Daughter of music?-hath thy golden lute, Marion Paul Aird. Miss Aird is a native of Glasgow, where she was born in 1815. In 1846 appeared her first work, "The Home of the Heart, and other Poems;" and in 1853 a volume of prose and verse, entitled "Heart Histories." Her hymn, "Far, far Away," is sung in almost every Sunday-school in Scotland. Her mother was a niece of Hamilton Paul (1773-1854), a Scottish poet of some note. Frederick William Faber. Faber (1815-1863) was originally a clergyman of the Church of England, but became a convert to the Catholic religion, and a priest in that Church. He was the author of some five volumes of poems, some of them of singular grace, tenderness, and beauty. He wrote "The Cherwell Water-Lily, and other Poems" (1840); "The Styrian Lake, and other Poems" (1842); "Sir Lancelot: a Poem" (1844); "The Rosary, and other Poems" (1845); and several papers in the "Lives of the English Saints," edited by Dr. Newman. Faber became distinguished as an earnest and eloquent preacher. His theological writ ings, after his conversion, were numerous and able. It was the calm and silent night! Seven hundred years and fifty-three Held undisturbed their ancient reign 'Twas in the calm and silent night, The senator of haughty Rome, Impatient, urged his chariot's flight, From lordly revel rolling home; Triumphal arches, gleaming, swell His breast with thoughts of boundless sway; What recked the Roman what befell A paltry province far away, Within that province far away Fallen through a half-shut stable door O strange indifference! low and high Drowsed over common joys and cares; Philip James Bailey. Bailey, a native of Nottingham, England, was born in 1816. He published at the age of twenty a poem entitled "Festus," which passed through many editions both in England and America. Few poems have so immediately excited so much attention. It was followed by "The Angel World" (1850), "The Mystic" (1855), "The Age: a Colloquial Satire" (1858), and "The Universal Hymn" (1867). No one of these had a success equal to his first juvenile production. LOVE, THE END OF CREATED BEING. Love is the happy privilege of the mind- To life, to virtue one, and one to bliss: Void of gross sign-is scarce a simple essence, One only simple essence liveth-God,- Are but compounded things of mind and form. For God, being Love, in love created all, Nay, man's chief wisdom's love-the love of God. Was that of Christ and love. His great command- THOUGHTS FROM "FESTUS." We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best; And he whose heart beats quickest lives the longest; Lives in one hour more than in years do some Whose fat blood sleeps as it slips along their veins. Keep the spirit pure From worldly taint by the repellent strength John Godfrey Saxe. AMERICAN. One of the most popular of the humorous poets of America, Saxe was born in Highgate, Vt., in 1816, and was graduated at Middlebury College in the class of 1839. After practising law for a time, he abandoned it The tender emotion I feel Is one that they never return; "Tis idle to quarrel with fate, For, struggle as hard as I can, They're mated already, you know, And I'm a superfluous man! No wonder I grumble at times, With women so pretty and pleuty, To know that I never was born To figure as one of the Twenty; But yet, when the average lot With critical vision I scan, I think it may be for the best That I'm a superfluous man! Just so you would have praised the PopeJustine, you love me not! I know, Justine-for I have heard "You like me passing well;" And thus the fatal sound I hear That seals my lonely lot: There's nothing now to hope or fearJustine, you love me not! JUSTINE, YOU LOVE ME NOT! "Hélas! vous ne m'aimez pas."-PIRON. I know, Justine, you speak me fair To hear a voice so sweet; And yet it does not please me quite, The civil way you've got; For me you're something too politeJustine, you love me not! I know, Justine, you never scold 'Tis all the same to you. "A charming temper," say the men, "To smooth a husband's lot:" I wish 'twere ruffled now and thenJustine, you love me not! I know, Justine, you wear a smile It shines for only one? A transient cloudy spot In yours would promise more to meJustine, you love me not! I know, Justine, you make my name And say-if any chance to blame- Such words, for all their kindly scope, Philip Pendleton Cooke. AMERICAN. The son of an eminent lawyer, Cooke (1816-1850) was a native of Martinsburg, Va. He entered Princeton College at fifteen, studied law with his father, and before he was of age had married and begun practice. He was extravagantly fond of field sports, and grew to be the most famous hunter of the Shenandoah Valley. He published a volume of "Froissart Ballads " in 1847, in which his "Florence Vane" is introduced; wrote novels and tales for the Southern Literary Messenger, when it was edited by Poe; and also for Graham's Magazine; and became an accomplished man of letters instead of a busy lawyer. He died young, of pneumonia, got in a hunting expedi tion; leaving one son and several daughters. John Esten Cooke, his brother (born 1830), has been a prolific and interesting writer, chiefly of prose. Of Philip he says: "I can sum up my brother's character by saying that he was an admirable type of a sensitive, refined, and highly cultivated gentleman." Impulsive and chivalrous, he once galloped twenty miles to throw a bouquet into the window of his cousin, the "Florence Vane" of his graceful little lyric, which, it is interesting to know, was the offspring of a genuine passion, and not of mere fancy. He was profoundly read in the English masters of verse, from Chaucer to our own day. FLORENCE VANE. I loved thee long and dearly, My life's bright dream, and early I renew in my fond vision The ruin lone and hoary, Where thou didst mark my story, |