Book Treasures Of Maecenas

IN MEMORIAM since never more for thee The sun comes up our eastern skies Less bright henceforth shall sunshine be To some fond hearts and saddened eyes. There are who for thy last long sleep Shall sleep as sweetly never more Shall weep because thou canst not weep, And grieve that all thy griefs are oer. Sad thrift of love the loving breast On which the aching head was thrown Gave up the weary head to rest But kept the aching for its own. JOHN PAUL BoCOCK, who died in Wayne, Penn- sylvania, on the seventeenth of June, in a cottage in which, he wrote a friend three months ago, he had expected to spend some happy days, was a man of singularly fine taste and of unusual attainments. Born and educated in the capital of the Old Dominion, where his family had long been prominent in political and social circles, he brought with him to his work in the North the best elements of Southern culture. For many years he labored successfully in journalism, having been connected editorially with several of the leading papers of Philadelphia and New York. His talents were of the most versatile nature, his contribu- tions to the periodicals, which were numerous, com- prising stories, essays, and articles on a great variety of subjects, and poetry of an excellent quality. His writings even on commonplace topics bore the marks vii