of such an aimless, useless, expensive dissipation as the ball-room furnishes.’

      THE LOST SOUL.
"‘Go bring me,’ said the dying fair,
   With anguish in her tone,
‘Those costly robes and jewels rare;
   Go bring them every one.’
"They strewed them on her dying bed,
   Those robes of priceless cost;
‘Father,’ with bitterness she said,
   ‘For these my soul is lost.
"‘Take them, they are the price of blood;
   For them I lost iny soul;
For them must bear the wrath of God.
   While ceaseless ages roll.
"'Remember, when you look on these,
   Your daughters fearful doom;
That she, her pride and thine to please,
   Went quaking to the tomb.
"‘Go bear them from my sight, and though
   Your gifts I here restore,
Keep them with care, they cost you much,
   They cost your daughter more.
"‘Look at them every rolling year,
   Upon my dying day,
And drop for me the burning tear,
   She said, and sunk away.

"OSCAR DIXON."

I want here to record the fact that during all our sickness and afflictions no family ever had better neighbors or kinder friends. They anticipated our every want, and with willing hands rnost tenderly and cheerfully ministered to our every necessity. My mind reverts now with the fondest affection especially to their faithfulness and constancy, as they watched and waited with us at dear Lizzie’s bedside during the houts of the long night of suspense and anxiety before the end came. May the good Lord reward them abundantly. In all my life I have never witnessed such devotion in two sisters as Maggie and Lizzie; both the elder sisters had been taken from us in early

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