th Mo. 24th_. A solemn warning from Uncle R.
on Fifth-day did me good. I was blessed with some
degree of ability to use the words, "Into Thy hands
I commit my spirit," and though I feared to add,
"Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord of truth," in its
full sense, yet I have felt how precious were the
words, "as unto a _faithful_ Creator." Oh, does He
not say in _these_ days, "Open thy mouth wide, and I
will fill it"? Is His hand shortened at all? Can
we not have faith in our principles?

The following lines were written about this, time, in allusion to the
marriage of her eldest, sister, and the funeral of John Wadge, an old
and valued friend of the family. It was hoped that the cactus which
had belonged to J.W. would have blossomed in time for the wedding; but
the first flower only opened a fortnight afterwards, on the morning of
his own funeral: and when, in a few years, the marriage of the beloved
writer of the lines was so speedily followed by her own decease, the
striking appropriateness of these touching verses could not fail to be
remembered.

TO A CACTUS FLOWER.

Firstling blossom! gayly spreading
On a long-nursed household tree,
What unwonted spell is shedding
Thought of grief on bloom of thee?

For a morning bright and tender
They had nursed thee glad and fond;
Nay, the bud reserved its splendor
For a funeral scene beyond.

Who shall tell us which were meeter,--
Marriage morn, or funeral day?
What if nature chose the sweeter,
Where her blooming gift to lay?

Set in thorns that flower so tender!
Marriage days have poignant hours;
Thorny stem, thou hast thy splendor!
Funeral days have also flowers.

And the loftiest hopes man nurses,
Never deem them idly born;
Never think that deathly curses
Blight them on a funeral morn.

Buds of their perennial nature
Need a region where to blow,
Where the stalk has loftier stature
Than it reaches here below.

Not like us they dread the bosom
Of chill earth's sepulchral gloom;
They will find them where to blossom,
And perhaps select a _tomb_.

Yes, a _tomb_; so thou mayst deem it,
With regretful feelings fond;
_Not_ a _tomb_, however, seems it,
If thou know'st to look _beyond_.

10th of 7th Month, 1847.

_8th Mo. 8th_. We alone. Pleasant and quiet
schemes have arisen (partly from reading Pyecroft,
partly fr