like the rich, deep violet, hung over its manuscript pages—of a hand and pen that zealously aided in copying them—of a soul-speaking face in the bloom of nineteen, soon to be covered on its turf-pillow from the mourning mother's view.
1849.
41. "Whisper to a Bride."
This book has gathered some of those sentiments which both in poetry and prose had been suggested by the most important era in the life of woman. From the absorption of time and thought incidental to such an event, I thought it fitting that the words uttered should be few. Robed in white silk, this slight gift has sought the hand of many a fair young creature, as she left the paternal hearthstone to make for herself a new home, amid duties whose full import eternity alone can unfold.
1850.
42. "The Coronal."
A beautiful volume of prose and poetry, thus entitled, was sent me from London, where it had been selected and published without reference to me. As you have probably never seen it, my dear friend, none having been sent to this country save a few gift copies to myself, I will transcribe for you the courteous words with which they introduce it to the British public:
