To mourn not earth's fair things, though passing away;
For though youth of its beauty and brightness be riven,
All that withers on earth blooms more sweetly in heaven.
Look up," said the father, "look up to the skies,
Hope sits on the wings of those beautiful dyes."
LETTICE AND MYRA.
A SCENE IN LONDON.
My young readers may have heard about the poor people in London. The following story is a specimen of the hardships of many young girls in that famous city.
"Two young women occupied one small room of about ten feet by eight. They were left orphans, and were obliged to take care of themselves. Many of the articles of furniture left them had been disposed of to supply the calls of urgent want. In the room was an old four post bedstead, with curtains almost worn out, one mattress with two small pillows, a bolster that was almost flat, three old blankets and cotton sheets, of coarse description, three rush-bottom chairs, an old claw table, a chest of draws with a few battered band-boxes on the top of it, a miserable bit of carpet before the fire-place, a wooden box for coals, a little tin fender and an old poker. What there was, however, was kept clean, the floor and yellow paint was clean, and the washing tub which sat in one corner of the room.