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"There where some church-yard trees the place disclose,
The village preacher's time-worn mansion rose.

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“It is an old house this," said I to myself, as I was busied one fresh morning, towards the end of the year, in trimming and fastening the rose plants, with which I had decked its grey and shattered walls," It is an old house now,-and cannot be expected to stand for many years-but it has had a prouder destiny than hundreds of more magnificent mansions-for it has given birth to the wise, the accomplished, and the good-it has been coeval with a system of opinions and of institutions that are now fast passing away, and which it seems unwilling to survive-and, viewing it therefore as a memorial of the times that are gone-of the good, and the wise, and the accomplished whom it has sheltered-and of the institutions and

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