HATTIE TYNG. The parents of Hattie Tyng were both primitive New Englanders — ^her father a clergyman, and professor in one of the academies in that section. Hattie was born at West Mills, Maine, on the twenty -sixth of January, 1841. She is self-educated — de- voting her time and energies to the acquisition of knowledge, as she had opportunity, which resulted in a thorough English education, with several modern languages. Her particular forte seems to be the sense of comparison — readily perceiving the resem- blances in the great activities and events of individual or national experiences, which her fine genius expresses in graphic and beautiful forms and imagery. Her produc- tions have appeared in the Home Journal, Columbia (S. C.) Courant, the Milwaukee and Chicago papers, with some others. Miss Tyng is a popular teacher in the High School in the village of her residence, Columbus, Wisconsin. RUINS. Over sea and over desert, Wand'ring many a weary mile, By the lordly banks of Ganges — By the softly flowing Nile ; Travelers wander, seeking ever Ruins which may tales unfold, Of the rude, barbaric splendor Of the mystic days of old. And they watch with straining vision- Watch as pilgrims at a shrine — For a glimpse of those half-hidden Castled crags along the Rhine. O'er all ancient lands they wander. Ever with a new delight, Seeking ruins which are sacred To their wonder-loving sight. But they know not that around them, Close at home, are ruins spread. Strange as those that glimpses give them Of the ages that are dead. Crumbling fane or fallen turret, Ruined mosque or minaret, Teaches not the solemn lesson. Which we learn but to forget. Every where around are scattered Ruined lives and broken hearts. Wrecks of manhood far more shattered Than these fragments of lost arts. And we need not go to seek them Far from our own native land, For, unnoted and forsaken. Near us many ruins stand. But when eyes and hearts are heavy Gazing on them comes the thought, That, though corniced aisle and column, Soon shall crumble into naught, Still these darkened human ruins. All rebuilt shall one day stand, Beauteous fanes and noble structures, Within God's most glorious land. ( 686)
