the reader's attention, in the conception of her characters, in
the painting of personal traits, in purity of thought, in
sweetness of sentiment, in beauty of style, in the harmony of the
parts, and in the most scrupulous regard for morality." This is
high praise, and it comes from high authority. We will simply add
that, with a few necessary changes, it may also be applied to Mrs.
Leprohon's poems.

From this imperfect sketch of Mrs. Leprohon's literary life it
will be seen that she was no sluggard. But we would leave a wrong
impression if we gave it to be understood that all her time was
passed in the writing of either poems or tales. Far from it. They
constituted but one phase in a life nobly, yet unostentatiously,
consecrated to the duties of home, of society, of charity and of
religion. Mrs. Leprohon was much more than either a poet or a
novelist--she was, also, in the highest sense, a woman, a lady.
Had she never written a verse of poetry or a page of prose, she
would still have been lovingly remembered for what she was as
wife, as mother, as friend. It is, in a great part, because they
are associated with her in these more endearing aspects, that they
are the true mental and moral offspring of her very self, that
those who knew her will find in them so much to prize. Alas! these
and loving memories, that can scarce be separated from them, are
now all that is left of her. On the 20th of September, 1879, after
a tedious illness, endured with Christian resignation, she passed
away. She did not live to receive the reward that was her due on
earth, but that which is above is hers, and her works live after
her, and a memory that will not perish.

In conclusion, we will just allow ourselves to point out that, in