GUESS AGMN.-No lady in IlonoIl
wrote the poetry published in our last.
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Another year has melted into eem1l
Its hopes and fears, smiles and tears az


mingled with the past, and we are one ste
nearer our "dark inn," the grave. To
many of the lovely and beautiful have pre-
cedcd us in that drear journey! How mar
that our hearts held dear, whose mcmort
are enshrincd in our natures, will be thsr
to welcome US! They too have played the
part IN this busy scene below, have miuse
their tears with the sorrowfil. and rejoice
with the joyous. But friendship could N


stay them, and when their turn came, the
PASSED from our sight like a hccting cIou


Time rolls stcrnly on-thc great, the go@
as well as the bad-young and aged-a


allke crushed beneath it's wheels. NatO
hcrselfgrows grey, as its burrows deepcnup


her bosom. What does this lesson tcac
US? Do rolling years weave wreath
virtue and wisdom around our brows? shi
we be prepared for the perfect society, Il
unlimited expansion of happiness and know