JUNE. 
OF THE VALLEY—MAIDENHOOD. 
‘ She nor affects 
The public walk, nor gaze of mid-day sun; 
She to no state or dignity aspires, 
But silent and alone puts on her suit, 
And sheds her lasting perfume, but for which 
We had not known there was a thing so sweet 
Hid in the gloomy shade.’— Htjedis. 
ITTING in the sunshine, near the window, she seemed 
to receive with its warmth a kind influence, which 
made her both happy and good. Thus disposed, 
she looked her best, and her best was a pleasing 
vision. To her had not been denied the gift of 
beauty : it was not absolutely necessary to know 
her in order to like her; she was fair enough to 
please, even at the first view. Her shape suited 
her age; it was girlish, light, and pliant; every 
curve was neat, every limb proportionate; her face 
was expressive and gentle; her eyes were hand- 
times with a winning beam that stole into the 
heart, with a language that spoke softly to the affections. Her mouth 
was very pretty,—she had a delicate skin and a fine flow of brown 
hair, which she knew how to arrange with taste; curls became her, 
and she possessed them in picturesque profusion. Her style of dress 
announced taste in the wearer; very unobtrusive in fashion, far from 
costly in material, but suitable in colour to the fair complexion with 
which it contrasted, and in make to the slight form from which it 
draped. Her present winter garb was of merino, the same soft shade 
of brown as her hair; the little collar round her neck lay over a pink 
ribbon, and was fastened with a pink knot; she wore no other decora¬ 
tion. Her cheek had a colour, her eyes a light, her countenance an 
expression, this evening, which would have made even plain features 
striking; but there was not the grievous defect of plainness to pardon 
in her case. The sunshine was not shed on rough barrenness; it fell 
on soft bloom. Each lineament was turned with grace; the whole 
THE LILY 
some, and gifted at 
