Of pleasant time that here now ends:
Hand parts from hand, _not_ heart from heart,
And I must leave you, O my friends!

What can the future's fairest hours
Bring me to recompense for these?
Acquaintances spring like the flowers--
Friends are slow growth, like forest trees.
Come hope or gladness, what there will--
Days bright as sunshine after rain--
The past gave life's best blessings still:
We'll find no friends like these again.

I leave you in the dear old home
That once was mine--now mine no more:
Henceforth a stranger I must come
To haunts so well beloved of yore;
Yet if your faces turn to mine
The kindly smile I'm wont to see,
Not all, not all I must resign--
My lost home's light still shines for me!

Whatever chance or change be mine
In other climes, 'neath foreign skies,
Your love, your kindness, I shall hold
Dearest amid dear memories.
O eyes grown dim with falling tears!
O lips where Sorrow lays her spell!
The saddest task of all life's years
Is yours--to look and say farewell!

LUCY H. HOOPER.
AUGUSTIN'S, April 7, 1873.

NOTES.

Between the careers of Cavour and Thiers no sound parallel can easily
be traced, but in their characters--or rather in their diplomatic
methods and arts--there would seem to be some curious and almost
ludicrous points of resemblance, if we may accept as true a sketch
of the great Italian statesman made by M. Plattel, the author of
"Causeries Franco-Italiennes," fifteen years ago. M. Plattel, who
wrote from close personal observation, at that time described Count
Cavour as being physically "M. Thiers magnified;" or, if you prefer,
M. Thiers is the count viewed through the big end of an opera-glass.
The count, says M. Plattel, "has the spectacles, and even a similar
expression of finesse. When things take a serious turn, the count puts
both hands in his pockets; and if you see him do that, expect to hear
this threat: 'If you do not pass this bill, _signori deputati_, I
consider you incapable of longer managing the affairs of the country:
I have the honor of bidding you good-evening.' For (and this is a
strange peculiarity) this first minister is never steadier than when
in danger of falling; and his grand oratorical, or rather ministerial,
figure of speech is to seize his hat and his cane, whereupon the
chamber rises and begs M. de Cavour to sit down. M. de Cavour lets
them plead