THERE are, indeed, few gratifications more exquisite than those which we experience in being able to identify the scenes, and realize the descriptions, which have been long consecrated in the mind by genius and by virtue; which have supplied the fancy with its earliest images, and are connected with its most lasting associations. In such moments as these, we appear to be able suddenly to arrest the progress and lessen the devastations of time. We hardly contemplate with regret the ages that have passed in silence and oblivion; and we behold, for the first time, the fading and faint descriptions of languages, stamped with the fresh impressions of reality and truth.

REV. JOHN MITFORD.

WHAT man so wise, what earthly wit so ware,
As to descry the crafty cunning train,
By which DECEIT doth mask in visor fair,
And cast her colours died deep in grain

To seem like Truth, whose shape she well can fain,
And fitting gestures to her purpose frame,

The guiltless man with guile to entertain?

SPENSER.

WHERE there is yet shame, there may in time be

virtue.

JOHNSON.

THE SABBATH BELL.

PILGRIM, thou hast meekly borne
All the cold world's bitter scorn,
Journeying through this vale of tears,
Till the promised land appears,
Where the pure in heart shall dwell—
Thou dost bless the Sabbath bell!

Idler, following fashion's toys,
Seeking, 'mid its empty joys,
Pleasure that must end in pain,
Sunshine that will turn to rain;
What does whisp'ring conscience tell,
When thou hear'st the Sabbath bell?

Poet, dreaming o'er thy lyre,
Wasting health and youthful fire ;
Wooing still the phantom Fame,
For, at best, a fleeting name;
Burst the chains of Fancy's spell,-
Listen!-'tis the Sabbath bell!

Monarch, on thy regal throne;
Ruler, whom the nations own;
Captive, at thy prison grate,
Sad in heart, and desolate;

Bid earth's minor cares farewell

Hark! it is the Sabbath bell!

Statesman, toiling in the mart,
Where ambition plays his part;
Peasant, bronzing 'neath the sun,
Till thy six days' work is done;
Every thought of business quell,
When ye hear the Sabbath bell!

Maiden, with thy brow so fair, Blushing cheek, and shining hair; Child, with bright and laughing eye, Chasing the wing'd butterfly; Hasten, when o'er vale and dell Sounds the gath'ring Sabbath bell!

Trav'ller, thou whom gain or taste
Speedeth through earth's weary waste;
Wand'rer from thy native land,
Rest thy steed, and slack thy hand,
When the seventh day's sun-beams tell
There they wake the Sabbath bell!

Soldier, who, on battle plain,
Soon mayst mingle with the slain ;
Sailor, on the dark blue sea,
As thy bark rides gallantly,

Prayer and praise become ye well,
Though ye hear no Sabbath bell!

Mother, that, with tearful eye,
Stand'st to watch thy first-born die,

Bending o'er his cradle bed,
Till the last pure breath has fled,
What to thee of hope can tell,
Like the solemn Sabbath bell?

"thus it seems to say,

66 Mourner,"

"Weeping o'er this fragile clay,
Lift from earth thy streaming eyes,
Seek thy treasure in the skies,
Where the strains of angels swell,
One eternal Sabbath bell!"

THE religious man fears, the man of honour scorns to do an ill action. The latter considers vice as something beneath him; the other, as something that is offensive to the Divine Being; the one, as what is unbecoming; the other, as what is forbidden.

ADDISON.

OH! there are looks and tones that dart
An instant sunshine through the heart;
As if the soul that minute caught

Some treasure it through life had sought;

As if the very lips and eyes,

Predestined to have all our sighs,

And never be forgot again,

Sparkled and spoke before us then!

MOORE.

SWEET Mercy's healing balm

Is the extraction of brave spirits, which,
By innate valour rarefied, enrich

With that fair gem the triumphs of success,
Whilst cowards make the victors' glory less;
Their highest flame of rage being but dull earth, *
Fir'd into tyranny.

CHAMBERLAYNE.

No torture has yet been invented so cruel, as would be the obligation of reading every morning, the record of all which we may have said during the preceding day; except, perhaps, to have our thoughts, during that period, brought before us in the same visible form.

SWIFT favours charm; but when too long they stay, They lose the name of kindness by delay.

NOTHING awakes our sleeping virtues like the noble acts of our predecessors. They are standing beacons that fame and time have set on hills, to call us to a defence of virtue, whensoever vice invades the common wealth of man.

FELTHAM.