September 7. 
LILY OE THE VALLEY. — Return of Happiness. 
Ella! sad clouds have always round my spirit 
Gathered thick darkness to engloom my way; 
I’ve thought my life would never more inherit 
The golden radiance of a sunlit day. 
But you arose across my soul’s horizon 
And gilt the clouds that darkly thronged me 
round, 
And my sad song, — Kyrie, Kyrie, eleison! 
Became Io ! Eureka ! I have found! J.W.H. 
September B. 
MADDER. — Talkative. 
This maiden’s sparkling eyes 
Are pretty, and all that, sir; 
But her little tongue 
Is quite too full of chat, sir! 
