A Fair Young Girl Was To The Altar Led By Him She Loved, The Chosen Of Her Heart; And Words Of Solemn Import There Were Said, And Mutual Vows Were Pledged Till Death Should Part. But Life Was Young, And Death A Great Way Off, At Least It Seemed So Then, On That Bright Morn; And They No Doubt, Expected Years Of Bliss, And In Their Path The Rose Without A Thorn. Cherished From Infancy With Tenderest Care, A Precious Only Daughter Was The Bride; And When That Young Protector'S Arm She Took, She For The First Time Left Her Parents' Side. With All A Woman'S Tender, Trustful Heart, She Gave Herself Away To Him She Loved; Why Should She Not, Was He Not All Her Own, A Choice By Friends And Parents Too Approved? How Rapidly With Him The Days Now Fly, With Him The Partner Of Her Future Life; Happy And Joyous As A Child She'd Been, Happy As Daughter, Happier Still As Wife. But Ere Eight Months In Quick Succession Passed, One To Each Human Heart A Dreaded Foe, Entered Her House, And By A Single Stroke, Blasted Her Hopes, And Laid Her Idol Low. Three Months Of Bitter Anguish Was Endured, But Hope Again Revived, And She Was Blest, When Pressing To Her Heart A Darling Child, Whose Little Head She Pillowed On Her Breast. Not Long Is She Permitted To Enjoy, This Sweetest Bud Of Promise To Her Given; Short As An Angel'S Visit Was Its Stay, When God, Who Gave It, Took It Up To Heaven. Ah, What A Contrast One Short Year Presents! Replete With Happiness - Replete With Woe; In That Brief Space, A Maiden Called, And Wife, Widow And Mother Written - Childless Too. Surely My Friend, I Need Not Say To Thee, Look Not To Earth For What It Can't Bestow; 'Tis At The Best A Frail And Brittle Reed, Which Trusting For Support, Will Pierce Thee Through. Then Let Us Look Above This Fleeting Earth, To Heaven And Heavenly Joys Direct Our Eyes; No Lasting Happiness This World Affords - "He Builds Too Low Who Builds Below The Skies." Weston, Dec. 1, 1852.