And weary of her laurelled dust ), Thou tardy Night! In 1884, Mrs. Converse was formally adopted by the Seneca Indians, as had been her father and grandfather before her. It was on the occasion of the re-interment, by the Buffalo Historical Society, of the remains of the famous Red Jacket. Her adoption made her the great-grand-daughter of Red Jacket with all the rights and honors pertaining to the relation. The poetical work of Mrs. Converse has won high praise. Lord Alfred Tennyson and Dom Pedro emperor of Brazil, each sent to the author graceful letters of commendation on the publication of “Sheaves." Mrs. Converse is also an industrious writer of prose, and has two volumes nearly ready for the press, one to be entitled “The Religious Festivals of the Iroquois Indians," the other “ Mythology and Folk Lore of the North American Indians." In the prime of life, she has doubtless her best work before her. Mrs. Converse resides in New York City. Per. sonally she is attractive, genial and generous. Her friendships are warm, enthusiastic and abiding. while her heart is sympathetic and her hand open to the needs of her kind. In her presence you forget that she is literary, which is perhaps the most satisfactory social trait any literary woman can exhibit. MRS. G, A. If in some hour unknown before, Thou welcome Night! LIFE. TO THE NIGHT. The west is barred with hurrying clouds, Within whose deep vermilion shrouds, While soft winds whisper mournful sighs, In fickle lights the dear Day lies; With dreams of distance in her grace, She met her Morn with glowing face; Deserted glory in her glance, She swoons to death, in languid trance And thy uncertain light Thou hastening Night! I. Work, busy brain; Divinity DEATH. If o'er thy broad and darkling land Thou friendly Night! II. Rest, weary brain, Eternity, UNFOLDED HOPES. If from the solitudes of pain - Many a bud enfolds a hue that never sees the sun; Unfriendly thoughts have blasted hopes that love has just begun; On, on she reads; hushed on her snowy breast, Lulled in its peace as of a holy shrine, Each tender sigh doth rock itself to rest; Her face, love lit, doth glow with fire divine, Her trembling voice doth linger long“ Jealousy is cruel as the grave, The coals thereof are coals of fire With most vehement flame;" She seems to grow more brave Attuned to love's dear name! Clasping with velvet touches, hand in hand, Love sings to love this song through all the land Where marriage bells, with silver iterance, call, Love loveth love, and love is all-in-all! -Sweetheart. DAISY. Undergrowth of Nature's heart, and bloom that robes the sod. -To a Field Daisy. OCTOBER The fields are sere, the garners filled, the reapers' harvest hymns Are echoed through the dells, where nests hang empty on the limbs; The streams are haunted with the sighs of muffled summer songs, While on their lonely ripples float the willow leaves in throngs. - Regal October. SPRING. Dear, fair white hands wherein the Good Book lies, Dear, tender sighs that hush upon her breast, Dear, blue-veined lids that veil her violet eyes, Unto my life thou art sweet peace and rest! Love, set me as a seal upon her heart, Thou, love, art strong—as strong as death thou art! SACRIFICE, To inflictions' painful bondage deliverance doth The sun evokes from shadows, in the genial rite Of consecrated wedlock, the day from winter's night. - Waiting: RETROSPECT. Trace thou the blooming vines of passion-flowers - -Retrospect. VIOLETS. peace, -Ibid, And radiant grows, within, of pure delight! Yet Peace, in quiet hushfulness, subdues Her joy and glowing, in the star-lit space And shadowed glory of the holy night! -Peace. FAITH. - Ibid. DEATH. The watch of Eternity - Death! - Ibid. -Love's Gifts. LOVE. of October, 1833. He was destined for the legal profession, but while serving with a solicitor, was offered an appointment in Her Majesty's Civil Service which he accepted, and in 1854 commenced an official career which has proved a successful one. He has found time amid his exacting duties to indulge his natural love of literature and to make many a contribution in prose and verse to journals and magazines. In addition to the collection of poems under the title “ By Solent and Danube" he has written many verses of a humorous character, and is the author of several plays. He is known to a large circle as an elocutionist of great power and brilliancy: perhaps, as an oral interpreter of Tennyson he has never been surpassed. A. N. J. Have In the spring ? When the pink cascades are falling, In the spring! Have you seen a merry bridal in the spring ? In the spring ? When the bride and maidens wear In the spring! RED BERRIES OF BRIONY. Rich was the harvest he vow'd to reap, When he planted his germ below; But his golden sheaves By the gusty autumn borne; That cling round a wither'd thorn. If you have not, then you know not, in the spring, In the spring! No sweet sight can I remember In the spring! Roses will throw me their blooms," she said, " When winter is white on the tree; Love will bring clusters when leaves are dead The vine's purple clusters to me." But her rose-tree stands In the cold bleak air forlorn; That cling round a wither'd thorn. SYMPATHY. From my worn heart, In thy hard part? The sacred strain; In Heaven again? To weep with thee. The dreary day Which we call memory - To weep with thee. APPLE BLOSSOMS. In the spring ? When the spreading trees are hoary In the spring! Have you plucked the apple blossoms in the spring? In the spring ? When thou, bereft of sleep, Of encurtain'd room, Shalt hear his evening prayer, Stroke his yellow hair, Now hush'd in death; The dread decree- Thine eyelids overflow, Then will I think of thee, To weep with thee. By Heaven sent Faded and spent. There is bliss in tears - The archéd bow appears - Whereof his closest knoweth not the plan,- II. The nearest, dearest, truest of my friends Knows but the vestibule; nor ever wends III. A Mother's smile, upon its inner way, Sweet lips and eyes of tenderness, to stay IV. With faint aureola of angel's hair, Brings down at times a light that lingers there, That sheds its gold, yet cannot fill the place. V. O small white hand now clasping nothingness! O voice of song! could she in life have fill'd The inner chamber and its aching still'd ? Nay- God alone must fill it -- nothing less! THE PEARL OF PEACE. A BIVALVE feeding in the warm salt sea Draws inward, with the wave, a sandy grain, Which, not returning with the wave again, The creature hides it in a dew-like rain Of ceaseless tears, till, harden'd out of pain, A precious pearl is fashion'd perfectly. From outer seas of passion, seas of strife, There drifts at times upon the human heart A secret rankling grief that day by day We cover with the bitter tears of life, Till, wrought of pain from out our nobler part, The pearl of Peace remains with us alway. THE HUMAN CRY. I. And clinging hands to clutch the dim Unknown That draws forever back behind His throne Who gives good gifts; but speaketh not a word. II. The world grows old : still lifts the bitter breath : Why? Tell us — Why? behind our prison bars ! O Children! are we wise? Hope crown'd with stars Is ours - and Love that dieth not- and Death! INNERMOST. 1. Cax aught into the Innermost intrude ? The cryptic chamber of the heart of man, |