Or sheds a tear o'er him to Egypt sold,
And wonders why he weeps. O blissful days!
When all men worship God as conscience wills.
Far other times our fathers' grandsires knew,
A virtuous race, to godliness devote.
With them each day was holy, but that morn
On which the angel said, "See where the Lord
Was laid," joyous arose-to die that day
Was bliss. Long ere the dawn, by devious ways,
O'er hills, through woods, o'er dreary wastes,
they sought

The upland muirs, where rivers, there but brooks,

And words of comfort spake: over their souls His accents soothing came,-as to her young The heath-fowl's plumes, when, at the close of

eve,

She gathers in, mournful, her brood dispersed By murderous sport, and o'er the remnant spreads

Fondly her wings; close nestling 'neath her breast,

They, cherish'd, cower amid the purple blooms.
O Scotland! much I love thy tranquil dales:
But most on Sabbath eve, when low the sun
Slants through the upland copse, 't is my de-
light,

Wandering, and stopping oft, to hear the song
Of kindred praise arise from humble roofs;
Or, when the simple service ends, to hear
The lifted latch, and mark the gray-hair'd

man,

The father and the priest, walk forth alone
Into his garden-plat, or little field,
And with his God commune in secret prayer,--
To bless the Lord, that in his downward years
His children are about him: Sweet, meantime,
The thrush, that sings upon the aged thorn,
Brings to his view the days of youthful years
When that same aged thorn was but a bush.
Nor is the contrast between youth and age
To him a painful thought; he joys to think
His journey near a close-heaven is his home.
More happy far that man, though bowed down,
Though feeble be his gait, and dim his eye,

Than they, the favorites of youth and health, Of riches and of fame, who have renounced The glorious promise of the life to come, Clinging to death.

Or mark that female face,
The faded picture of its former self,-
The garments coarse, but clean;-frequent at
church

I've noted such a one, feeble and pale,
Yet standing, with a look of mild content,
Till beckon'd by some kindly hand to sit.
She had seen better days; there was a time
Her hands could earn her bread, and freely
give

To those who were in want; but now old age,
And lingering disease, have made her helpless.
Yet she is happy, ay, and she is wise,
(Philosophers may sneer, and pedants frown,)
Although her Bible is her only book;
And she is rich, although her only wealth
Is recollection of a well-spent life-
Is expectation of the life to come.
Examine here, explore the narrow path
In which she walks; look not for virtuous deeds
In history's arena, where the prize
Of fame, or power, prompts to heroic acts.
Peruse the lives themselves of men obscure :-
There charity, that robs itself to give;
There fortitude in sickness, nursed by want;
There courage, that expects no tongue to praise;
There virtue lurks, like purest gold deep hid,
With no alloy of selfish motive mix'd.

The poor man's boon, that stints him of his

bread,

Is prized more highly in the sight of Him
Who sees the heart, than golden gifts from

hands

That scarce can know their countless treasures

less:

Yea, the deep sigh that heaves the poor man's breast

To see distress, and feel his willing arm
Palsied by penury, ascends to heaven;
While ponderous bequests of lands and goods
Ne'er rise above their earthly origin.

And should all bounty, that is clothed with power

Be deem'd unworthy?-Far be such a thought!
Even when the rich bestow, there are sure tests
Of genuine charity; -Yes, yes, let wealth
Give other alms than silver or than gold,-
Time, trouble, toil, attendance, watchfulness,
Exposure to disease;-yes, let the rich
Be often seen beneath the sick man's roof;
Or cheering, with inquiries from the heart,
And hopes of health, the melancholy range
Of couches in the public wards of woe:
There let them often bless the sick man's bed,
With kind assurances that all is well
At home, that plenty smiles upon the board,-
The while the hand that earn'd the frugal meal
Can hardly raise itself in sign of thanks.
Above all duties, let the rich man search
Into the cause he knoweth not, nor spurn
The suppliant wretch as guilty of a crime.
Ye bless'd with wealth! (another name for

A WINTER PIECE.

- But winter has yet brighter scenes-he boasts

Splendors beyond what gorgeous summer knows; Or autumn, with his many fruits, and woods All flush'd with many hues. Come, when the rains

Have glazed the snow, and clothed the trees with ice:

While the slant sun of February pours
Into the bowers a flood of light. Approach!
The incrusted surface shall upbear thy steps,
And the broad arching portals of the grove
Welcome thy entering. Look! the massy trunks
Are cased in the pure crystal; each light spray,
Nodding and tinkling in the breath of heaven,
Is studded with its trembling water-drops,
That stream with rainbow-radiance as they move.
But round the parent stem the long low boughs
Bend, in a glittering ring, and arbors hide
The glassy floor. O! you might deem the spot
The spacious cavern of some virgin mine,
Deep in the womb of earth-where the gems
grow,

And diamonds put forth radiant rods and bud
With amethyst and topaz-and the place
Lit up, most royally, with the pure beam
That dwells in them. Or haply the vast hall
Of fairy palace, that outlasts the night,
And fades not in the glory of the sun;-
Where crystal columns send forth slender shafts
And crossing arches; and fantastic aisles
Wind from the sight in brightness, and are lost
Among the crowded pillars. Raise thine eye,-
Thou seest no cavern roof, no palace vault;
There the blue sky and the white drifting cloud
Look in. Again the wilder'd fancy dreams
Of spouting fountains, frozen as they rose,
And fix'd, with all their branching jets, in air,
And all their sluices seal'd. All, all is light;
Light without shade. But all shall pass away
With the next sun. From numberless vast
trunks,

Loosen'd, the crashing ice shall make a sound
Like the far roar of rivers, and the eve
Shall close o'er the brown woods as it was wont.
And it is pleasant, when the noisy streams
Are just set free, and milder suns melt off
The plashy snow, save only the firm drift
In the deep glen or the close shade of pines,-
"T is pleasant to behold the wreaths of smoke
Roll up among the maples of the hill,
Where the shrill sound of youthful voices wakes
The shriller echo, as the clear pure lymph,
That from the wounded trees, in twinkling drops,
Falls, 'mid the golden brightness of the morn,
Is gather'd in with brimming pails, and oft,
Wielded by sturdy hands, the stroke of ax
Makes the woods ring. Along the quiet air,
Come and float calmly off the soft light clouds,
Such as you see in summer, and the winds
Scarce stir the branches. Lodged in sunny cleft,
Where the cold breezes come not, blooms alone
The little wind-flower, whose just-open'd eye
Is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at-
Startling the loiterer in the naked groves
With unexpected beauty, for the time
Of blossoms and green leaves is yet afar.
And ere it comes, the encountering winds shall
oft

Muster their wrath again, and rapid clouds
Shade heaven, and bounding on the frozen earth
Shall fall their volley'd stores, rounded like hail.
And white like snow, and the loud North again
Shall buffet the vex'd forests in his rage.

W. C. BRYANT.

THE BAT TRIBE.

THIS THIS curious family presents at first sight such a remarkable peculiarity of form, that a person, having no previous acquaintance with its different members, might well hesitate whether to call them beasts or birds. This difficulty vanishes on a closer examination, which proves them to belong to the former class, their resemblance to a bird depending on an umbrella-like expansion of delicate membrane, stretched upon the bones of the fore extremities, which are greatly elongated, and widely separated from one another. These correspond to the wires or whalebones, so that, by merely opening and shutting its hands, as it were, this timid night-loving little animal can poise its body in the air as lightly as its feathered companions. Nor is this all: the whole surface of this soft, hairless membrane is endowed with so fine a sense of touch,

that the creature is enabled, with ease and certainty, to avoid obstacles in its flight, and this even in circumstances where vision is impossible, distinguishing them apparently by the mere rebound of the wave of air produced by the impulse of its wings. The large, shell-shaped ears, with which some species of bats are furnished, possess the same exquisite sensibility, and thus aid their movements in the feeble and uncertain light in which they ply the wing. The thumb is short, and ends in a claw, by which, "during the day, they hang other buildings, or in crevices of ruined suspended from the roofs of barns and castles; or they shelter beneath the murky canopy of caves, or the overhanging gloom of shaded rocks. Neither do they despise the secure concealment afforded by the hollow chambers of ancient forest trees;"

but

"When fades the glimm'ring landscape on the sight,

And all the air a solemn stillness holds,"

they wake into life and activity, and may often be glimpsed in the dusk of a summer's evening, flitting to and fro in pursuit of the insects on which they feed.

The body of the smaller species of bat is very like that of the mouse, and about the same size. Like that, it is also covered with a close, soft fur. This resemblance has given rise to its popular name

The Kalongs, or fox-bats of Java, are remarkable for inhabiting trees, to the branches of which they attach themselves

ed by their hind-claws, with their wings wrapped round them, the silent and motionless groups are often mistaken for fruit amid the foliage. If alarmed, they utter piercing shrieks and cries, struggling at the same time to extricate their sharp claws from the branches, to which they cling so firmly, that, if shot while sleeping away the sultry hours, they retain their hold even after death. But at the approach of nightfall they relax their grasp, and one

after another, in irregular but uninterrupted succession, they drop from the tree, and wing their steady flight for the nearest forest or plantation, where they do incredible mischief, by devouring indiscriminately every kind of fruit they can light upon. The Vampire bat is met with only in South America, and is said to equal a magpie in size. It has acquired an unenviable notoriety from its habit of sucking blood. This it is enabled to do by the peculiar form of its mouth, which is beset with tubercles, and contains a tongue "six times longer than broad, flattish above, rounded beneath, the surface slightly shagreened, with a peculiar cavity close to its extremity, the center of which is marked by a raised point, and the circumference by eight warts." Travelers vary in their accounts respecting its bloodthirsty propensity, which some affirm, while others deny.

Clinging to the branch of a tree in the Molucca Islands, there may be often seen a strange, grotesque-looking object, about a foot in length, with apparently shapeless and ill-matched limbs. It belongs to the tribe of lemurs, but, like the bats, which in some respects it resembles, its period of activity is during the darkness of night. Through the day it hangs suspended amid the branches of some lofty tree, often with its head downward; but, when darkness

sets in, it roams about the woods, preying upon fruits and insects. To give it the advantage of passing quickly from tree to tree, without descending to the ground, the skin on each side of its body is spread out in the form of a large web or mantle; and, in its springs and leaps, this, being suddenly spread out like a parachute, breaks the force of its descent, and enables it to alight in safety. On the ground these little creatures run with some degree of swiftness, and climb the trees in the same manner as a cat. They prove troublesome neighbors to the birds, on whose eggs they sup; nor have they any scruples in including the birds themselves in the repast.

Its color is usually red or gray, varying with its age. The ears are short and rounded, and the muzzle pointed, giving its head an appearance not unlike a fox. There seems something disproportioned in its small head, flat incurvated tail, slender body, and large bony limbs. The muscular development of the limbs, especially of the arms, is extraordinary; but, powerful as they seem, they are evidently unsuited to defend itself from attack, or to retain a firm hold of struggling prey; for the feet are undivided into toes, and the claws diverge in different directions. But these strong arms, though of little use against its enemies, enable it to climb