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"YE SHALL NOT SURELY DIE."-LEAVES FROM MY NOTE-BOOK.

his children grow up to womanhood, and to which he brought their mother a bride, one of his hearers offered him this house until some tenant more profitable might offer. There was a look of desolation about the place; the corroded iron pailing before the doors had lost several bars, the grass was on the steps, and the spiders wove many an undisturbed web across the windows. The little parlour was an exception, everything in it was as neat as hands could make them; all the furniture that had not been sold was put in it, and a few handsome prints hung round the room.

"I suppose, father, the congregation was very small this evening; the rain cam eon just when you left; take off your coat until I dry it, and put this shawl over your shoulders, I put it at the fire when I saw the rain. Here are the slippers, and put your feet on the fender," and saying this, the noble girl took the wet broken shoes off her father's feet, and put them aside with a repressed sigh.

"Jane, is your mother's head-ache any better ?" "I was up with her a minute ago; she is much easier, and intends coming down to tea. Florence wont be here till eight o'clock, and, as it is seven now, I'll go up and put on my grand brown Cashmere."

I once copied from the note-book of a friend, the following sentence:-"Most thoughtful men have some dark fountain in their souls, by the side of which, if there were time, and if it were decorous, they could let their thoughts sit down and wail indefinitely." Mr. Courtain had that dark fountain, as dark as ever flowed through human heart; for years he struggled against difficulties under the hope of better days, now the struggle was over, and he longed for the rest of that "delightsome land" where

"No shadow shall bewilder."

His young daughter Jane was the very sunlight of his existence. She was very fair, with deep blue eyes; in truth, "her beauty," as Lamartine says of Marie Antoinette," belonged more to the ideal than the real." An artist might have painted her for an angel, and he would not have been much astray. She was just eighteen years of age at the time our story begins, and two years younger than her sister Florence, who had been one week as children's governess with three little motherless ones.

Mrs. Courtain was-well-I am always sorry to show the bad side of a picture first-her character must come out by degrees.

Poor Mr. Courtain, with his feet upon the fender, and a shawl over his shoulders, is looking into the fire watching each separate dying ember, neither bewailing the past nor occupied with the present, but thinking of the future; disappointed hopes were in the past, the hope of the future would not be delusive. Happy, twice happy are they whom the world with its cheateries has turned to heaven with its certainties. His reveries were interrupted by a knock at the door which sounded drearily through the house; he heard also the sound of rolling wheels and he knew it was his daughter Florence, who promised to spend the evening with them. Her mother and sister met her in the hall, and all three came into the parlour together. (To be continued.)

RELIGION IN DAILY LIFE.-"Religion is not a perpetual moping over good books. Religion is not even prayer, praise, holy ordinances. These are necessary to religion. But religion is chiefly and mainly the glorifying God amid the duties and trials of the world; the guiding of our course amid the adverse winds and currents of temptation, by the star light of duty and the compass of divine truth; the bearing us manfully, wisely, courageously, for the honor of Christ, our great leader, in the conflict of life."-Carey.

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The woman first eat of the fruit, then acting Satan's part,

Entailed on man the cause of sin, a sin-corrupted heart;

For thus beguil'd, did Adam fall, and God's command defy,

By the vile spirit's lying words, "Ye shall not surely die."

An easy prey he thus has made, of every child of earth, (For we have each the taint of sin, sad heritage of birth),

To every soul, since pass'd away, he told the poisoned lie;

In every ear he whispers still, "Ye shall not surely die."

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Leaves from My Note-book.

YOUNG MEN-No. 2. WHAT is life? This is what Thomas Carlyle would call "a stouthearted princely question;" and one to which innumerable answers have been given. On this theme has been expended the imagination of the poet and the wisdom of the philosopher, without our knowledge being greatly extended or enhanced; but it is not saying too much, to aver, that in this nineteenth century, our ideas of "Life's purposes" are more advanced, if our knowledge of the primary question be still stationary.

A comparison of literary epochs and opinions will demonstrate this.

Shakspeare, the great Father of our English drama, whose wondrous genius grasped every subject, defined life to be, "the fool of death." Truth of a

LEAVES FROM MY NOTE-BOOK.

surety, but still not the whole truth. Pope, laying aside that satirical leer for the nonce, muttered, as if he were sorry at the fact, that "Life is like a river constantly passing away, but constantly coming on." An honest confession this, and marvellously civil to issue from Twickenham! Prior, with a heavy monotonous tone, cries, "it is a noontide shadow, and a midnight dream." Sir William Temple, with a much keener appreciation of the subject, likened it to a froward child, that must be played with and humored." Cotton, with a spirit amounting to moroseness, declared it to be, "the jailor of the soul." Dryden spoke of it as a wayside inn," and if all be true, that is under the cover of a certain book, your accomodation, Mr. Dryden, at the said inn, was none of the best. Samuel Young, with that plaintive spirit discernable in all his writings, calls it, "an inch-high eminence above the grave," and concludes by asking, "Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour?"

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John Keats, has labored to describe it as a book. Burns has called it, a flower, "fair but thorny." Beattie has painted it as "a mountain peak;" and that fierce but grand genius which painted Waterloo, and sketched the dog-feast under the walls of Corinth, has described it as "a rushing meteor."

These definitions are admirable; some of them are useful; they are all in their way accurate; but there is a want in them all, which more modern writers have well supplied.

If Alfred Tennyson speaks of "life," it is to hold up before our eyes a grand heroic campaign-to unfurl a banner on which the words victory or death are emblazoned. If Bulwer Lytton touches this "core of creeds," it is to counsel an earnest grapple with circumstances-to wage a brave war against difficulty. And, although Wadsworth Longfellow is sad as he hymns his strains, it is no way allied to the sentimentalism of Young or Prior. No, no; his watch-word is, "up the craggy heights, and let neither avalanche nor storm turn you aside."

"Life is real, life is earnest."

That is the noble creed of our genial American cousin, and we hail it as a grand omen of his country.

But to bring these remarks into service; will no writer boldly proclaim life a "round of pleasure?" Is there no valiant Philistine to adopt the creed of "eat, drink, and be merry ?" Will no sage whisper in our young men's ears, "Summer ye on the hills of myrrh ?" Practically speaking, there is a class who need no such apostle. The hero of their worship has arrived, and they have set about preaching his philosophy. To such a class we this month address ourselves. Reader, did you ever closely and critically, examine the inner and the outer life of a fast young man? If you have not we invite you to the display. In all probability he enters on business "a very fast young man from the country." He may be—indeed very often is-the child of many prayers, and of high hopes; gradually under the influence of city life he begins to expand. This youth, with a small income -very often with none-wakes up to the knowledge of a profound fact in his estimation, "that it is a manly thing to smoke," To blow a cloud "under his own vine and fig tree," is henceforth the pleasantest of occupations. With this recommendation, and allied to companions who have advanced another stage on the road, he begins to frequent those saloons, that abound as snares in every city and town. There, he may be at first a duplicate of Mr. Verdant Green, of Oxford celebrity, but like that "fresh man he soon learns how to make and quaff sherry cobbler." Gambling is the next step, and if we are more severe on this, it is because some noble games have become prostituted to its spirit-have become so

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associated with the nauseous accompaniments of these "hells," as that no honest man can defend them.

We could wish it were otherwise-and that with the noble games of billiards and chess, there should be allied as pure associations as are attached to cricket, or croquet, or golf.

The first stage in this young gentleman's (?) career is sketched. It commenced in smoke; it will be our purpose to watch its lurid blaze, and gather some lessons from the ashes.

He

With the life of this man the tailor is inseparably associated. He is his divinity. The science of coatmaking in his estimation transcends all human attainnients; we are not sure indeed that it would be quite safe to tell him his vest was not the "latest cut." issues from behind the counter or the desk, and in ten minutes appears "in the square" encased in man millinery-eye-glass, walking-stick, kid gloves, and all the paraphernalia of snobbishness. The bill runs up -so much is paid on account-the tailor or the divinity remains civil, and the little game proceeds.

But there is not unfrequently a lady in the case, not as that expression is generally understood however, for we refer to that great consideration in a young man's life, his "landlady."

We express the unanimous opinion of swelldom in pronouncing her a sad bore; and alas! how often has that "little bill" which Dickens has for ever more bound up with the name of Bob Sawyer, been the bane and terror of the fop.

The second point in this young man's career is achieved. He is hopelessly involved in pecuniary difficulties. Means are resorted to in order that the pressure may be removed-crime follows crime-and at last, if he does not stand before a jury of his country. men, he turns his back upon the country which he has disgraced, and ends a life miserably begun, in a forced exile.

Happily the public opinion of this country has wellnigh settled this question; and in its settlement the much maligned pens of William Makepeace Thackerey and Charles Dickens have done valiant service. It is not now considered a very manly accomplishment to be able to smoke: indeed, the dirtiest urchin that sweeps a crossing can aspire to manliness, if this be a point. There are men-aye, and manly men, too— who would consider it a stain on their character to sit in a saloon redolent of "pale ale and cheroots," where no noble sentiment is ever heard-where it were well uigh impossible to conceive a manly thought.

Young men have now, thanks to the many admirable institutions with which we are surrounded, come to learn that all the tailors in Christendom can't make a man. Not a few of them who had consented to become "walking advertisements," begin to imagine that, were they dressed like the Grand Turk, no sensible person would mind it; that, in fact, people in these times have got something more to think about. So that with these healthy signs about us, let the hope be cherished, that mind is triumphing over matter, and that soon the victory will be completed by the extinction of a class who never studied Pope's splendid couplet,

"Pleasure, wrong or rightly understood, Our greatest evil, or our greatest good." Another class of young men still remains to be spoken of: those generally known as the nambypambies of society. This is the most difficult class to define; and in the definition of which, truth and charity comes into an awkward conflict.

They compose a singular group; generally good, as that word is understood-not unfrequently imbued with strong religious feelings-but oh! they are desperately small. They are quite content to take off

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LEAVES FROM MY NOTE-BOOK.

their hats and give a ringing cheer, provided others have done so, and the cause be good; and more than all, if there be not much exertion in so doing. They have a supreme contempt for all literature, "deeming such knowledge too wonderful for men ;" and, if any any one be so bold as to enter on the cultivation of his mental faculties, they consider him a sad mental contemplation.

We emphatically say this spirit has done our country grievous injury; that these young men are a libel on religion, as well as the manhood of the age. They may be religious, but what we assert is, that religion in all its ennobling influences, must not be measured by such a race of dwarfs. If there is one charge more than another constantly being brought against religion, it is, that it ministers to childishness, and against what the world is accustomed, however falsely, to call manliness. This should not be. We claim for religion the highest of places. It has produced the noblest of men, in all climes and in all ages. It can boast of martyrs, from belted knight to peasant girl. It can boast for champions, some of the noblest and manliest souls that ever peopled this earth; and in its cloud of witnesses, there are names for which the world is proud-names that will be entwined around our country's history when mayhap, "the sceptre shall have passed away from England: when, perhaps, travellers from distant regions shall in vain labor to decipher on some mouldering pedestal the name of our proudest chief-shall hear savage hymns chanted to some misshappen idol over the ruined dome of our proudest temple, and shall see a single naked fisherman wash his nets in the river of the ten thousand masts."

Religion does not, as some practically teach, command us to lay aside all mental culture. Rather does it command the improvement of those talents, by warning us that an account of them will be required at our hands. We tolerate this namby. pambyism simply because it is chiefly the result of temperament, but in all fairness we ask that it step aside-that it stand out of the way-that it leave the field to men more accustomed to war, and who are not prone to dally in the sheen of bright lances.

If we were asked to define the summit of a young man's ambition-the goal of his hopes-we would set down the term Happiness. Paley, in one of those heavy sentences which require much more picking than most people care to give, says, "happiness consists in the constitution of the habits." Landor has remarked, with equal truth, but with more ease in expression, that "goodness does not more certainly make men happy, than happiness makes men good." And to this sentence we invite the attention of our young men. The truest poet of

our time has sung

"Howe'er it be, it seems to me,

'Tis noble only to be good;

Kind hearts are more than coronets,
And simple faith than Norman blood.”

How vast the number seeking pleasure where they will never find it, amid the vices and the follies of this world. Do they imagine this flower grows on every hedge tree-that it can be pulled by the wayside ? Burns had a higher conception of what it was, though he never felt it, when he wrote

"Its no' in books, its no' in lear,

To make us truly blest;

If Happiness has not her seat

And centre in the breast,

We might be wise, or rich, or great,
But never can be blest."

Without at all presuming to point out the royal road to happiness, we venture to erect a beacon or two by the way-side-finger-posts as it were, to point the traveller past certain paths. First, then, let

every young man be assured indolence will never lead to happiness. A quaint Latin proverb hath it, that "evil thoughts intrude in an unemployed mind, as naturally as worms are generated in a stagnant pool;" and this is but the teaching of all experience, and of all philosophy. Idleness may be emphatically called "the cushion upon which the devil reposes," giving rise to melancholy, and a thousand other baneful diseases. Young men, discard this vice. It has not even the merit of being fashionable; for the age in which we live is pre-eminently a busy onean age of great effort, of much philanthropic labor, and pious zeal.

Again, a life of cool indifference will never lead to the cherished goal. To be indifferent to the merits of a struggle such as that now being waged, is to be on the side of the enemy. There can be no neutrality. You must either be a champion of the right, or a defender of the wrong; and it is certainly due to the youth of our country that they, at least, should be clear and firm in their faith, zealous and active in its circulation, and valiant in its defence.

Our theory, then, amounts to this-that a life commenced in the fear of God, carefully watched and tended through more mature years-employed in work for which it is adapted, and surrounded by those comforts which such a course will not fail to draw around it, will result in all the happiness a man can look for in this lower world; for we must never, in contemplating such a subject, forget that, "As the ivy twines around the oak, so does misery and misfortune encompass the happiness of man. Felicity, pure and unalloyed felicity, is not a plant of earthly growth her gardens are the skies."

And surely with such an amount of earthly happiness attained, it is the duty of every young man to seek the happiness of others. Selfishness is the meanest of vices. How true are the words of Joanna Baillie in this respect

"He who will not give

Some portion of his ease, his blood, his wealth For others' good, is a poor frozen churl." Young men what a field lies before you? It is a cheering thought that in these islands there are thousands of young men in harness, working a noble mission. But what could not be done by such a lever properly used? With the young men of our country on the side of right, the moral lazarettos that emit such a nauseous stench could be visited and purgedthe haunts of ignorance could be stormed, and the wolf that has so long lurked behind those battlements be slain-the dens in which vice has nestled and brought forth her demons might be eradicated from off the earth, and this old world of ours grown green and glad-some would rejoice in new-born strength.

Then we might hope for the fulfilment of long cherished hopes, for the accomplishment of earnest desires. Wearily have the years rolled on to those anxiously expecting the advent of a brighter day. Pious men have stood aghast as some new agency of Satan sprung up to clog the wheels of spiritual progress. The moral reformer has mourned the failure of many a cherished scheme, and, as vice held up its unblushing head, has been ready to give all up for lost.

The hearts of many in our country would burst for joy if our youth were to engage in such a holy war. And let us cherish the hope that the small band that bravely stand against their fellows may soon be recruited from the ranks they attack, and that thus strengthened they may march to victory.

The age of chivalry is not quite gone. This is a nobler warfare than was ever waged by the knights of old. A lady's love-lock, or a lady's smile is not the stake in this holy crusade, nor is our champion

PRECEPT AND EXAMPLE.

invested with earthly rank. We do not meet to settle, as of old, a disputed boundary, to draw a line where to rest. No! With the champions of wrong there must be no parley held, their right to a spot on the habitable globe must be denied. The lance must be shivered in a death grapple, not in a tilting match. And with a voice louder than the Admiral's on the quarter-deck of the Victory, our country reminds us "She expects every man to do his duty."

In this noble war there is room for each and all. See that no false ideas keep anyone back. "Tis "better to rub than rust." The work we call you to is true, it is honest, it is just, it is pure, it is lovely, it is of good report; and looking back on the battlefields of the past, looking around on the strife now, well may the cry be raised

"Oh! who would not a champion be
In this the lordlier chivalry?
Uprouse ye now, brave brother band,
With honest heart and willing hand;
We are but few, toil-tried but true,
And hearts beat high to dare and do.
Oh! there be those that ache to see
The day dawn of our victory!

Eyes full of heart-break with us plead,
And watchers weep, and martyrs bleed.

Work, brothers, work! work, hand and brain,
We'll win the golden age again;

And love's milienial morn shall rise
In happy hearts and blessed eyes.

We will, we will, brave champions be,
In this, the lordlier chivalry."

T. W. R., Dungannon.

Precept and Example.

By ABRAHAM J. BROWNE, Master of Hollymount School.

PRECEPTS lead, but examples draw, is a maxim the truth of which no sensible man will deny: and in relation to intoxicating drinks, this is particularly applicable.

You may teach a child all about the sin and odiousness of drunkenness; the misery it brings upon families; the evils it brings to society, and you may tell him the punishment which the drunkard receives for his intemperance; but, if that child sees you drinking at home, or knows you go to the publichouse "an odd time," you may rest assured that there is a far greater likelihood of him becoming a drunkard, than continuing a moderate drinker.

Although every member of society should do their ntmost to put down our most dangerous drinking customs, I think there are two classes of the community specially responsible, namely-parents and teachers.

These two classes have the noble privilege and the fearful responsibility, of training the youngtraining them to be good and useful members of society-to serve their day and generation, and leave an honored name behind them; or training them to be plagues to all with whom they come in contactfor the workhouse, the jail, or the lunatic asylumfor time and for eternity-for heaven, or for hell. I think it was the late Judge Crampton who said"Youthful nurture forms the youthful mind, And as the twig is bent, so the tree is inclin'd." And a greater than Judge Crampton says-" Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." I have known parents to give their children a glass of wine, porter, punch, &c., as the case may be, as a reward for having been good; and I have known children to cry bitterly when they, from any cause, were denied this miscalled luxury. And I heard parents mourn over their sons, and say that Robert, or Henry, or John had taken up with bad companions, and were likely to become drunkards. Of course they took no blame

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Did he

to themselves. May I ask such parents to be honest with themselves? Did not the boy you mourn over take his FIRST GLASS from your own hand? not see you drink your glass of wine, punch, &c., every day? Did he not see you "treat" your visitors to this poison? In the name of common sense (so uncommon now-a-days) how can you expect him not to drink? Precept says it is an awful thing to get drunk; example says it is quite right, fashionable, and polite to drink the drunkard's drink. The boy gene. rally follows example, and example often ruins him. You believe you are right to drink moderately, and if you do not overstep the bounds of moderation you do not set a bad example. I must beg to ask two questions. First-How does a man become a drunkard? By drinking. Secondly-Who teaches him to drink? The parent, guardian, nurse, or friend who puts the liquor to his lips. I think these two answers are as clear as the noonday.

Parents, if you want to see the children whom you love sober men and women, set the example yourselves, and for their sakes, as well as for your own, "drink no wine or strong drink."

In every rank and station in life the monster, strong drink, is to be found. It is pompously conveyed into the palaces and mansions of the great, and stealthily enters the poor man's cabin. In both places it does its work. Disease and death are ever in its train.

Parents, will you assist to banish this cursed thing forever from this our beloved country? In God's name try. Teach your children to shun drink, as they would the "bitter pains of eternal death." Dare to be singular. Banish drink from your home, and set your children a good example.

Teachers are equally responsible before God in this matter. To such I would say-brother and sister fellow-laborers, a poet says yours is a

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'Delightful task! to rear the tender thought,

To teach the young idea how to shoot; To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind; To feed the enliv'ning spirit, and to fix The generous purpose in the glowing breast." You have the forming of the youthful mind, in a great degree, committed to you. The young mind has been compared to hot wax; it is easily impressed. See that the impressions you make are good. Teach the children committed to your care the sin of drunkenness; show them its effects upon society whenever you have an opportunity; teach them to abhor drink. "While we have time let us do good." I would consider myself criminal were I to teach that "wine is a good thing, and to be used with thanksgiving," when I know that directly, or indirectly, it is filling our jails with criminals, our workhouses with paupers, our asylums with maniacs, bringing misery and wretchedness to millions, and sending thousands to unhonored graves. Abstain yourselves-this is the first step. Be consistent, and set your children a good example."

This article has grown too long, we will look at two pictures and be done.

Look at that young man, standing at the door of a beer-shop yonder. You can see by its glaring light the marks of dissipation stamped upon his features. Who is he? He was once a "father's pride and a mother's joy." They looked forward with pride to the bright future that lay before him! They spared no expense that they might fit him to "shine in his profession," and perhaps believed that he would be the prop of their declining years. But what a change! Pale, nervous, dissipated, ragged, and ruined, he stands there a monument of the example of moderate drinking; his hopes blasted; his reputation lost! I ask, had home influence nothing to do with his ruin?

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A SERIES OF LETTERS FROM ABSTAINING CLERGYMEN.

She was

See that poor, degraded, Magdalene! once a loved daughter, the idol, perhaps of the family. Her parents looked forward to the time when she would make some home happy. But a change comes! Death brings the father away. The seducer enters. He takes the glass to assist him in his devilish design. She hesitates. On the plea of moderation she takes it-again, and again. Her shame follows. And now look at that once happy girl, who basked in the sunshine of parental love, an inhabitant of a den of infamy, drunkenness, and shame! Had the ex

ample of moderation nothing to do with her fall?

Let all who have any control over the young be up and doing. Let them set a good example. If there are no drinkers, there will be no makers of drink. Youth is the time to form habit, and let one habit be sobriety. Let all unite to bauish drink from every home. Then our country will prosper. The seeds sown in youth will be reaped in manhood and old age, and our country will be

"Great, glorious, and free!

The first gem of the earth, the first flower of the sea."

3 Series of Letters from Abstaining Clergymen.

I BECAME an abstainer as an example to one class, and as an encouragement to another. I thought it right to set an example, to such as I would wish to reclaim from habits of intemperance, or, to guard against the danger of falling into them; so that I could say:-"I have only asked you to do what I have done myself," and, when I found a few of the more devout members of my congregation making an effort, on Christian principles, to oppose intemperance, I thought it well to encourage them, and to strengthen their hands in the good work, by joining in the same movement; feeling, that my state of health did not require even the moderate use of intoxicating drink of any kind, and in this opinion I am now confirmed, after four years' experience.

I think it well to abstain from joining in the drinking habits of society, which I believe to be unreasonable, and productive of much evil.

We, who think so, wish to prove that such habits are not necessary for the promotion of social inter

course.

WM. R. SLACKE, Rural Dean.

Incumbent of Newcastle, Co. Down.

Miscellaneous.

"Anguish of mind has driven thousands to suicide; anguish of body none. This proves that the health of the mind is of far greater consequence than the health of the body, although both of them are deserving of much more attention than either of them receives."

"And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art

Who readest life's brief psalm,
As one by one thy hopes depart,
Be resolute and calm.

Oh! fear not in a world like this,
And thou shalt know e'er long-
Know how sublime a thing it is

To suffer and be strong."- Longfellow.

""Tis a hard task for women in life, that mask which the world bids them wear.

But there is no

greater crime than for a woman who is ill-used and unhappy, to show that she is so."-Thackerey.

"Art has bridged the great gulf of silence, and by means of the delicate finger, language draws from the deaf mute's heart its secret strings, and gives back those grand truths which shed such light upon the soul."-Anon.

"Poets are the hieorophants of an unapprehended inspiration: the mirrors of the gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the present; the words which express what they understand not; the trumpets which sing to battle and feel not what they inspire; the influence which is moved, but moves not. Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world."— Shelly.

"Great duties are before me and great songs,
And whether crowned or crownless when I fall,
It matters not, so as God's will be done."
-A. Smith.

When stern death has done his worst,
And all our joys are done,

Even by the mystery that unites

The dial to the sun;

Though one exist in heavenly bliss,

One in this world of ill,

Yet heart in heart and soul in soul,
We bide together still.

GEORGE THE THIRD.
I SAW him last on his terrace proud,
Walking in health and gladness,
Begirt with his Court, and all around
Not a single look of sadness.

All nature rejoiced, and the trees were green,
Blythely the birds were singing;

The cymbals replied to the tambourine,
And the bells were merrily tinging.
From the time that he walked in his glory there,
To the grave till I saw him carried,
Was an age of the mightiest change to us,
But to him a night unvaried.

I have stood with the crowd beside his bier,
When not a word was spoken;
And every eye was dim with a tear,
And the silence by sobs was broken.

I have heard the clay on his coffin pour,
To the muffled drum's deep rolling ;
Whilst the minute gun, with its solemn roar,
Drowned the death-bell tolling.

We have fought the fight, from his lofty throne
The foe of the land we have tumbled;
Which gladden'd each heart, save his alone
For whom that foe was humbled.

A daughter beloved-a queen—a son,
And a son's sole child have perished;
And sad was each heart, save the only one
By whom they were foudest cherished.
For his eyes were dim and his mind was dark,
And he sat, in his age's lateness,
Like a vision enthroned, as a solemn mark
Of the frailty of human greatness.

A FAREWELL.

My fairest child, I have no song to give you,
No lark could pipe to skies so dull and grey;
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you
For every day.

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long;
And so make life, death, and that vast forever
The grand, sweet song.
-Rev. C. Kingsley.

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