’Slow wandering on a tangled way,
  To their lost child pure spirits say:—­
  The diamond marshal thee by day,
  By night, the carbuncle defend,
  Heart’s blood of a bosom friend. 
    On thy brow, the amethyst,
      Violet of purest earth,
    When by fullest sunlight kissed,
      Best reveals its regal birth;
  And when that haloed moment flies,
  Shall keep thee steadfast, chaste, and wise.’

Coincidences, good and bad, contretemps, seals, ciphers, mottoes, omens, anniversaries, names, dreams, are all of a certain importance to her.  Her letters are often dated on some marked anniversary of her own, or of her correspondent’s calendar.  She signalized saints’ days, “All-Souls,” and “All-Saints,” by poems, which had for her a mystical value.  She remarked a preestablished harmony of the names of her personal friends, as well as of her historical favorites; that of Emanuel, for Swedenborg; and Rosencrantz, for the head of the Rosicrucians.  ‘If Christian Rosencrantz,’ she said, ’is not a made name, the genius of the age interfered in the baptismal rite, as in the cases of the archangels of art, Michael and Raphael, and in giving the name of Emanuel to the captain of the New Jerusalem. Sub rosa crux, I think, is the true derivation, and not the chemical one, generation, corruption, &c.’  In this spirit, she soon surrounded herself with a little mythology of her own.  She had a series of anniversaries, which she kept.  Her seal-ring of the flying Mercury had its legend.  She chose the Sistrum for her emblem, and had it carefully drawn with a view to its being engraved on a gem.  And I know not how many verses and legends came recommended to her by this symbolism.  Her dreams, of course, partook of this symmetry.  The same dream returns to her periodically, annually, and punctual to its night.  One dream she marks in her journal as repeated for the fourth time:—­

’In C., I at last distinctly recognized the figure of the early vision, whom I found after I had left A., who led me, on the bridge, towards the city, glittering in sunset, but, midway, the bridge went under water.  I have often seen in her face that it was she, but refused to believe it.’

She valued, of course, the significance of flowers, and chose emblems for her friends from her garden.

  ’TO ——­, WITH HEARTSEASE.

  ’Content, in purple lustre clad,
  Kingly serene, and golden glad,
  No demi-hues of sad contrition,
  No pallors of enforced submission;—­
  Give me such content as this,
  And keep awhile the rosy bliss.’

DAEMONOLOGY.