chilling storm,
With eager hand now shakes the tottering door,
Now rushes breathless o’er the snow-clad floor. 
Her tongue soft comfort to the mourner speaks,
Her silver voice with soft emotion breaks;
Round the drear hovel roves her moistened eye,
Her graceful bosom heaves the lengthened sigh. 

      “I know thee now—­I know that angel frame—­

O that the muse might dare to breathe thy name: 
Nor thine alone, but all that sister-band
Who scatter gladness o’er a weeping land;
Who comfort to the infant sufferer bring,
And ‘teach with joy the widow’s heart to sing.’ 

      “For this, no noisy honors fame shall give,

In your own breasts your gentle virtues live;
No sounding numbers shall your names reveal,
But your own hearts the rich reward shall feel. 

          
                                                                              “ALBERT.”

In the month of August, 1805, Mrs. Graham paid another visit to her friends in Boston, of whom she spoke with much affection and esteem.  She used to mention, with peculiar approbation, a society of pious ladies there, who met once in every week for prayer and mutual edification.

On returning to New York, she again wrote to her friend Mrs. C——­, renewing her endeavors for her consolation and establishment in the faith of Christ; and soon after informed her of the dangerous illness of two of her grandchildren, one of whom, in the righteous dispensations of an unerring Providence, was taken, and the other left.

To Mrs. C——­, Boston.

“GREENWICH, N.Y., Sept. 26, 1805.

“MY DEAR FRIEND—­I arrived here on Monday.  I found my children in health, but much affected with the death of the amiable youth M——­, and the melancholy situation of his bereaved parents.

“The epidemic spreads over the city in every direction among the few remaining in it.  All the public offices are here; crowds of the citizens, and houses and stores spring up in a day; all is bustle and confusion, and all seem mad on business.

“Parting with my dear friend was most painful, so painful that nothing could alleviate it but the presence of my own children, who, could there have been room from deeper sorrows, would have shared it with me.  O that I could put my God in my place in your heart.  What are earthly friends?  How few are steady against all change of circumstances; of these, fewer still have it in their power to supply every link of friendship’s chain; a thousand unforeseen incidents disappoint their wishes and frustrate their hopes, rendering abortive their greatest exertions.  But there is a Friend, everywhere present, thoroughly acquainted with every circumstance of the heart and of the life; all-powerful to relieve; whose love is invariable, and ever the most tender when every other friend stands aloof; a friend in adversity, ‘a friend who sticketh closer than a brother,’ whose