are safe.

(To be continued.)

'HERE by this brook, we parted; I to the East
And he for Italy-too late-too late;
One whom the strong sons of the world despise;
For lucky rhymes to him were scrip and share,
And mellow metres more than cent for cent;
Nor could he understand how money breeds,
Thought it a dead thing; yet himself could make
The thing that is not as the thing that is.
O had he lived! In our school-books we say,
Of those that held their heads above the crowd,
They flourish'd then or then; but life in him
Could scarce be said to flourish, only touch'd
On such a time as goes before the leaf,
When all the wood stands in a mist of green,
And nothing perfect: yet the brook he loved,
For which, in branding summers of Bengal,
Or ev'n the sweet half- English Neilgherry air,
1 chanted, seems, as I re-listen to it,
Prattling the primrose fancies of the boy,

To me that loved him; for "O brook!" he says, "O babbling brook," says Edmund in his rhyme, "Whence come you?" and the brook, why not? replies.

I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally

And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.

By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges.
By twenty thorps, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.

Till last by Philip's farm I flow

To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

'Poor lad, he died at Florence, quite worn out,
Travelling to Naples There is Darnley bridge,
It has more ivy; there the river; and there
Stands Philip's farm where brock and river

meet.

I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,

I babble on the peebles.

With many a curve my banks I fret
By many a field and fallow,

And many a fairy foreland set
With willow. weed and mallow.

I hatter, chatter, as I flow

To join the brimming river,

For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.

'But Philip chatter'd more than brook or bird;

Old Philip; all about the fields you canght
His weary daylong chirping, like the dry
High elbowed grigs that leap in sunimer grass.

I wind about, and in and out, With here a blossom sailing, And here and there a lusty trout, And here and there a grayling,

And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel,
With many a silvery waterbreak
Above the golden gravel,

And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,

But I go on for ever.

'O darling Katie Willows, his one child!
A maiden of our century, yet most meek;
A daughter of our meadows, yet not coarse;
Straight, but as lissome as a hazel wand;
Her eyes a bashful azure, and her hair
In gloss and hue the chestnut, when the shell
Divides threefold to show the fruit within.

'Sweet Katie, once I did her a good turn, Her and her far-off cousin and betrothed, James Willows, of one name and heart with her. For here I came, twenty years back-the week Before I parted with poor Edmund; crost By that old bridge which, half in ruins then, Still makes a hoary eyebrow for the gleam Beyond it, where the waters marry-crost, Whistling a random bar of Bonny Doon, And push'd at Philip's garden-gate The gate, Half parted from a weak and scolding hinge, Stuck; and he clamour'd from a casement, ** run,"

To Katie somewhere in the walks below,
"Run Katie !" Katie never ran: she moved
To meet me, winding under woodbine bowers

A little flutter'd, with her eyelids down,
Fresh apple-blossom, blushing for a boon.

'What was it? less of sentiment than sense Had Katie; not illiterate; neither one Who dabbling in the fount of fictive tears, And nursed by mealy-mouthed philanthropies, Divorce the Feeling from her mate the Deed.

'She told me. She and James had quarrell'a. Why?

What cause of quarrel? None, she said, no

cause;

James had no cause: but when I prest the cause,
I learnt that James had flickering jealousies
Which anger'd her. Who anger'd James?
said

But Katie snatch'd her eyes at once from mine,
And sketching with her slender pointed foot
Some figure like a wizard's pentagarm
On garden gravel, let my query pass
Unclaim'd, in flushing silence, till I ask'd
If James were coming. "Coming every day,"
She answer'd, "ever longing to explain,
But evermore her father came across

With some long-winded tale, and broke him short;

And James departed vext with him and her." How could I help her? "Would I- was it wrong ?"

(Claspt hands and that petitionary grace

Of sweet seventeen subdued me ere she spoke)
"O would I take her father for one hour,
For one half-hour, and let him talk to me!"
And even while she spoke, I saw where James
Made toward us, like a wader in the surf,
Beyond the brook, waist-deep in meadow-sweet,

'O Katie, what I suffered for your sake! For in I went and call'd old Philip out To show the farm: full willingly he rose ; He led me thro' the short sweet-smelling lanes Of his wheat-suburb, babbling as he went. He praised his land, his horses, his machines; He praised his ploughs, his cows, his hogs, his dogs;

He praised his hens, his geese, his guinea-hens; His pigeons, who in session on their roofs Approved him, bowing at their own deserts; Then from the plaintive mother's teat he took Her blind and shuddering puppies, naming each, And naming those, his friends, for whom they

were:

Then crost the common into Darnley chase
To show Sir Arthur's deer. In copse and fern
Twinkled the innumerable ear and tail.
Then, seated on a serpent-rooted beech,
He pointed out a pasturing colt, and said:
'That was the four-year-old I sold the Squire.'
And there he told a long long-winded tale
Of how the Squire had seen tue colt at grass,
And how it was the thing his daughter wish'd,
And how he sent the bailiff to the farm

To learn the price, and what the price he ask'd,
And how the bailiff swore that he was mad,
But he stood firm; and so the matter hung;
He gave them line: and five days after that
lie met the bailiff at the Golden Fleece,
Who then and there had offer'd something more,
But he stood firm; and so the matter hung;
He knew the man; the colt would fetch its price;
He gave them line: and how by chance at last
(It might be May or April, he forgot,
The last of April or the first of May)
He found the bailiff riding by the farm,
And, talking from the point, he drew him in,
And there he mellow'd all his heart with ale,
Until they closed a bargain, hand in hand.

Then while I breathed in sight of haven, he, Poor fellow, could he help it? recommenced, And ran thro' all the coltish chronicle,

I steal by lawns and grassy plots, I slide by hazel covers;

I move the sweet forget-me-nots That grow for happy lovers.

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, Among my skimming swallows; I make the netted sunbeam dance Against my sandy shallows.

I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;

I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses;

And out again I curve and flow

To join the brimming river,

For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.

Yes, men may come and go; and these are gone,
All gone. My dearest brother, Edmund, sleeps,
Not by the well-known stream and rustic spire,
But unfamiliar Arno, and the dome

Of Brunelleschi; sleeps in peace: and he,
Poor Philip, of all his lavish waste of words
Remains the lean P. W. on his tomb :
I scraped the lichen from it: Katie walks
By the long wash of Australasian seas
Far off, and holds her head to other stars,
And breathes in converse seasons. All are gone.'

So Lawrence Aylmer, seated on a style In the long hedge, and rolling in his mind Old waifs of rhyme, and bowing o'er the brook A tonsured head in middle age forlorn, Mused, and was mute. On a sudden a low breath Of tender air made tremble in the hedge The fragile bindweed-bells and briony rings; And he look'd up. There stood a maiden near, Waiting to pass. In much amaze he stared On eyes a bashful azure, and on hair In gloss and hue the chestnut, when the shell Divides threefold to show the fruit within: Then wondering, ask'd her 'Are you from the farm?'

'Yes,' answered she. 'Pray stay a little: pardon

me;

What do they call you?' 'Katie.' That were strange.

What surname?' Willows.' 'No!' That is my name.'

'Indeed!" and here he look'd so self-perplext, That Katie laughed, and laughing blush'd, till he Laugh'd also, but as one before he wakes, Who feels a glimmering strangeness in his dream. Then looking at her; Too happy, fresh and fair,

Too fresh and fair in our sad world's best bloom, To be the ghost of one who bore your name About these meadows, twenty years ago.'

Have you not heard,' said Katie, we came back.

We bought the farm we tenanted before.

Am I so like her? so they said on board.
Sir, if you knew her in her English days,
My mother, as it seems you did, the days
That most she loves to talk of, come with me.
My brother James is in the harvest-field:
But she-you will be welcome-O, come in!'
TENNYSON.

an account is given of the progress of a Savings Bank in Glasgow. As that establishment has now been in existence for three years, it may be well to state the results for that period:

15,017

is . The average of each deposit during the first year being 94d.; during the second year, Is. 43d.; and during the third year, 1s. 31d. Although the past year has been one in which many an industrious family has submitted to great privations from the high prices of provisions, and though sickness has prevailed to a great extent, yet the receipts at the bank have not been diminished in a greater degree than might have been expected. Here then is a sum of £739, which has been deposited in very small sums from a penny to a pound, and we have little doubt that, had it not been for the facilities afforded by the bank for depositing it, by far the greater part of this money would have been spent at least uselessly and unprofitably. Since our last notice, many additional

we rejoice that it is so. As nothing here can be said to be perfect, there was a danger heretofore connected with these very admirable institutions, and that was their being extended so far as to get into the hands of parties who might have been less scrupulous than they ought about the honesty of their dealings; accordingly, government has been making inquiries in regard to savings' banks, and the result has been the ap. pointment, in almost all cases, of a body of trustees, who have taken upon themselves the responsibility of seeing that the money deposited is quite safe, and that it will be repaid when required, in place of the irresponsible body of patrons and managers formerly appointed, so that now the depositors may at any time Bank. When they are thus based on a satisfy themselves of the security of the true and solid foundation, as they now must be by law, too much cannot be said in praise of these most excellent institutions; they not only afford the means of collecting and accumulating small savings, so that they may become available at a time when any emergency occurs in a poor man's family, such as the head of the family being thrown out of employment, or, when "there is trouble in the house;" but they also foster and encourage habits of saving, and stir up that noble independence which a man feels, when, in the hour of adversity, he finds that he has something to assist him which is the result of his own forethought and care, realizing the truth of that saying, that "he is a happy man who has a friend in his need, but he is more truly happy who has no such need of his friend." Afflictions will come sooner or later, and it would be well that the

poor man, while suffering patiently under his Father's rod, could look up to his God, and thank Him, that, amid an infinite number of other mercies, He has shown His love to him in thus opening up a way by which his sufferings may be relieved.

We would advise all who have the interests of the working men at heart, among other means for improving their condition, to encourage the establishment of Savings' Banks; if the depositors can be got to take the management into their own hands, so much the better; they will take care to see that the money is safe. Let all be encouraged to put in their savings, however small, not leaving out those who can only begin with a penny. This, by the way, puts us in mind of a

story, connected with one of these banks, which afforded us some amusement at the time. A very respectable looking woman came to deposit a penny for each of her sons, of whom she had seven; accordingly she entered the names of John, James, David, Andrew, Thomas, and Robert, but, when reminded that she had only given in six names, she said she could not understand how that could be, for she had "seven laddies." She mentioned all their names a second time, but still she could make no more of them ;away she went, very much perplexed, but soon returning, she exclaimed, "noo ye see I was richt enough after a', but only Willy, poor child, was just clean forgot!"

-----

GLASGOW SCUTARI MISSION.

A communion cup has been sent, at the request of the brethren, to enable them to dispense the sacrament to those who desire to partake of the holy ordinance; and to many soldiers we hope and pray it may be fruitful in eucharistic thanksgivings for God's mercy to them, in delivering them from death, and in offering them eternal life through Him who was wounded for their transgressions, and endured the cross for their redemption.

The cup sent to Scutari was a gift from members of Mr. Macnair's late congregation in Gourock, which, as a token of love, adds to its value.

Several donations of books, both from the committee, congregations, and private parties, have from time to time been sent to the mission. The Secretary has written Mr. Fergusson to inquire about the fate of those packages, and he hopes

many have been lost. But whether they are irrecoverably lost, or only concealed in mountains of baggage in the Custom House at Constantinople or Balaklava

remains to be seen.

Extract from Mr. Fergusson's Journal.

March 1st.-Visited in General Hos

pital. Great excitement about the earthquake which occurred yesterday. Almost all were out of their beds, some so weak that they could not get into bed again unaided. Many tried to walk who were unable to do so.

One man told me

he never felt himself so utterly unworthy before. He felt that he deserved to be literally swallowed up, and he feared he was to have got his desert. The Mormonite, noticed Feb. 10, is now under deep convictions, and praying most fervently to be guided into the truth. It was most painful to witness the agony of his soul. I read to him a small tract, entitled "The Compassion of God," and when I had finished it he asked if I could assure him that what I had read was the truth. I said that I rested my own eternal destiny upon it, which was the highest proof I could give of my thorough conviction of the truthfulness of the doctrine of the Bible. He then said, "You know what my views have been," and requested me to pray with him, stating, in the most particular manner, what he wished me specially to pray for, which was that whatever error he might blindly have followed might be completely eradicated from his mind, and that the truth of God might be savingly impressed upon his soul. After I had kneeled at his bedside, he detained my proceeding until I had shewn him that I clearly comprehended his meaning. When I had done he was much excited, and burying his head in his bedclothes he groaned in agony of spirit. I stood for a little while unwilling to disturb him, when, as if unconscious of my presence, he prayed long and fervently. When he had done he was so much exhausted that he scarcely had strength to say good-bye.

March 2d.-An arrival of fresh invalids from the Crimea has made a large addition to my list. One desired to see me whenever he heard I was in the hospital. He requested me to visit him as often as I could. S. F., mentioned 26th Feb., died this morning; I hope, in the Lord.

March 3d.-Death is steadily doing his work. My Mormonite friend is gone today; he was very low yesterday. When I inquired whether he could look up to God as his Father in Christ, he simply shook his head. A young man, appar ently on the very brink of the grave, told me that he had never been a great sinner, he had never been a drunkard, nor —. Here he stopped, finding it hard to specify. Many console themselves with the thought that they have not sinned much, since they have not been addicted to intemperate habits. One of those who came in yesterday seems under convictions of sin. Another, whom I have seen daily for some time, and who is, I fear, dying, says, "No, no! I have no hope but in Christ Jesus."

March 4th.-Sunday- Preached in Boniface House and Sultan's quarters,

and visited special cases in General Hospital. One man, who formerly appeared wiser than myself in matters of religion, asked me to read to him "something about our Saviour." There are several hopeful cases, but very many are cold and dead.

March 5th.-Visited the whole of General Hospital. One of my people died this morning. Some have returned to the camp. Several very interesting cases among 93d Highlanders.

March 6th.-At Pera, in search of a servant; a day nearly lost. Visited only five men in the afternoon. The gratitude of all, but of one in particular, was very great, and would have been a reward for almost any toil.

March 7th.-The Stable, General, and Harem Hospitals. Wrote three letters at the bedsides of the men. Received a most cordial welcome at the Harem from all, even from Romanists. A loud cry for Bibles, which I promised to get supplied. Found a Romanist reading the New Testament; he said he did not care for the priest, and requested some tracts. Added nine to my roll. The Episcopalians in one ward asked me to speak to them as if they were my own people. I addressed the whole ward at once. They hoped I would give them a call when I go back.

March 8th.-Palace and General Hospitals. The welcome we receive from some is truly touching. Many of my people have gone to England. One died yesterday, and some are very ill. Large arrival of sick from the camp. I find the field allotted to me much too large to do the work efficiently.

March 9th.-Made up a parcel of Bibles and books for the Harem Hospital, which, to my regret and annoyance, I could get no one to carry over. Visited in General Hospital; nothing remarkable occurred. The men are recovering very slowly, and some who were moving about have been taken very ill.

March 10th.-Three more of my people have gone the way of all the earth, and there are others apparently about to follow. Made the acquaintance of a young man of the Irish Presbyterian Church; a most interesting case. He detailed to me the history of his enlistment, which gave me a practical illustration of the necessity of the apostolic injunction, "Fathers, provoke not your children to wrath, lest they be discouraged." Took my servant to the Harem in the evening with a bag full of Bibles, Testaments, and other books and tracts. Gave intimation of a public service there to-morrow at 11 A.M. The