166

FALL OF THE LEAF.

nity in his condescension; it does not sink, but exalt his reputation and character. A man of inferior rank, that knows himself, knows to be content, quiet, and thankful in his lower sphere. As he has not an extravagant veneration and esteem for those external things which raise one man's circumstances so much above another's, so he does not look upon himself as the worse or less valuable man, purely because he has them not; much less does he envy them that have them. As he has not their advantages, so neither has he their temptations. He is in that state of life which the great Arbiter and Disposer of all things hath allotted him, and he is satisfied. But as a deference is owing to external superiority, he knows how to pay a proper respect to those that are above him, without that abject and servile cringing that discovers an inordinate esteem for their condition. As he does not overesteem them for their little accidental advantages in which they excel him, so neither does he overvalue himself for those things in which he excels others.

FALL OF THE LEAF..

SEE the leaves around us falling,
Dry and wither'd, to the ground;
Thus to thoughtless mortals calling,
In a sad and solemn sound:

"Sons of Adam! (once in Eden,
Blighted when like us he fell,)
Hear the lecture we are reading :
'Tis, alas! the truth we tell.

Virgins! much, too much presuming.
On your boasted white and red;
View us, late in beauty blooming,
Number'd now among the dead.

Griping misers! nightly waking,
See the end of all your care;

APPEARANCES OF NATURE IN SEPTEMBER. 167

Fled on wings of our own making,

We have left our owners bare.

Sons of honour! fed on praises,
Flutt'ring high in fancied worth:
Lo! the fickle air that raises,

Brings us down to parent earth.

Youths! though yet no losses grieve you,
Gay in health and manly grace,
Let not cloudless skies deceive you ;
Summer gives to autumn place.

Venerable sires! grown hoary,
Hither turn the observing eye;
Think amidst your falling glory,
Autumn tells a winter nigh.

Yearly in our course returning,
Messengers of shortest stay;
Thus we preach, the truth concerning,
• Heaven and earth shall pass away.

On the tree of Life Eternal,

Man, let all thy hopes be staid;

Which alone, for ever vernal,

Bears a leaf that shall not fade."

APPEARANCES OF NATURE IN SEPTEMBER.

Now soften'd suns a mellow lustre shed,

The laden orchards glow with tempting red;
On hazel-boughs the clusters hang embrown'd,

And with the sportsman's war the new shorn-fields resound!

THIS is in general a very agreeable month, the distinguishing softness and serenity of autumn with its deep blue skies prevailing through great part of it. The days are now very sensibly shortened; and the mornings and evenings are chill and damp, though

168

FABLE OF THE BEARS AND THE BEES.

the warmth is still considerable in the middle of the day. This variation of temperature is one cause why autumn is an unhealthy time, especially in the warmer climates, and in moist situations. The labours of the husbandman have but a very short intermission; for, no sooner is the harvest gathered in, than the fields are again ploughed up and prepared for the winter corn, rye and wheat, which are sown during this month and the next. Not only the swallow-tribe, but many other small birds which feed on insects, disappear on the approach of cold weather, when the insects themselves are no longer to be met with. On the other hand, some birds arrive at this season from still more northerly countries to spend the winter with us. The fieldfare and red-wing, whose departure was mentioned in March, return about the end of September. They feed chiefly on the berries with which our woods and hedges are plentifully stored all the winter. The most useful fruit this country affords, the apple, successively ripens, according to its different kinds, from July to September or October; but the principal harvest of them is about the close of this month. They are now gathered for our English vintage, the cyder-making, which in some counties is a busy and important employment. Pears, treated in the same manner, yield a vinous liquor called perry. These are the common drinks in the counties where they are chiefly made. The autumnal equinox, when day and night are again equal over the whole globe, happens about the 23d of September. This, as well as the vernal, is generally attended with storms, which throw down much of the fruit yet remaining on the trees.

FABLE OF THE BEARS AND THE BEES.

As two young bears, in wanton mood,
Forth issuing from a neighbouring wood,
Came where the industrious bees had stor'd,
In artful cells, their luscious hoard;

THE ISLE OF PATMOS.

O'erjoy'd they seiz'd, with eager haste,
Luxurious, on the rich repast.

Alarm'd at this, the little crew
About their ears vindictive flew."
The beasts, unable to sustain
Th' unequal combat, quit the plain.
Half-blind with rage, and mad with pain,
Their native shelter they regain;
There sit, and now, discreeter grown,
Too late their rashness they bemoan;
And this by dear experience gain,
That pleasure's ever bought with pain.-
So when the gilded baits of vice
Are plac'd before our longing eyes,
With greedy haste we snatch our fill,
And swallow down the latent ill:
But when experience opes our eyes,
Away the fancied pleasure flies.
It flies, but oh! too late we find,
It leaves a real sting behind.

169

THE ISLE OF PATMOS.

It is not possible for any power of language, adequately to describe the appearance presented, at the rising or setting of the sun, in the Ægean Sea. Whether in dim perspective, or amidst hues of liveliest purple, the isles and continents of Greece present their varied features, nor pen nor pencil can pourtray the scenery. Whatsoever, in the warmest fancies of my youth, imagination had represented of this gifted country, was afterwards not only realized but surpassed. Let the reader picture to his conception, an evening sun behind the towering cliffs of Patmos, gilding the battlements of the Monastery of the Apocalypse with its parting rays; the consecrated island surrounded by inexpressible brightness, seeming to float upon an abyss of fire; while the moon, in milder splendour, is rising full over the opposite expanse. Such a scene we actually witnessed, with feelings naturally excited by all

I

170

THE MARTYRDOM OF ABDALLAH.

the circumstances of local solemnity; for such, indeed, might have been the face of nature, when the inspiration of an apostle, kindling in its contemplation, uttered the alleluias of that mighty voice, telling of “ salvation, and glory, and honour, and power."

THE MARTYRDOM OF ABDALLAH.

ABDALLAH and Sabat were intimate friends, and be ing young men of family in Arabia, they agreed to travel together, and to visit foreign countries. They were both zealous Mahometans. Sabat is son of IbrahimSabat, and a noble family of the line of Beni-Sabat, who trace their pedigree to Mahomet. The two friends left Arabia, after paying their adorations at the tomb of their prophet at Mecca, and travelled through Persia, and thence to Cabul. Abdallah was appointed to an office of state under Zeman Shah, King of Cabul; and Sabat left him there, and proceeded on a tour through Tartary. While Abdallah remained at Cabul, he was converted to the Christian faith by the perusal of a Bible, belonging (as is supposed) to a Christian from Armenia, then residing at Cabul. In the Mahometan states it is death for a man of rank to become a Christian. Abdallah endeavoured for a time to con ceal his conversion, but finding it no longer possible, he determined to flee to some of the Christian churches near the Caspian Sea. He accordingly left Cabul in disguise, and had gained the great city of Bochara in Tartary, when he was met in the streets of that city by his friend Sabat, who immediately recognized him.. Sabat had heard of his conversion and flight, and was filled with indignation at his conduct. Abdallah knew his danger, and threw himself at the feet of Sabat. He confessed that he was a Christian, and implored him, by the sacred tie of their former friendship, to let him escape with his life. "But, Sir, (said Sabat, when relating the story himself) I had no pity. I caused my servants to seize him, and I delivered him up to Morad Shaw, King of Bochara, He was sentenced to die,