works—"The Poetry of Flowers and Flowers of Poetry," and "The Floral Offering," besides contributing to nearly all the literary magazines and the annuals of every season. She often wrote in prose, because prose was required. Many of her sketches and stories are charming, from their playful vivacity and fanciful descriptions; yet the poetical spirit always predominating, shows that she would gladly have rhymed the article, had she been permitted. Poetry was, in truth, her native language; on the wing of versification she moved gracefully as a bird, and always in a region of light and love. This healthy, hopeful, happy spirit is the distinguishing characteristic of her productions. Dark fancies never haunted her pure mind; misanthropy never laid its cold withering hand on her heart; nor is there a single manifestation of bitter memories and disappointed feelings in her poems.
That with such a cheerful, kind, affectionate genius, as well as heart, Mrs. Osgood should have been tenderly beloved by her own family and familiar Mends, would be expected; but she had made thousands of friends who never looked on her pleasant face; and when the tidings of her death went forth, she was mourned as a light withdrawn from many a home where her rhymed lessons had added a charm to household affections, and made more "beautiful the lot of woman. Mrs. Osgood had resided for several years in the city of New York, and there she died. May 12th., 1850, of pulmonary consumption, enduring her wasting disease with sweet patience, and even playful cheerfulness. The last stanza she wrote, or rather rhymed, alluded to the near approach of her fate:
"I’m going through th' Eternal Gates
Ere June's sweet roses blow;
Death's lovely angel leads me there.
And it is sweet to go."
She died a few days after, being yet young for one who had written so much—hardly thirty-eight. Two of her three daughters survive her irreparable loss: her husband returned from California to watch over her last months of sickness, but he could not save her. She was a devoted wife and mother, as lovely in her daily life as in her poems.
In 1849, the poems of Mrs. Osgood, superbly illustrated, In one volume, were published in Philadelphia.
OSTERWYK, MARIA VAN,
A Dutch artist, gave such early proofs of her genius, that her father was induced to place her under the direction of John David de Heem, at Utrecht. She studied nature attentively, and improved so much by her master's precepts, that, in a short time, her works rivalled his. Her favourite subjects were flowers and still life, which she painted in a delicate manner, and with great freedom of hand. She had so much skill as to adapt her touch to the different objects she imitated. She grouped her flowers with taste, and imitated their freshness and bloom admirably. Louis the Fourteenth was exceedingly pleased with her performances, and honoured one with a place in his cabinet; as also did the Emperor and Empress of Germany, who sent to this artist their own miniatures set in diamonds as a mark of their esteem. King William the Third gave her nine hundred florins for one picture, and she
