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Evening and morn hast thou watch'd the bee
Go forth on her errands of industry?

The bee for herself hath gather'd and toil'd,
But the mother's cares are all for her child.

Hast thou gone with the traveller Thought afar,
From pole to pole, and from star to star?
Thou hast-but on ocean, earth or sea,
The heart of a mother has gone with thee.
There is not a grand inspiring thought,
There is not a truth by wisdom taught,
There is not a feeling pure and high,
That may not be read in a mother's eye.
And ever since earth began, that look
Hath been to the wise an open book,
To win them back from the love they prize,
To the holier love that edifies.

There are teachings on earth, and sky, and air,
The Heavens the glory of God declare!
But more loud than the voice beneath-above,
He is heard to speak through a mother's love!
Emily Taylor.

WHEN gathering clouds around I view,
And days are dark and friends are few,
On Him I lean, who not in vain,
Experienced every human pain.
He sees my griefs, allays my fears,
And counts and treasures up my tears.
If aught should tempt my soul to stray
From heavenly wisdom's narrow way;
To fly the good I would pursue,
Or do the thing I would not do;
Still He who felt temptation's power,
Shall guard me in that dangerous hour.
If wounded love my bosom swell,
Despised by those I prized too well:
He shall his pitying aid bestow,
Who felt on earth severer woe:
At once betray'd, denied, or fled,
By those who shared His daily bread.

When vexing thoughts within me rise,
And, sore dismay'd, my spirit dies :
Yet He who once vouchsafed to hear
The sick'ning anguish of despair,
Shall sweetly soothe, shall gently dry,
The throbbing heart, the streaming eye.

When mourning o'er some stone I bend,
That covers all that was a friend:
And from his voice, his hand, his smile,
Divides me for a little while;

Thou, Saviour, mark'st the tears I shed,
For Thou did'st weep o'er Laz'rus dead.
And oh when I have safely past,
Through every conflict but the last;
Still, still, unchanging, watch beside
My painful bed,--for Thou hast died;
Then point to realms of cloudless day,
And wipe the latest tear away.-Sir R. Grant.

WHO LOVES ME BEST?

WHO loves me best ?-my mother sweet,
Whose every look with love's replete ;
Who held me an infant on her knee,-
Who hath ever watched me tenderly;
And yet I have heard my mother say,
That she sometime must pass away:
Who then shall shield me from earthly ill?
Some one must love me better still!

Who loves me best ?-my father dear,
Who loveth to have me always near:
He whom I fly each eve to meet,
When pass'd away is the noontide heat.

Who from the bank where the sunbeam lies,
Brings me the wild wood-strawberries.
Oh! he is dear as my mother to me,—
But he will perish, even as she.

Who loves me best ?-the gentle dove
That I have tamed with my childish love,
That every one save myself doth fear,

Whose soft coo soundeth when I come near;

Yet perhaps it loves me because I bring
To its cage the drops from the clearest spring,
And hang green branches around the door;
Something surely must love me more!
Who loves me best ?-my sister fair,
With her laughing eyes and clustering hair!
Who flowers around my head doth twine,
Who presseth her rosy lips to mine,
Who singeth me songs in her artless glee,
Can any love me better than she?
Yet, when I ask'd, that sister confess'd,
Of all, she did not love me best.

Who loves me best ?-my brother young,
With his healthy cheek and his lisping tongue;
Who delighteth to lead me in merry play
Far down the green-wood's bushy way;
Who showeth me where the hazel-nuts grow,
And where the fairest field-flowers blow;
Yet perhaps he loves me no more than the rest,—
How shall I find who loves me best?

My mother loves me,-but she may die;
My white dove loves me, but that may fly;
My father loves me,-he may be changed;
I have heard of brothers and sisters estranged;
If they should forsake me what should I do?
Where should I bear my sad heart to?
Some one surely would be my stay,-
Some one must love me better than they.
Yes, fair child, there is one above,
Who loves thee with an unchangeable love;
He who form'd those frail, dear things,
To which thy young heart fondly clings,
Even though all should forsake thee, still
He would protect thee through every ill,
O is not such love worth all the rest?
Child! it is God who loves thee best!

Mary Ann Brown.

A QUAINT SERMON.

MR. DODD was a minister who lived many years ago, a few miles from Cambridge; and having several times been preaching against drunkenness, some of the Cambridge scholars,

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(conscience, which is sharper than ten thousand witnesses, being their monitor) were very much offended, and thought he made reflections on them. Some little time after, Mr. Dodd was walking towards Cambridge, and met some of the gownsmen, who, as soon as they saw him at a distance, resolved to make some ridicule of him. As soon as he came up, they accosted him with "Your servant, sir!" He replied, "Your servant, gentlemen." They asked him if he had not been preaching very much against drunkenness of late? He answered in the affirmative. They then told him they had a favour to beg of him, and it was that he would preach a sermon to them there, from a text they should choose. He argued that it was an imposition, for a man ought to have some consideration before preaching. They said they would not put up with a denial, and insisted on his preaching immediately (in a hollow tree which stood by the road-side) from the word Malt. He then began, Beloved, let me crave your attention. I am a little man-come at a short notice-to preach a short sermon-from a short text-to a thin congregation-in an unworthy pulpit. Beloved, my text is Malt. I cannot divide it into sentences, there being none; nor into words, there being but one; I must therefore, of necessity, divide it into letters, which I find in my text to be these four -M, A, L, T. M is moral. A is allegorical. L is literal. T is theological. The moral is to teach you, rustics, good manners therefore M, my masters, A, all of you, L, leave off, T, tippling. The allegorical is when one thing is spoken of, and another meant. The thing spoken of is Malt. The thing meant is the spirit of Malt which you rustics make M, your meat, A, your apparel, L, your liberty, and T, your trust. The literal is according to the letters. M, much, A, ale, L, little, T, trust. The theological is according to the effects it works, in some, M, murder, in others, A, adultery, in all, L, looseness of life, and in many, T, treachery. I shall conclude the subject, first, by way of exhortation. M, my masters, A, all of you, L, listen, T, to my text. Second, by way of caution. M, my masters, A, all of you, L, look for, T, the truth. Third, by way of communicating the truth, which is this :-A drunkard is the annoyance of modesty; the spoil of civility; the destruction of reason; the robber's agent; the alehouse's benefactor; his wife's sorrow; his children's trouble; his own shame; his neighbour's scoff; a walking swill-bowl; the picture of a beast; the monster of a man!"-Penny Magazine, 1832.

FAIR PLAY.

A NOBLEMAN, resident at a castle in Italy, was about to celebrate his marriage feast. All the elements were propitious except the ocean, which had been so boisterous as to deny the very necessary appendage of fish. On the very morning of the feast, however, a poor fisherman made his appearance with a turbot so large that it seemed to have been created for the occasion. Joy pervaded the castle, and the fisherman was ushered with his prize into the saloon, where the nobleman, in the presence of his visitors, requested him to put what price he thought proper on the fish, and it should be instantly paid him. "One hundred lashes," said the fisherman, “ on my bare back, is the price of my fish, and I will not bate one strand of whipcord on the bargain." The nobleman and his guests were not a little astonished; but our chapman was resolute, and remonstrance was in vain. At length the nobleman exclaimed, "Well, well; the fellow is a humourist, and the fish we must have; but lay on lightly, and let the price be paid in our presence.' After fifty lashes had been administered, "Hold, hold!" exclaimed the fisherman; "I have a partner in this business, and it is fitting that he should receive his share. "What! are there two such madcaps in the world ?” exclaimed the nobleman. "Name him, and he shall be sent for instantly." "You need not go far for him," said the fisherman; "you will find him at your gate in the shape of your porter, who would not let me in until I promised that he should have the half of whatever I received for my turbot." "Oh, oh," said the nobleman, “bring him in instantly; he shall receive his stipulated moiety with the strictest justice." This ceremony being finished, he discharged the porter, and amply rewarded the fisherman.

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ARROGANCE.

THE petty sovereign of an insignificant tribe in North America every morning stalks out of his hovel, bids the sun good morrow, and points out to him with his finger the course he is to take for the day.

THE Chinese affect to despise European ingenuity; but they cannot mend a common watch; when it is out of order, they say it is dead, and barter it away for a living one.

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