s his own is ever near him, and I fancy, as I mark
the delighted look that ever greets a seraph strain from the beloved
lips, that I hear in sweet tones, "_thou, my sweet Lilias, art with me
still_."

THE CHRISTIAN HERO'S EPITAPH.

Say, doth the sculptor's ready tool engrave
A _mournful_ stanza o'er a _conqueror's_ grave?
Or bid the willow bend, or cypress twine?
Or doleful tokens to his fame combine?

Then trace no saddening sentence o'er the place
Where rests the victor in a heavenward race;
Meeter the laurel and the trumpet-strain
For one who fought a fadeless crown to gain!

Bring the memorials of a warrior true,
The "sword," the "helmet," and the "breast-plate" too;
Write on the marble that by _these_ he won,
And bid the gazer do as he hath done!

Write of his faith; how humble, yet how bright,
Diffusing round a clear and heavenly light;
Write of his zeal; how quenchlessly it burned,
How many a wanderer to the skies it turned!

And, mourner, when thou comest with a tear,
Love's costless tribute to remembrance dear,
Bend there thy trembling knee upon the sod,
And lift thy homage to the conqueror's God!

THE LADY OF FERNHEATH.

BY MARY SPENCER PEASE.

CHAPTER I.

ISOLETH.

How shall I describe her? Who ever described the sun, or one of the
glorious stars, or the white, witching moon; or who, even the least
and simplest of the exquisitely, perfectly fashioned wild-flowers,
that grow upon the humblest road-side? If these are indescribable, how
much more so, in its highest perfection, is the most beautiful, most
perfect of all God's beautiful, perfect creations--woman? Who ever
depicted her one half as lovely and loving as she is? Who ever, amid
all the wild, rapturous praise that has been so profusely lavished
upon her, said one half that is her due for her truth and gentleness
and beauty, her untiring devotion, her unwearying patience, her ever
unselfish forgetfulness of self, her--,but what has been so many times
vainly attempted, _I_ cannot accomplish. How, then, shall I describe
thee, beautiful Isoleth? Loveliest, lovingest, glowing, glorious Lady
Isoleth! Bright Lady Isoleth!--wild as a hawk, and beautiful as Love.
Thy every motion was grace, thine every look was truth. Bewitching
little Isoleth! Her form was as lithe and flexible as a willow bough,
and light and graceful as a young fawn's. Her queenl