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.

The deceased was one whom we had all known and loved, for she was one of those sweet angelic beings, whom it is impossible not to love. Her presence, like sunshine, seemed to diffuse light and cheerfullness upon all who came within the magic circle of her influence.

Her glad laugh fell like music upon the ear. Her large dark eyes beamed with the light of intelligence and affection. The softest rose tint tinged her alabaster cheek, and the tones of her voice were like the melody of an Aeolian harp, when touched by the wandering zephyrs.

But youth, beauty, and goodness could not shield her from the cruel shafts of the destroyer. The hand of disease fell heavily upon her, and her fragile form sank beneath the blow, and faded like a blighted flower. There sat her parents bowed down by grief, for the being whom they most loved on earth, the light of their home, the joy, the hope, the pride of their hearts, had been taken from them, and they were indeed left desolate.

One ray of light alone illumined the darkness that overshadowed them like a pall. But one star shone out upon the dim horizon of the future, the hope of being reunited with their beloved child in that better land, where tears shall be wiped from all eyes--where love never dies, and parting scenes are never known.

The funeral services were performed in a solemn and impressive manner. The coffin was then opened, and one by one we approached to take the last fond look of its frail tenant. Oh, could it be that that form, so cold and motionless, clad in the white habiliments of the grave, was that of the once lovely and fascinating Annie Howard? Were those lips that were wont to entrance with their melody forever sealed in death? Would those eyes never again beam with the light of affection, or kindle with the glow of enthusiasm? Oh, how forcibly were we reminded that "passing away" is written upon all things here below, and that the fairest forms that walk the earth, in all the pride of beauty, must go down to the dark, cold grave, to be food for the loathesome worm. With slow and faltering steps, and with tear-suffused eyes, we followed the remains to the narrow house, appointed for all the living; and then mournfully returned to our homes, to muse upon the uncertainty, and the perishable nature of all earthly joys.

Annie Howard was one of my earliest and dearest friends, and thinking that, perhaps, her history might be interesting to some who may chance to peruse these pages, I have endeavored, although but imperfectly, to give a brief sketch of her life.

She was the only child of wealthy and highly respectable parents. Possessed of refined and cultivated minds, they were anxious that their daughter should be educated in all the more solid branches, which would render her a useful member of society, as well as the lighter graces and accomplishments which, too often, in the present day, supercede the cultivation of the mind. Endowed with a brilliant intellect, she excelled in whatever she attempted, and the fond anticipations of her friends were more than realized. The acquirement of literature was to her a source of exquisite delight. Her thirsty soul drank at the fountain of knowledge, with as much avidity as the weary traveller slakes his thirst at the fountain of cool waters, that bubbles up in the midst of the sandy desert. Her inquiring mind was never weary of exploring the deep mysteries of science or poring over the pages of ancient lore. Music, painting and poetry seemed to form the etherial essence of her mind. She played with exquisite skill and taste, and sang with surpassing sweetness and melody.

Her brilliant powers of mind, the beauty of her person, her graceful, winning manners, the sweetness of her disposition, and the unaffected goodness of her heart, rendered her a universal favorite in the circle in which she moved.

Yet, was she ever modest and unassuming. She was far from that vain haughtiness that is the common characteristic of narrow and superficial minds, and which, too often, displays itself in persons of cultivated intellect, where there is not a corresponding goodness of heart. It seemed to be her aim to render those with whom she associated, pleased with themselves rather than to impress upon them a sense of her own superiority. This trait in her character had in it nothing allied to sycophancy, which quickly disgusts persons of sense and refinement; neither did it originate merely in the desire to please, but had its source in an inherent principle of her nature, which prompted her to seek to promote the happiness of others.

She possessed an intuitive knowledge of human nature, which, together with her extreme delicacy, with regard to the feelings of others, formed the keystone which unlocked to her the secret recesses of hearts, which, to a less careless observer, would have been veiled in impenetrable coldness and reserve.

In early life she had given her heart to the Saviour, and had consecrated herself to the service of God; and she sought to follow the example of the meek and lowly Jesus.

The poor, the sick, and the sorrowful, were objects of her peculiar care and attention. Many a poor, crushed and broken-hearted being, borne down by poverty and affliction, was made glad by her sympathy and kindness. She possessed that sweet, graceful way of offering a benefit which rendered a favor from her doubly acceptable. Among the gentlemen of her acquaintance, there were many who, fascinated by the charms both of her mind and person, sought to win her heart, but of all her numerous admirers, there was but one whose affection was reciprocated, and that one was well worthy the love and confidence of such a being as Annie Howard. He possessed those noble qualities of heart and mind which command the admiration of the great and good, and which render man, in the true sense of the term, the noblest work of God. Gifted with strong powers of mind, which had been disciplined by a thorough education, possessing principles of the strictest integrity, and an elegant and prepossessing exterior, he was beloved and esteemed by all who knew him. He was a physician, and had the reputation of being a skilful practitioner. He had resided in the same village with Annie some two or three years, and being of congenial dispositions, and thrown much into each others' society, a strong attachment had sprung up between them, which was sanctioned by the friends of both parties.

But brilliant intellect, beauty of person, sweetness of disposition, goodness of heart, nor love of friends could save her from death's relentless dart. In her case, the words of the poet Wordsworth were verrified,

"The good die first,
And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust
Burn to the socket."

Ere nineteen summers had passed over her head, consumption had fastened upon her vitals. At first the symptoms were so slight that her friends felt little alarm, but soon the hollow cough, which sounds so much like a funeral knell, the unnatural brilliancy of the eye, the hectic glow upon the cheek, and the short, labored breathing, told but too plainly that death was not to be cheated of his prey. It has been said that death loves a shining mark, and it is true that he often passes by the loathsome form, shriveled by age, and want, and lingering disease, to feast upon the sparkling eye, the ruby lips, and glowing cheek of youth and beauty.

Annie soon became fully sensible that she was not long for this world, but was perfectly calm and resigned. She possessed that hope that alone can sustain the soul in sickness and suffering, when we feel that our hold upon earth is each day growing weaker, and eternity, vast, boundless, with all its untried scenes, with all its deep mysteries, and overwhelming interests, lies stretched out before us, when the soul feels that it must soon be called upon to enter upon those untried scenes, and to fathom the deep mysteries of that endless existence, and that it must go alone and unattended into the presence of its Maker, there to render up its account. She felt that, although she was unworthy of God's favor, yet Christ had shed his blood for her, and she trusted that her sins had been washed away by that blood, and her soul made meet for the heavenly inheritance. She strove to console the grief of her parents, who were almost heartbroken at the thought of parting from their child. She pointed them to that home beyond the grave, where they should be reunited never more to part; never more to suffer pain, or sorrow, or care; where tears are wiped from all eyes, and the ransomed spirit will be permitted to join with the heavenly host in singing praises to the Redeemer.

She bore her sufferings with sweet resignation. As her bodily strength failed her mind seemed to expand, and her intellectual powers to grow higher. Her love of the beautiful seemed also to increase. The deep blue sky, when studded by a countless host of brilliant stars; the soft, fleecy clouds when reflecting the gorgeous hues of sunset; the music of the birds; the whispering of the breeze, making mysterious melody as it mingled with the rustling of the leaves; these, with a thousand other sweet but incomprehensible charms of nature, seemed to form the link that bound her soul to earth.

Gradually her strength failed; each day her fragile form became more attenuated, and her thin hand more transparent. There was nothing terrible in the approach of death. Nothing that was revolting to the most sensitive mind; but when we were summoned to stand around her dying bed, there was something so calm, so heavenly, so peaceful, in the expression of her countenance, that we all felt that it was indeed a privilege to witness the departure of her soul to the world of spirits, and we involuntarily exclaimed, "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his."