Passes the sun, and gains his Father's house;
And drinks with angels from the fount of bliss.

Pollock.

FAITH is the fruitful parent of all other graces, and can never be too carefully cultivated and improved. 'Tis the source of pleasure, the lamp of wisdom, and the soul of virtue; 'tis that mysterious ladder by which the soul ascends to heaven, and heaven descends to it, by which a joyful correspondence is continually held between it and its Creator. Faith is that celestial flame that purifies the soul from dross, and opens in it a new and glorious scene, gilded with the ineffable brightness of the Deity, adorned with the inconceivable delights of a blissful eternity, and enriched with the ravishing hopes, pure desires, love divine, and joy unutterable.

BEHOLD MY MOTHER AND MY BRETHREN.

WHO is my mother? or my brethren?
He spake, and looked on them who sat around
With a meek smile of pity, blent with love,
More melting than e'er gleamed from human face,
As when a sunbeam, through a summer shower,
Shines mildly on a little hill-side flock;

And with what look of love he said-" Behold
My mother and my brethren;" for I say
That whosoe'er shall do the will of God,

He is my brother, sister, mother, all.

FROM THE HISTORY OF THE CITY OF MARSEILLES.

ABOUT the conclusion of the last century, Nicholas Compion, a native of Marseilles, embarked on board a ship belonging to that port, and bound for Egypt. Unfortunately he was taken, together with the vessel, and other passengers, by a Barbary corsair, and carried into Tripoli, where he was purchased by a wealthy inhabitant as a slave. Notwithstanding the mildest treatment, Compion could not brook his present situation; every moment of his life was embittered by the recollection of what he had left behind him, perhaps for ever,-his country and his relations.

One day his master, who had tried in vain to comfort him, addressed him in these words :-" Pledge me thy word and honour, and promise to return, if I give thee leave to go to Marseilles, to visit thy brethren, and settle thy family concerns. May the Almighty guide thy steps, and bring thee back in health. Compion joyfully accepted of the kind offer, went back to his own country, and, in spite of the allurements of his friends, especially the prayers and tears of a beloved wife and children, he, like another Regulus, returned to the place of his captivity. On his arrival at his master's house, he found him overwhelmed with the deepest sorrow, lamenting over his almost expiring wife, whom he loved tenderly. "Christian," said he, on Compion's coming in, or entering the room, "thou comest in good time to my aid; thou seest my affliction; heaven hath sent thee back to pray to thy God for my wife, and myself, for He must be moved by the suppli cations of a righteous man."

Compion fell on his knees, and, prostrate by the side of the good Musselman, fervently prayed, like the son of Tobias, on the first night of his wedding.

The ardent wishes of those two honest creatures were heard, every day the wife grew better, and when entirely restored to health, the grateful master spoke thus to his slave: "Hear me, Christian, thou hast no longer to grieve on my account, nor thine, I wish thou couldst live with me, and take my daughter for thy wife, but both thy religion and mine forbid it. Its laws must be obeyed, though ever so contrary to my inclination. Hear me to the end, and do not interrupt me with thy thanks; I deserve them not yet, and wish it were in my power to merit them. One good I freely bestow upon thee, it is thy liberty. This is not enough for me, I have ordered a ship to be laden with corn, it belongs to thee. Depart hence. Since it is the will of heaven that thou shouldst leave me, thou must not return empty-handed to thy countrymen; let them all be my friends, as I am, and shall ever remain thine."

The fact as above stated, is vouched to by the son of the late M. Compion, who till his death kept up a constant intercourse with his worthy friend of Tripoli : and this man was a Turk—an infidel. Go thou, proud Christian, and do likewise!

THE distribution of all our temporal mercies is wisely regulated by the hand of God. Some men are favoured with a large share of worldly blessings; some with things just, necessary, and convenient; while some,

equally deserving, have scarcely whereon to lay their heads. The disposal of these things is the word of God. He maketh poor, and maketh rich; He bringeth low, and lifteth up; and none have a right to say to him, "What doest thou?"

MEEKNESS is imperfect, if it be not active and passive; if it will not enable us to subdue our own passions and resentments, as well as qualify us to bear patiently the passions and resentments of others.

A small degree of knowledge of the spirit of Christianity seems to be enough to convince us, that no education can be of true advantage to young women, but that which trains them up in humble industry, in great plainness of life, in exact modesty of dress, manners, and carriage, and in strict devotion.

TRUTH is the glory of time, the daughter of eternity; a title of the highest grace, and a note of divine nature. Her essence is with God, her dwelling with his servants, her will in his wisdom, and her work in his glory.

TEMPERANCE has those particular advantages above all other means of preserving health, that it may be practised by all ranks and conditions, at any season, or at any place. It is a kind of regimen which every man may observe, without interruption to business, expense of money, or loss of time.

WHAT heart can despond, what heart can fail to rejoice, when it hears the animated declaration, "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life." I will give thee perfect felicity, which shall never be interrupted; I will give thee an eternity of substantial delights, adequate to thy nature, and sufficient to fill up all the desires of thy soul.

THE VIOLET AND THE ROSE.

AWAKE, my sister! the low words came,
From the bed where a young rose grew,—
Awake thee, my sister violet,

And open thine eyes of blue;

Shake the silver dew from thy lovely head,
And thy perfume leaves unfold,
And rejoice like me in the blessed light
Of the morning's living gold.

All other fair buds are gazing out,
And wooing the shining sun,
And I hear the echo of bounding feet
By the passing breeze borne on ;
Perchance some maiden may wander by,
And look on our place of rest,
And bear us away from our lowly home,
Το repose in her own fair breast.

Oh! bliss to repose on so lovely a couch,
And be gazed on by beauty's eye:
Oh! bliss to be praised by her gentle voice,
And be fanned by her fragrant sigh!