THE CUE YSANTHEM UM — DECLINING YEARS. 
little fellow of six—looked anxiously in Mrs. More’s face after ske 
had kissed him, and his mamma said, ‘ You will not forget Mrs. Hannah, 
my dear; ’ and he shook his head. 
‘Do not forget, my dear child,’ said the kind old lady, assuming 
a playful manner. ‘ But they say your sex is naturally capricious — 
there, I will give you another kiss; keep it for my sake; and when 
you are a man, remember Hannah More.’ ‘I will,’ he replied, ‘remem¬ 
ber that you loved children.’ It was a beautiful compliment. 
W. Roberts. 
m HE withered leaves bestrew the garden path, 
Made miry with the fall of fleeting showers; 
The sun emits a feeble ray, which hath 
Ho power to warm or cheer the gloomy hours; 
The robin only sings among the bowers, 
How hare and desolate, his simple lay; 
All other birds are mute and sad, or they 
Have flitted with the spring and summer flowers: 
Yet are the borders not entirely hare, 
For bright Chrysanthemums nod here and there 
Their heads, to chilling blast and pelting rain. 
H. Gr. Adams. 
r I iHE seas are quiet when the winds give o’er; 
So calm are we when passions are no more : 
For then we know how vain it was to boast 
Of fleeting things—too certain to be lost. 
The Soul, with nobler resolutions deck’d, 
The Body stooping, does herself erect. 
Clouds of affections from our younger eyes, 
Conceal that happiness which age descries : 
The soul’s dark dwelling, battered and decayed, 
Lets in new light through chinks that time has made. 
Stronger by weakness, wiser, men become, 
As they draw near to their eternal home: 
Leaving the Old, both worlds at once they view, 
Who stand upon the threshold of the Hew. 
