and well did the scene accord with the sadness and
sorrow that reigned in the hearts of those who had assembled on that
mournful occasion.

The deceased was one whom we had all known and loved, for she was one
of those sweet angelic beings, whom it is impossible not to love. Her
presence, like sunshine, seemed to diffuse light and cheerfullness
upon all who came within the magic circle of her influence.

Her glad laugh fell like music upon the ear. Her large dark eyes
beamed with the light of intelligence and affection. The softest rose
tint tinged her alabaster cheek, and the tones of her voice were like
the melody of an Aeolian harp, when touched by the wandering zephyrs.

But youth, beauty, and goodness could not shield her from the cruel
shafts of the destroyer. The hand of disease fell heavily upon her,
and her fragile form sank beneath the blow, and faded like a blighted
flower. There sat her parents bowed down by grief, for the being whom
they most loved on earth, the light of their home, the joy, the hope,
the pride of their hearts, had been taken from them, and they were
indeed left desolate.

One ray of light alone illumined the darkness that overshadowed them
like a pall. But one star shone out upon the dim horizon of the
future, the hope of being reunited with their beloved child in that
better land, where tears shall be wiped from all eyes--where love
never dies, and parting scenes are never known.

The funeral services were performed in a solemn and impressive manner.
The coffin was then opened, and one by one we approached to take the
last fond look of its frail tenant. Oh, could it be that that form, so
cold and motionless, clad in the white habiliments of the grave, was
that of the once lovely and fascinating Annie Howard? Were those lips
that were wont to entrance with their melody forever sealed in death?
Would those eyes never again beam with the light of affection, or
kindle with the glow of enthusiasm? Oh, how forcibly were we reminded
that "passing away" is written upon all things here below, and that
the fairest forms that walk the earth, in all the pride of beauty,
must go down to the dark, cold grave, to be food for the loathesome
worm. With slow and faltering steps, and with tear-suffused eyes,
we followed the remains to the narrow house, appointed for all the
living; and then mournfully returned to our homes, to muse upon the
uncertainty, and the perishable nature of all earthly joys.