December 1, 1853, Mr. Wallace married Sophia Ingalls, daughter of Thomas Ingalls of Rindge, New Hampshire.  She died June 20, 1871, leaving two sons, Herbert I. Wallace and George R. Wallace.  Herbert is a graduate of Harvard in the class of 1877.  George studied at the Institute of Technology in Boston.  They are associated with their father in the management of his business.  December 28, 1876 Mr. Wallace married Mrs. Sophia F. Bailey of Woodstock, Vermont.  Mr. Bailey was a member of Congress from the district in which Fitchburg is included.  Mrs. Wallace is one of the well-known Billings family of Woodstock.  Mr. Wallace lives in a beautiful house on Prospect street, which is surrounded with beautiful lawns and green-houses which, gratify his taste.  From his front door he can overlook the city and its varied industries in whose development he has borne so conspicuous a part.

We are near the end of a story which it has been a pleasure to tell.  Vastly more could be told.  A volume of incidents could be written.  There are precious secrets of every generous and noble man’s life which no pen may profane by giving them publicity.  These are the choice treasures reserved only for those who know him best, and live nearest his heart.  But the writer desires, as Mr. Wallace’s pastor, to add the testimony of observation and personal knowledge to the rare purity and uprightness of character, to the generosity of spirit, to the thoughtful kindness, and to the deep and reverent regard for spiritual things, of his distinguished parishioner.  As an example of untiring energy, of probity of character, of cleanness of soul, of uprightness of life, of sincerity of purpose, of firmness of moral principle, he may safely be held up as a model for young men.

* * * * *

FITCHBURG.

BY MRS. CAROLINE A. MASON.[A]

[Footnote A:  Mrs. Mason is a resident of Fitchburg.  Her home, on Rollstone Street, is shown in the “Sketch of Fitchburg.”  Her reputation as a writer of verse is not confined to the State.  She is the author of the words of the familiar ballad “Do They Miss Me at Home?” and has, for many years, contributed poetry to leading weeklies and magazines.—­Ed.]

  Nested among her hills she lies,—­
    The city of our love! 
  Within her, pleasant homes arise;
  And healthful airs and happy skies
    Float peacefully above.

  A sturdy few, ’mid hopes and fears,
    Her fair foundations set: 
  And looking backward now, through years
  Of steady gain, how small appears
    Her old estate!—­and yet,

  She dons no autocratic airs,
    In scorn of humbler days,
  But shapes her fortunes and affairs,
  To match the civic wreath she wears
    And justify her bays.

  Honor and Truth her old renown: 
    Conservative of both,
  The virtues of the little town
  She holds in legacy, to crown
    The city’s larger growth.