66 PEACE, BE STILL."

And waves like rolling mountains seem'd to be,
When red-fork'd lightning darted o'er their head,
And dark forebodings fill'd each mind with dread,
The Saviour by his own Almighty will,

Said to the raging waters, "Peace, be still.”
Then the fierce tempest yielded to his sway,
And the proud sea in meek subjection lay.
This simple sentence soothed with magic power
The little mourner in that midnight hour;
And, as the gentle infant sunk to rest,
Calmly she slept upon her sister's breast.

Months roll'd away-and still she lingered here,
Opprest with langour, worn by pain severe.
Yet patient and submissive-full of love;
She seem'd preparing for the courts above.
Though often, with consuming fever prest,
Weary and faint she sought but found no rest,
Oh! never did the holy influence fail,

Which first accompanied that touching tale.
In those dark hours, the whisper "Peace, be still,"
Would in her ears like heavenly music thrill,
Bidding the sounds of grief and sorrow cease,
Till tranquil and compos'd she slept in peace.
At length the hour of sweet release drew nigh,
When she should join the white-rob'd hosts on high;
Prepared, by grace, to leave a world like this,
The Saviour call'd her to the realms of bliss;
The brilliant eye was dim and clouded now,
And death was written on that marble brow;
Yet, ere the gentle spirit took its flight
To the fair world of uncreated light,
She ask'd, in trembling accents, once again,
For those sweet words to ease her dying pain-
"Oh, sister! will you tell me-yes you will-
How Christ said to the waters, 'Peace, be still?""
She listen'd, faint and fainter grew each breath;
She smil'd serenely, in the arms of death;
One gentle sigh escap'd her heaving breast,
And all was pure, seraphic, endless rest!

From "Garland of Poems for the Young."

THE SEASONS OF LIFE.

OB! Life has its Spring-time of sunshine and showers, When the heart is the dwelling of joy—

When thoughts of the birds, of the streams, and the flowers,
The moments of gladness employ.

Life, too, has its Summer of beauty and roses,
When breezes are laden with balm;

And wrapp'd the bright eye of the spirit reposes,
On scenes that are joyous and calm.

And Life hath its Autumn, when flowers that we cherish
Are touched by the breath of the frost;

And hopes that we deemed all too sunny to perish,
Feel the blight of the wind and are lost.

And Life hath its Winter-cold, gloomy, and chilling,
When the heart's solemn beating is slow;
But no fears of death's river my bosom are thrilling,
If JESUS support as I go.

AN ACROSTIC.

I HAVE & Bible of my own-
O how I love its sacred pages-
Here all our sin is fully shown,

Now cleansed by Christ to endless ages.

A nd can I then in sin remain;

D raw on my head God's just displeasure;
A nd seeking happiness below,

Make this vain world my only treasure?

T hou who didst of old inspire

H oly men, thy word to write,
O fill my heart with pure desire,
Make me anew, and set me right.
Saviour of sinners, unto thee I fly;

O save me from my sin, and hear my cry,
N or leave me without hope in Thee to die.

THE ART OF PRINTING.

WE say the Art of printing, and our young friends should know the difference between two things of which they often hear now, and will hear more as they grow older-we mean Science and Art. The difference is simply in this-Science finds things out, and Art does them.

The art of printing is one of the most wonderful and at the same time the most useful that the world has ever known. Mr. John Todd Brown in his Lecture to Young Men on the Art of Printing* gives some very interesting information on this subject. We now give a few extracts. Some of his hard words we have removed and used easier instead; and if our young readers do not know the meaning of some let them turn to their dictionaries, or ask their parents or teachers. But the sooner they find out the meaning of harder words the better, as they must learn to know what they mean some day. Mr. B. says of this art :

You cannot name a subject; you cannot alight on a spot where its influence is not felt. You cannot cherish a thought, you cannot utter a word, to which its omnipresence does not extend. The child at school, the youth at college, the merchant with his bills of lading, the shopkeeper with his list of prices, the professional man with his library, the statesmen with his reported speeches and acts of parliament, and the sovereign with his proclamations, all are aided by this wonderful art. It is so cheap that it is to be found in the ticket handed to you by the beggar; so costly that it climbs the shelves of royalty; so minute that it counts the spawn of an insect: so comprehensive that it traces the course of a comet; and so diffusive that it unfurls itself

"Lectures delivered before the Young Men's Christian Association, published by Green, London.

wherever language is spoken, and descends indestructible from generation to generation. Like the light it dispels darkness. It is universal as the air we breathe. Thought it stimulates. Words it catches and consolidates. It is the herald of government, the handmaid of religion, the vehicle of literature and philosophy. It gives to the tongue all mankind for an audience, and makes the pen mighty as the fabled magician's wand, and whether you consider the simplicity of the means it employs, or the magnitude and multiplicity of the effects it produces, it occupies the proud position of Queen of the Arts.

In investigating this art the first question that occurs is "what do we print ?" The answer is "words." And what are words ?-the expression, the signs, the symbols of thought. You cannot conceive a human being to exist without thought of some sort; but it is a very difficult problem to solve, whether thought can be exercised without language. To any great extent it certainly cannot, but the believer in revelation does not deem it necessary to perplex himself with speculation on this point; because he is told that immediately after Adam's creation God issued the command respecting the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Man must, therefore, have understood language. Nay, he must have been skilled in its use, for he gave names to the creatures, and uttered suitable sentiments on the occasion of his marriage. From this it would appear that he was endowed with speech as directly as with the power of sight and motion; and we should draw the same inference from the fact that at the building of Babel, God confounded this language so that men could not make out their mutual meaning.

There is a slight biographical sketch bearing on this point which may prove not uninteresting. In the summer of 1724 there was found in a field near Hameln, in Germany, a youth about twelve

THE ART OF PRINTING.

years of age in the act of sucking a cow, covered with brownish black hair, and giving utterance to no articulate sound. He received the name of Peter the Wild Boy. Fifteen months after his capture, he was brought to Hanover by George I., and thence to London, and afterwards he was placed in a farmhouse in Hertfordshire, where he resided till his death in 1785. He could not be taught to speak. The plainest articulate sounds he was able to learn were his own name and "ki Sho" and "qui Ca," meant for king George and queen Caroline. In spring he used to wander far and near, subsisting on the fresh green leaves of the trees. To prevent his being lost, there was put on him a collar with the inscription, "Peter the Wild Boy, Broadway Farm, Berkhampstead." He used to jump and dance to the sound of music, was very fond of paintings, and would kiss vivid colouring, and, indeed any object that pleased him much. He was occasionally sullen, and refused to exert himself, but if left alone he would be exceedingly industrious and do as much work as three men. He usually had bread and milk for supper, and the moment he had finished it he went to bed, so that whenever his absence was desired he was supplied with his fare, and no matter what time of day it might be, he retired to rest. He was capable of true affection, for when the farmer who had had charge of him died, he went to his bedside and lifted up his hands, and used other means to awaken him. When he found all his efforts unavailing, he hurried down stairs, seated himself by the fire, and refused all sustenance, and in the course of a few days died. The fact that in the case of Peter the Wild Boy there was no natural power of speech, demonstrates the absurdity of the fable of Herodotus, who narrates that a king of Egypt, with a view of discovering the original language, caused two newly-born children to be brought up by a shepherd amongst his cattle, with