November 1 1860

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Thursday November 1st 1860

Mayest those live in joy for ever.
Nought from thee these pleasure sever;
From thy heart arise no sigh,
And no tear bedew thine eye:
Joyes be many, cares be few.
Smooth the path thou shalt pursue,
and Heaven’s richest blessings shine
Ever on both thee and thine.

Round thy path may fariest flowers,
As in amaranthine bowers,
Bloom and blossom bright and fair,–
Load with sweets the ambient air;
Be thy path with roses strewn,
And thy thy hours to care unknown;
Sorrow cloud thy pathway never,
And happiness be thine for ever

Such is the sincear wish of your

Friends

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