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SERENITY.

66

A military officer being at sea, in a dreadful storm, his lady, who was sitting near him, and filled with alarm for the safety of the vessel, was so surprised at his composure and serenity, that she cried out, My dear, are you not afraid? How is it possible you can be so calm in such a storm ?" He arose from a chair lashed to the deck, and supporting himself by a pillar of a bedplace, he drew his sword and pointing it to the breast of his wife, he exclaimed, "Are you not afraid?" She instantly replied, "No, certainly not." "Why?" said the officer." Because," rejoined his lady, "I know the sword is in the hand of my husband, and he loves me too well to hurt me." "Then (said he) remember I know in whom I have believed, and that He holds the winds in his fist, and the waters in the hollow of his hand. "

THE INFIDEL.

It is an awful commentary on the doctrine of infideli. ty, that its most strenuous supporters have either miserably falsified their sentiments in the moment of trial, or terminated their existence in obscurity and utter wretchedness. The gifted author of the "Age of Reason," passed the last years of his life in a manner which the meanest slave that ever trembled beneath the lash of the task-master, could have no cause to envy. Rosseau might indeed be pointed out, as in some degree an exception-but it is well known, that the enthusiastic philosopher was a miserable and disappointed man. He met death, it is true, with something like calmness, but he had no pure and beautiful hope beyond the perishing things of the natural world. He loved the works of God for their exceeding beauty-not for their manifestation of an overruling intelligence. Life had become a burthen to him, but his spirit recoiled at the dampness and silence of the sepulchre-the cold, unbroken sleep, and the slow wasting away of mortality. He perished, a worshipper of that beauty which but faintly shadows At the forth the unimaginable glory of its Creator.

closing hour of day—when the broad West was glowing like the gates of Paradise, and the vine-hung hills of his beautiful land were bathed in the rich light of sunset, the philosopher departed. The last glance of his glazing eye, was to him an everlasting farewell to existence the last homage of a godlike intellect to holiness and beauty. The blackness of darkness was before him-the valley of the shadow of death was to him unescapable and eternal-the better land beyond it was shrouded from his vision.

FIVE REASONS FOR NOT USING SPIRITUOUS LIQUORS.

1. Because it poisons the blood and destroys the organs of digestion. 2. Because an enemy should be kept without the gate. 3. Because I am in health and need no medicine. 4. Because I have my senses and wish to keep them. 5. Because I have a soul to be saved or lost. To the man whose mind is untouched by all or any of the above reasons, a volume on the subject would be useless. He is unfitted for society; and the sooner he is in his grave the better-better for society and for himself For society-because of his exampleFor himself-because his future torment will be less.

NOTICES OF RECENT PUBLICATIONS.

REVIEW.

Addresses on the Beatitudes; By Mrs. Cameron. 18mo., pp. 72. 75 cents per doz.: 8 cents each.

THE first thought which arose in our mind upon a cursory glance at the pages of this excellent little book, was, Here, at last, is some solid substantial food for the youthful mind, amid the piles of light, enticing viand and empty trash which are daily offered! It is really of a different cast from the popular productions of the day, and therefore we are not surprised that it should not give universal satisfaction Those who can relish nought but 'tales,' or amusing narratives, (often novels in disguise,) may think these simple and impressive lectures dry, and alarm themselves with the anticipation that 'it will be difficult to get children to read them.' But there is too deep knowledge of human nature, too intimate ac

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 adults.

POETRY.

ON THE SUMMIT OF AN EGYPTIAN PYRAMID.

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 colours, 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.

O 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 wisdom 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-germs sink within the ground,
Where are the warblers of the sky?
I ask--and augry 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.

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