In Memoriam. - Hon. Thomas S. Williams,

Late Chief Justice of Connecticut, died at Hartford, on Sunday morning, December 15th, 1861, aged 84.                         'Tis not for pen and ink,     Or the weak measures of the muse, to give     Fit transcript of his virtues who hath risen     Up from our midst this day.                         And yet 'twere sad     If such example were allow'd to fleet     Without abiding trace for those behind.     To stand on earth's high places, in the garb     Of Christian meekness, yet to comprehend     And track the tortuous policies of guile     With upright aim, and heart immaculate,     To pass just sentence on the wiles of fraud,     And deeds of wickedness, yet freshly keep     The fountain of good-will to all mankind,     To mark for more than fourscore years, a line     Of light without a mist, are victories     Not oft achiev'd by frail humanity,     Yet were they his.                         Of charities that knew     No stint or boundary, save the woes of man     He wish'd no mention made. But doubt ye not     Their record is above.                         Without the tax     That age doth levy, on the eye or ear,     Movement of limbs, or social sympathies,     In sweet retirement of domestic joy     His calm, unshadow'd pilgrimage was closed     By an unsighing transit.                         Our first wintry morn     Lifted its Sabbath face, and saw him sit     All reverent, at the table of his Lord,     And heard that kindly modulated voice     Teaching Heaven's precepts to a youthful class     Which erst with statesman's eloquence controll'd     A different audience. The next holy day     Wondering beheld his place at church unfill'd,     And found him drooping in his peaceful home,     Guarded by tenderest love.                         But on the third,     While the faint dawn was struggling to o'ercome     The lingering splendors of a full-orb'd moon,     The curtains of his tent were gently raised     And he had gone,--gone,--mourn'd by every heart     Among the people. They had seen in him     The truth personified, and felt the worth     Of such a Mentor.                         'Twere impiety     To let the harp of praise in silence lie,     We who beheld so beautiful a life     Complete its perfect circle. Praise to Him     Who gave him power in Christ's dear name to pass     Unharm'd, the dangerous citadel of time,     Unsullied, o'er its countless snares to rise     From earthly care--to rest,--from war--to peace,--     From chance and change,--to everlasting bliss.     Give praise to God.