pious fair too, who in their sphere of benevolence resemble angels of mercy, will not in their "walks of usefulness" forget the cottage of the poor. The cottage scene will often afford to the benevolent mind a happiness far superior to a visit in the halls of a palace. I love to recur, in my lonely meditations, to the "lodge in the wilderness," and I would rather visit the solitary grave of this departed saint (for she now sleeps beneath the shade of the adjacent forest,) and read her rudely sculptured name, than to gaze upon " the storied urn and animated bust" of the proudest hero. TWILIGHT. "Of all the myriad sources of enjoyment which nature unfolds to man, I know few equal to those elicited by a balmy summer sunset. The idea is old, but the reflections it excites are perpetually varying. There is something in this hour, so tender, so holy, so fraught with simple, yet sublime associations, that it belongs rather to heaven than to earth. The curtain that drops down on the physical, also descends on the moral world. The day, with its selfish interests, its common-place distractions, has gone by, and the season of intelligence -of imagination, of spirituality is dawning. Yes, twilight unlocks the Blandusian fountain of fancy: there, as in a mirror, reflecting all things in added loveliness, the heart surveys the past, the dead, the absent, the estranged, come thronging back on memory; the Paradise of inexperience, from which the flaming sword of Truth has long since exiled us, rises again in all the pristine beauty of its flowers and verdure; the very spot where we breathed our first vows of love; the slender, girlish figure, that gliding like a sylph beside us, listened entranced to that avowal, made in the face of heaven, beneath the listening evening star; the home that witnessed her decline; the church-yard that received her ashes; the grave wherein she now sleeps, dreamless and happy, deaf alike to the syren voice of praise, and the withering sneers of envy-such sweet but solemn recollections sweep, in shadowy pomp, across the mind, conjured up by the spells of twilight, as he waves his enchanted wand over the earth." THE HEAD AND HEART.-The heart of a man is older than his head. The first-born is sensitive, but blindhis younger brother has a cold, but all-comprehensive glance. The blind must consent to be led by the clear sighted if he would avoid falling. POETRY. (COMMUNICATED BY REV. JOSEPH RUSLING.) DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. Is there bliss to be found in these regions below, Where the mind dwells remote from ambition's extreme, No honors they court from the lords of mankind, A frugal and competent cheer; No profusion of glittering wealth do they crave, There's a richness of virtue ennobles their hearts, And charms that with innocence blend; The demon of ill from the circle is driven, Free, unrestrain'd friendship by all is express'd, The parents direct with affectionate sway, And guide their love'd charge with the mildest display A circle of pleasure and love. When the sweet breathing morn lights its earliest ray, And then, with an ardor which Heaven doth inspire, Where pure, unaffected simplicity's found, In the castle or cot, on the mountain or plain, LOOK ALOFT. I do not remember any thing which has produced so pleasing an impression on my mind, as the little story which is said to have been told by the late Dr. Codman to his friends, of the boy who was about to fall from the rigging, and was saved only by the mate's impressive exclamation.-"Look aloft, you lubber." The story and the application were somewhat in the style of Dr. Franklin, and would not have been unworthy of his fame. The following verses cannot claim the merit of the slightest originality, but their insertion will amply reward the author, if they recall the anecdote which prompted them, or enforce its beautiful morality. In the tempest of life, when the wave and the gale If the friend, who embraced in prosperity's glow, Should the visions which hope spreads in light to thine eye, Should they who are dearest, the son of thy heart- And oh when death comes, in terrors to cast 1 |