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quaintance with the habits and mental associations, and feelings of children; and above all, too pure, religious truth, in this book, to leave it devoid either of interest or effect. We do not doubt-we regret that it should be so; but we do not doubt that the taste which is being formed in the youthful mind, for what may emphatically be called dainty reading, will bar these valuable addresses from access to the perusal, and from influence upon the hearts of very many; but we still hope, nay, we feel confident, that they will be the means of stimulating and guiding many children in the successful pursuit of those divine beatitudes, whose value and the way to whose attainment they do most faithfully and intelligibly exhibit and commend.

Maternal Instructions : or History of Mrs. Murray and her Children.

18mo. pp. 180. This little volume contains more instructive matter than is often to be met with in a single book designed for the use of children. It is an account of the manner, in which Mrs. Murray, a prudent, judicious, and pious mother, proceeded in the education of her children, whose minds she endeavoured to imbue with sentiments of piety and benevolence, both by her instructions, and her example. The narrative is given in a plain and simple style, and with the exception of a few passages, in which allusion is made to natural scenery, or something else, peculiar to Scotland, where the author resided, may be understood by many of even the youngest Sabbath school children; and if read with care, cannot fail to increase their knowledge and improve their minds and hearts. ,

The Orphan Boy. By Mrs. Sherwood. 18mo. pp. 16. The truth that though all have not silver and gold, yet that few are destitute of talents of some kind or other which may be profitably employed in serving God, and promoting the welfare of our fellow men, is most happily illustrated in the story of a little orphan, who, provided with temporal goods by others of the villagers, was faithfully instructed and well furnished with the bread which endureth, divine truth, by an aged and pious widow, whose penury alone prevented her providing him with food and raiment. Many useful lessons are taught throughout the book, and pointed out in the addition.

A Dictionary of important names, objects, and terms found in the Holy Scriptures. By Rev. Howard Malcom. 1 vol. 18mo. 1830.

There are few books, if any, in existence, so well calculated as this to inspire the young with a taste for reading the Scriptures. The child, in reading the Bible, meets with many words and allusions to ancient customs which it is impossible for him to understand, and which considerably lessen the pleasure he would otherwise take in this exercise. By referring to this book he finds all

necessary explanations, and by its assistance gains a far greater knowledge of the Bible, and consequent love for it, than he possibly could do by reading six times the amount of matter with these difficulties unexplained. It is of convenient price and size, and though particularly useful to children will be found a valuable acquisition to adulte.

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THRON'D on the sepulchre of mighty Kings,

Whose dust in solemn silence sleeps below,
Till that great day, when sublunary things

Shall pass away ev'n as the April bow
Fades from the gazer's eye, and leaves no trace
Of its bright colors, or its former place,

I gaze in sadness o'er the scenery wild,

On scatter'd groups of palms, and seas of sand,
On the wide desert, and the desert's child, -

On ruins made by time's destructive hand,
On temples, towers and columns laid in dust,
A land of crime, of tyranny, and lust.

0 Egypt! Egypt! how 'art thou debased !-

A Moslem slave upon Busiris' throne;
And all thy splendid monuments defac'd!

Long, long beneath his iron rod shall groan
Thy hapless children; thou hast had thy day,
And all thy glories now have pass'd away.

O! could thy princely dead rise from their graves,

And view with me the changes Time has wrought
A land of ruins, and a race of slaves,

Where wisdóm flourish'd and where sages taught,-
A scene of desolation, mental night!
How would they shrink with horror from the sight!

Ancient of days! nurse of fair science, arts!

All that refines and elevates mankind !
Where are thy palaces, and where thy marts,

Thy glorious cities, and thy men of mind ?
For ever gone!--the very names they bore,
The sites they occupied, are now no more,

But why lament, since such must ever be

The fate of human greatness, human pride? Ev'n those who mourn the loudest over thee,

Are drifting headlong down the rapid tide That sweeps, resistless, to the yawning grave, All that is great and good, or wise and brave.

Ev'n thou, proud fabric! whence I now survey

Scenes so afflicting to the feeling heart, Maugre thy giant strength, must sink, the prey

Of hoary age, and all thy fame depart; In vain thy head, aspiring scales the sky, Prostrate in dust that lofty head must lie.

The soul alone (the precious boon of Heaven)

Can fearless brave of time and fate the rage, When to thy deep foundations thou art riven,

Yea, Egypt! blotted from the historic page, She shall survive, shall ever, ever bloom, In radiant youth triumphant o'er the tomb.

FIRST MORNING OF SPRING. Break from your chains ye lingering streams, Rise, blossoms, from your wintry dreams, Drear fields, your robes of verdure take, Birds, from your trance of silence wake, Glad trees, resume your leafy crown, Shrubs, o'er the mirror-brooks bend down, Bland zephyrs, wheresoe'er you stray, The Spring doth call you,-haste away.

Thou too, my Soul, with quicken'd force
Pursue thy brief, thy measur'd course.
With grateful zeal each power employ,
Catch vigor from Creation's joy,
Stamp love to God, and love to man,
More deeply on thy shortening span,
And still with added patience bear
Thy crown of thorns, thy lot of care.
-But Spring with tardy step appears,
Chill is her eye, and dim with tears,
Fast are the founts in fetters bound,
The flower-gems sink within the ground,
Where are the warblers of the sky?
I ask—and angry blasts reply.

It is not thus in heavenly bowers,
Nor ice-bound rill, nor drooping flowers,
Nor silent harp, nor folded wing,
Invade that everlasting Spring,
Toward which we turn with wishful tear,
While pilgrims in this wintry sphere.

Hartford, March 1, 1830.

TIME'S COLD HAND. Here are visions to shine in the eye of the youth,

That appear as they ne'er will be faded; Here are hopes that will beam with the splendor of truth,

But soon will that splendor be shaded; For tears on those hopes and those visions must fall; Time's cold hand will touch them and wither them all. Here are perfumes to steal on the senses of wealth,

And wrap them in heavenly slumbers; Here's a harp whose soft notes will flow by as in stealth,

And call up sweet dreams with its numbers;
Yet tears on that harp and those perfumes must fall;
Time's cold hand will touch them and wither them all.
Here is Fancy, the poet to crown with its bays,

And from heav'n fire ethereal to borrow;
Here is Feeling with mildness to hallow his days,

And steal a few pangs from pale sorrow;
But tears upon feeling and fancy must fall;
Time's cold hand will touch them and wither them all

w his days,

The clouds were dispersed, and the tempest was o’er,

The crimson of evening illumined the sky,
And the soft heaving waves as they rippled ashore,

Gleamed bright with the tint of its magical dye.
The swallows were sweeping the fields of the air,

The blackbird sung forth from its leafy retreat, And the flowers, renewed in their bloom, smiled as fair,

As the long promised land at the Israelites' feet. Beside me the roses and lilies were spread,

The pink and carnation of delicate vest, The columbine lifted the pride of its head,

And the dial of the sunflower was turned to the west. The butterfly wantoned on wings of delight,

While the bee on her errand of industry bent, Was rifling the blooms, at the fall of the night,

Fora noonday of tempest in idleness spent. To the main, to the mountains, with love-blooming eye,

Rejoicing I turned, and their looks were as calm, As the beautiful arch of that deep azure sky,

Whose aspect was holy, whose zephyr was balm. Oh! thus, ere the days of this pilgrimage cease,

May the sunset of life be as placid and rnild, The storms of Adversity stilled into peace, · All passion becalmed, and all sorrow exiled!

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