PREFACE. THE audacity of a comparatively unknown author who perpetrates the folly of a first book must needs find extenuation in a preface. , o l i efosr obscure muses are so many and so tedious, that the writer of this book would despair of securing a patient perusal of either her preface or her poems did she not remember that a number Qf the latter have already drifted into print, and successively enjoyed a certain degree of popularity in religious journals and periodicals. Encouraging as such favorable notice must indubitably be to an aspiring author, one who is not quite blinded with selfconceit cannot but see the risk of bearing the whole weight of authorship upon such slender supports. The lavish praise of personal friends is no greater guarantee of success with the critical public at large than is a mere local popularity sure to soften the iron verdict of the world. More than once, in thoughtful visits to public and private libraries, the writer has reverentially drawn from dim cornerrecesses, or emancipated from the secret slavery of upper shelves, many a neglected book, both good and precious. Even if their dusty covers told no tale, the uncut pages were sufficient evidence of the oblivion to which they had been consigned. Busy teeming brains had once, with fear and gladness, furnished forth this feast. Eager faces, throbbing hearts, and careful hands were all alive to greet and serve the invited guests. Every phrase was weighed and daintily preparedevery false quantity tested in the laboratory of asthetic thought, - pet the contents of these dusty books were now, at last, less known to the living literary world outside the library walls, less valued by its critics, than might be the characters on a Chinese manuscript, or the hieroglpphs on an obscure Egyptian tomb. To a new aspirant for literary success these mute preachers delivered a most trenchant sermon. In the studious silence the writer was haunted by a legion of mournful ghosts, whose pathetic lips had ever thesame monotonous note of warning Yesterday fdr me to-day for thee. And pondering on the many beautiful hopes that once had gilded each neglected volume, and considering the many fair thoughts pressed, like faded but still fragrant blossoms, between their unread pages, an earnest mind might well hesitate to make a venture fraught with such apparent failure to other and wiser pens. But as every flower, no matter how humble, created with a divine purpose, fulfils the end of its creation by simply blooming in a grassy corner as every bird, even if it be not a nightingale, is blessed in pouring its homely song into the grand chorus ascending ever to the Giver of all gifts so may the simplest soul-flowers, so may the smallest heart-birds, brighten some quiet corners with their bloom and fill them full of melody. And if, in Christian homes, tpese little poems distract for a space but one tired heart from its pressing personal sorrows,-if they gladden but a few earnest souls with the graceful accomplishment of a divin decree,-then may the writer I - hope, as no unwelcome guest, At the warm fireside, when the lamps are lighted, To have a place reserved among the rest, Nor stand as one unsought and uninvited. PHILADELPH M IA ay , 15, 1873. S CONTENTS... --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.