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untouched by joy or grief, fear or anger. Something remote seems ever weighing upon his mind. His note or call is as of one lost or wandering, and to the farmer is prophetic of rain. Amid the general joy and the sweet assurance of things, I love to listen to the strange clairvoyant call. Heard a quarter of a mile away, from out the depths of the forest, there is something peculiarly weird and monkish about it.

12. Wordsworth's lines upon the European species apply equally well to ours:

“O blithe new-comer! I have heard,

I hear thee and rejoice:
O cuckoo ! shall I call thee bird ?

Or but a wandering voice?
“Thrice welcome, darling of the spring!

Even yet thou art to me
No bird, but an invisible thing,
A voice, a mystery.”




THOSE evening bells--those evening bello

Of youth, and home, and that sweet time
When last I heard their soothing chime!


Those joyous hours are past away,
And many a heart, that then was gay,
Within the tomb now darkly dwells,
And hears no more those evening bells.


And so 't will be when I am gone;
That tuneful peal will still ring on,
While other bards shall walk these dells,
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells.






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GERMAN, whose sense of sound was exceedingly

acute, was passing by a church, a few days after he had landed in this country, and the sound of music attracted him to enter, though he had no knowledge of our language. The music proved to be a piece of nasal psalmody, sung in most discordant fashion, and the sensitive German would fain have covered his ears. As this was scarcely civil, and might appear like insanity, his next impulse was to rush into the open air, and leave the hated sounds behind him.

2. “But this, too, I feared to do," said he, “lest offense might be given; so I resolved to endure the torture, with the best fortitude I could assume; when lo! I distinguished, amid the din, the soft, clear voice of a woman singing in perfect tune. She made no effort to drown the voices of her companions, neither was she disturbed by their noisy discord; but patiently and sweetly she sang in full, rich tones. One after another yielded to the gentle influence; and before the tune was finished, all were in perfect harmony."

3. I have often thought of this story, as conveying an instructive lesson. The spirit that can thus sing patiently and sweetly in a world of discord, must indeed be of the strongest as well as the gentlest kind. One scarce can hear his own soft voice amid the braying of the multitude; and ever and anon comes the temptation to sing louder than they, and drown the voices that cannot thus be forced into perfect tune. But this were a pitiful experiment: the

lious tones, cracked into shrillness, would only increase the tumult.

4. Stronger, and more frequently, comes the temptation to stop singing, and let discord do its own wild work. But blessed are they that endure to the end,-singing patiently and sweetly, till all join in with loving acquiescence, and universal harmony prevails, without forcing into submission the free discord of a single voice.

5. This is the hardest and the bravest task which a true soul has to perform amid the clashing elements of time, But once has it been done perfectly, unto the end; and that Voice—so clear in its meekness—is heard above all the din of a tumultuous world: one after another chimes in with its patient sweetness; and, through infinite discords, the listening soul can perceive that the great tune is slowly coming into harmony.





BOU BEN ADHEM–(may his tribe increase!)

Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An Angel writing in a book of gold.


Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
“What writest thou ?” The vision raised its head,
And, with a voice made all of sweet accord,
Answered, “The names of those who love the Lord.”
“And is mine one?” said Abou, Nay, not so,"
Replied the Angel. ...

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Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one who loves his fellow-men."
The Angel wrote, and vanished. The next night,
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blest,
And, lo, Ben Adhem's name led all the rest !




E one day descried some shapeless object drifting

at a distance. At sea, everything that breaks the monotony of the surrounding expanse attracts attention. It proved to be the mast of a ship that must have been completely wrecked; for there were the remains of handkerchiefs, by which some of the crew had fastened themselves to this spar, to prevent their being washed off by the waves.

2. There was no trace by which the name of the ship could be ascertained. The wreck had evidently drifted about for many months; clusters of shell-fish had fastened about it, and long sea-weeds flaunted at its sides. But where, thought I, are the crew? Their struggle has long been over. They have gone down amidst the roar of the tempest. Their bones lie whitening among the caverns of the deep. Silence, oblivion, like the waves, have closed over them, and no one can tell the story of their end.

3. What sighs have been wafted after that ship! what prayers offered up at the deserted fireside of home! How often has the wife, the mother, pored over the daily news, to catch some casual intelligence of this rover of the deep! How has expectation darkened into anxiety, anxiety into dread, and dread into despair! Alas! not one memento shall ever return for love to cherish. All that shall ever be known is, that she sailed from her port, “ and was never heard of more!”

4. The sight of the wreck, as usual, gave rise to many dismal anecdotes. This was particularly the case in the ever when the weather, which had hitherto been fair, began to look wild and threatening, and gave indications of one of those sudden storms which will sometimes break in

upon the serenity of a summer voyage. 5. As we sat round the dull light of a lamp in the cabin, that made the gloom more ghastly, every one had his tale


of shipwreck and disaster. I was particularly struck with a short one related by the captain.

6. “ As I was once sailing,” said he, “in a fine stout ship across the banks of Newfoundland, one of those heavy fogs, which prevail in those parts, rendered it impossible for us to see far ahead even in the daytime; but at night the weather was so thick that we could not distinguish any object at twice the length of the ship.

7. “I kept lights at the mast-head, and a constant watch forward to look out for fishing-smacks, which are accustomed to lie at anchor on the banks. The wind was blowing a smacking breeze, and we were going at a great rate through the water. Suddenly the watch gave the alarm of ‘A sail ahead! It was scarcely uttered before we were

upon her.

8. “She was a small schooner, at anchor, with her broadside toward us. The crew were all asleep, and had neglected to hoist a light. We struck her just amidships.

a . The force, the size, and weight of our vessel bore her down below the waves. We passed over her, and were hurried

on our course.

9. “As the crashing wreck was sinking beneath us, I had a glimpse of two or three half-naked wretches rushing from her cabin. They just started from their beds to be swallowed shrieking by the waves. I heard their drowning cry mingling with the wind. The blast that bore it to our ears swept us out of all further hearing. I shall never forget that cry!

10. It was some time before we could put the ship about, she was under such headway. We returned, as nearly as we could guess, to the place where the smack had anchored. We cruised about for several hours in the dense fog. We fired several guns, and listened if we might hear the halloo of any survivors. But all was silent; we never saw nor heard anything of them more.”


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