“Here lie the remains of Mrs. Rachel Jackson, wife of President Jackson, who died the 22nd of December, 1828, aged 61.  Her face was fair, her person pleasing, her temper amiable, her heart kind; she delighted in relieving the wants of her fellow-creatures, and cultivated that divine pleasure by the most liberal and unpretending methods; to the poor she was a benefactor; to the rich an example; to the wretched a comforter; to the prosperous an ornament; her piety went hand in hand with her benevolence, and she thanked her Creator for being permitted to do good.  A being so gentle and so virtuous, slander might wound but not dishonor.  Even death, when he tore her from the arms of husband, could but transport to the bosom of her God.”

Andrew Jackson was never the same man again.  During his presidency he never used the phrase, “By the Eternal,” nor any other language which could be considered profane.  He mourned his wife until he himself rejoined her in the tomb he had prepared for them both.

    Of all the blessed things below
      To hint the joys above,
    There is not one our hearts may know
      So dear as mated love.

    It walks the garden of the Lord,
      It gives itself away;
    To give, and think not of reward,
      Is glory day by day.

    And though sometimes the shadows fall,
      And day is dark as night,
    It bows and drinks the cup of gall,
      But gives not up the fight.

    For One is in the union where
      The mine is ever thine,
    Whose presence keeps it brave and fair,
      A melody divine.

* * * * *

L.

DISCONTENTED GIRLS.

ONE PANACEA FOR THEM—­AND ONE REFUGE.

Not every girl is discontented, nor are any wretched all the time.  If they were, our homes would lose much sunshine.  Certainly no class in the community is so constantly written about, talked at, and preached to as our girls.  And still there always seems to be room left for one word more.  I am persuaded that the leaven of discontent pervades girls of the several social ranks, from the fair daughter of a cultured home to her who has grown up in a crowded tenement, her highest ambition to dress like the young ladies she sees on the fashionable avenue.  City girls and country girls alike know the meaning of this discontent, which sometimes amounts to morbidness, and again only to nervous irritability.