for progressing household labor; the kitchen being transformed into a sitting room, with no change, excepting a new coat of paint, large windows instead of small, paper instead of bare walls, and a place for a stove pipe instead of the ample fire place, that used to shed its cheering light and warmth over the whole room. And we might almost fancy ourselves at home, were it not that the eyes of strangers are upon us, and we miss the dear familiar faces that first taught the infant heart to love.

Here, have we clustered around the knees of a mother and drank rich instruction from her pious lips, and offered up the morning and the evening prayer, and lisped our hymn of praise, while she ever strove to impress the golden rule upon the young and tender minds committed to her care; and her example was ever that of a consistent Christian.

How vividly comes up before the eye of Memory, the forms of the aged members of the family; for there were an uncle and two aunts of my father who were never married, that took him at the early age of two years, educated him and gave him the homestead for his patrimony; and at the time of my birth the snow of many winters rested upon their heads, and the infirmities of age were upon them.

It was their delight to watch our childish sports, listen to our innocent prattle, and strive to direct our young footsteps in the paths of virtue. They have passed away like the shadows of a passing cloud. Almost my first recollections of death are associated with that of the aged man. He had been sick about four days when we were called to stand by his bedside and witness his departure. He smiled upon the dear little brother, mother held in her arms, shook him by the hand, gave us all a parting glance; the film of death then gathered upon his eyes, a convulsive shudder ran over his frame, and a deathly paleness rested upon his countenance, filling our young hearts with wonder and dismay. As we felt the marble coldness of his stiffened limbs, and saw him borne away to the silent grave, we learned the first lesson from the pale messenger, and felt the awful void that his presence creates in the family circle, and which we have since been called so often to experience. He died in the very room where we first opened our eyes upon the light.

It is a large gloomy looking room. The two windows looking out upon the north, and a door opening out upon the level field, covered with its carpet of green, intersected by neither shrub nor trees. The coating of paint is changed, and the walls neatly papered, which is the only change it has undergone.

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