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Hanna, Abigail Stanley

"Withered Leaves from Memory's Garland"

It is too much the custom for people to look
with contempt upon those who have not quite so good advantages, or
more especially, those who have not so much wealth, without regard to
intellect or education.
Custom has introduced into society vices of all descriptions. Not long
since it was the custom to pass the social glass, and it has been the
means of making a great many inebriates, and making beggars of a great
many families; thus we see the effects of that custom. The custom of
revelry, balls, parties, and gay assemblies, tend to dissipate the
minds of youth, and lead them into the paths of vice. The custom
of card-playing has led to the gaming-table, and been the ruin of
thousands.
"The suns of riot flow down the loose stream,
Of false and tainted joy on the rankled soul,
The gaming fury falls, till in one gulf
Of total ruin; honor, virtue, peace,
Friends, families, and fortune
Headlong sink."


Annie Howard.

It was a chill, dreary day in November. The autumn winds swept with
a dirge-like sound through the tops of the tall old trees that
overshadowed a stately mansion, where a group of sorrowing friends
had collected, to pay the last sad rite, to one of earth's fairest,
loveliest flowers. All without wore an air of gloom and melancholy.
Ever and anon a sere and yellow leaf would fall with a faint rustling
sound, speaking in mournful language to the heart, that all things
earthly must decay; and well did the scene accord with the sadness and
sorrow that reigned in the hearts of those who had assembled on that
mournful occasion.


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