In Memoriam. - Mr. Samuel Tudor,

Died at Hartford, January 29th, 1862, aged 92.     We saw him on a winter's day,         Beneath the hallowed dome,     Where for so many years his heart         Had found its Sabbath-home,     Yet not amid his ancient seat         Or in the accustomed place     Arose his fair, and reverend brow,         And form of manly grace.     Then Music, through the organ's soul         Melodious descant gave,     But yet his voice so rich and sweet         Swell'd not the sacred stave,     The Christmas wreaths o'er arch and nave         Were lingering still to cheer     His parting visit to the fane         Which he had help'd to rear.     And flowers were on the coffin-lid         And o'er his bosom strown,     Fit offering for the friend who loved         The plants of every zone,     And bade them in his favor'd cell         Unfold their charms sublime,     And felt the florist's genial joy         Repel the frost of time.     No cloud of sorrow marr'd his course,         Save when her loss he wept,     Whose image in his constant soul         Its angel presence kept,     But heavenly Mercy's balm was shed         To cheer his lonely breast,     For tenderest love in filial hearts         His latest moments blest.     And so, for more than ninety years         Flow'd on his cloudless span,     In love of Nature, and of Art,         And kindred love for man,     Our oldest patriarch, kind and true,         To all our City dear,     His cordial tones, his greeting words         No more on earth we hear.     Last of that band of noble men         Who for their Church's weal     Took counsel in her hour of need         And wrought with tireless zeal,     Nor in their fervent toil declined         Nor loiter'd on their ways,     Until her Gothic towers arose         And her full chant of praise.     But as we laid him down with tears,         The westering Sun shone bright,     And through the ice-clad evergreens         Diffused prismatic light,     Type of the glory that awaits         The rising of the just,     And so, we left him in the grave         That Christ his Lord had blest.