walls ring with music and merriment in those happy days, when, with family ties unbroken, sickness infrequent, and death—as all hoped—in the far-off future, life seemed almost a pleasure-chase! During all this time, though leading lives of active usefulness, the sisters, Mary and Jane, found leisure to cultivate the poetic talent with which they were endowed,—the former commencing to write, at the early age of eleven years, a poem commemorative of her regret at leaving the beautiful "Selma," round which clustered her most delightful recollections. From this time until her health failed, she wrote rapidly and without effort, as water flows from the mountain-spring—because it was her nature and delight. Her sister began to write some years later in life, with less of ease but perhaps more vigor of expression, and to both this gift was a source of unspeakable happiness. The trees of the forest, the "voice of waters," and the "delicate indwellings" of their own spirits were their teachers; and many a song of the affections, many a tribute to glorious deeds and scenes of historic interest, from their pens, found way into the literary periodicals of the day, and were always favorably received. There was so great a similarity in character between them, that in thought, feeling, purpose, they were one, and in affection they were twin-souls as well as sisters. With no ostentatious display of this,—seldom even alluding to the peculiar tie which united them—yet so did their every
