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“.See! Oh, prisoned soul of mine, 
In yon bright insect that on flitting wing 
Deceives from honeyed bells their garnered sweets, 
A symbol of thyself. But yesterday, 
Away from sight within its shell it lay 
A hated worm; to-day in blissful life 
Departing from its tomb it rose on high 
A vision of delight.—So thou, at length ,— 
The moment of thy low existence o’er,— 
Thy powers expanded, and thy youth renewed,— 
A nobler creature in a nobler sphere.” 
— Yen. Sister M. Genevieve Todd. 
TT-|e l^o^e. 
“Proud be the rose, with rains and dews 
Her head impearling.” 
— Wordsworth. 
Beauty. 
S IIAT about beauty ? Hot that beauty of 
person is to be underestimated; for, oth¬ 
er things being equal, symmetry of form, grace¬ 
fulness of figure, handsomeness of features and 
delicacy of complexion, are to be admired: they 
are also outward indications of health, and even of refinement. 
But to marry, for instance, a handsome figure without character ,— 
fine features unbeautified by sentiment or good nature, or, worst of all, 
unaccompanied by piety and reserve, would be a deplorable blunder. 
Whereas goodness , displayed through the most ordinary features, is 
perennially lovely, the beauty of to-day becomes commonplace to-morrow. 
Hearken to the words of the poet: 
