s, and renewed all of
the old bodily suffering. A temper always austere and imperious was not
mended by this harassing combination of ills. Alone in this extremity he
trod the wine-press of sickness and sorrow. He no longer had a party to
lean on, nor a state to support him, nor did any woman's hand minister to
him in this hour of his need. He had left to him nothing but his cause,
and to this he clung with the pathos and passion of a grand and solitary
spirit. Presently the grass-hopper became a burden, and the once stalwart
limbs could not carry him with their old time ease and regularity to his
seat in the Senate, which accordingly became frequently vacant. An
overpowering weariness and weakness was settling on the dying statesman.
Still his thoughts hovered anxiously about their one paramount object.
Like as the eyes of a mother about to die are turned and fixed on a
darling child, so turned his thoughts to the struggling cause of human
brotherhood and equality. For it the great soul would toil yet a little
longer. But it was otherwise decried, and the illustrious Defender of
Humanity passed away in this city March 11, 1874, leaving to his country
and to mankind, as a glorious heritage, the mortal grandeur of his
character and achievements.

CHARLES SUMNER.

[On seeing some pictures of the interior of his home.]

Only the casket left, the jewel gone
Whose noble presence filled these stately rooms,
And made this spot a shrine where pilgrims came--
Stranger and friend--to bend in reverence
Before the great, pure soul that knew no guile;
To listen to the wise and gracious words
That fell from lips whose rare, exquisite smile
Gave tender beauty to the grand grave face.

Upon these pictured walls we see thy peers,--
Poet and saint and sage, painter and king,--
A glorious band;--they shine upon us still;
Still gleam in marble the enchanting forms
Whereon thy artist eye delighted dwelt;
Thy fav'rite Psyche droops her matchless face,
Listening, methinks, for the beloved voice
Which nevermore on earth shall sound her praise.

All these remain,--the beautiful, the brave,
The gifted, silent ones; but thou art gone!
Fair is the world that smiles upon us now;
Blue are the skies of June, balmy the air
That soothes with touches soft the weary brow;
And perfect days glide into perfect nights,--
Moonlit and calm; but still our grateful hearts
Are sad, and faint wi