"You run about, my little maid,
All sprightly and alive;

If two are in the churchyard laid,
Then ye are only five."

"Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little maid replied;

"Twelve steps or more, from mother's door, There they lie side by side;

"My stockings there I often knit,
My 'kerchief there I hem,
And there upon the ground I sit-
I sit, and sing to them.

"I often after sunset, Sir,
When it is light and fair
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.

"The first that died was little Jane, In bed she moaning lay,

Till God released her from her pain

And then she went away:

"So in the church-yard she was laid;
And all the summer dry,

Together round her grave we play'd,
My brother John and I.

"And when the ground was white with snow,

And I could run and slide,

My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side."

"How many are you, then," said I,
"If those two are in heaven ?"

The little maid still did reply,

"But two are dead, their spirits fled,
And now at rest in heaven ;"-
"Twas throwing words away, for still
The little maid would have her will,
And said, "Nay, we are seven."

W. WORDSWORTH.

THE DIGNITY OF LABOUR.

THERE is dignity in toil-in toil of the hand as well as toil of the head-in toil to provide for the bodily wants of an individual life, as well as in toil to promote some enterprize of world-wide fame. All labour that tends to supply man's wants, to increase man's happiness, to elevate man's nature-in a word, all labour that is honest, is honorable too.

What a concurrent testimony is given by the entire universe to the dignity of toil! Things inanimate and

things irrational combine with men and angels to proclaim the law of him who made them all. The restless atmosphere, the rolling rivers, and the heaving ocean, Nature's vast laboratory never at rest; countless agencies in the heavens above and in the earth beneath, and in the waters under the earth; the unwearied sun coming forth from his chamber, and rejoicing as a strong man to run a race; the changeful moon, whose never slumbering influence, the never-resting tides obey; the planets, never pausing in the mighty sweep of their majestic march; the sparkling stars, never ceasing to show forth the handiwork of Him who bade them shine; the busy swarms of insect life; the ant providing her meat in the summer, and gathering her food in the harvest; the birds exuberant in their flight, pouring forth the melody of their song; the beasts of the forest rejoicing in the gladness of activity; primeval man amid the bowers of Eden; paradise untainted by sin, yet honoured by toil; fallen man, with labour still permitted him, an alleviation of his woe, and an earnest of his recovery; redeemed man, divinely instructed, assisted, encouraged, honoured in his toil; the innumerable company of angels, never resting in their service, never wearied in their worship; the glorious Creator of the universe, who never slumbereth or sleepeth: all, all, bear testimony to the dignity of labour!

The dignity of labour! Consider its achievements! Dismayed by no difficulty, shrinking from no exertion, exhausted by no struggle, ever eager for renewed efforts, in its persevering promotion of human happiness,

"clamorous Labour knocks with its hundred hands at the golden gate of the morning," obtaining each day, through succeeding centuries, fresh benefactions for the world! Labour clears the forest, and drains the morass, and makes "the wilderness rejoice and blossom as the rose." Labour drives the plough and scatters the seed, and reaps the harvest, and grinds the corn, and converts it into bread, the staff of life. Labour tending the pastures and sweeping the waters, as well as cultivating the soil, provides with daily sustenance the nine hundred millions of the family of man. Labour gathers the gossamer web of the caterpillar, the cotton from the field, and the fleece from the flock, and weaves it into raiment soft and warm and beautiful—the purple robe of the prince, and the grey gown of the peasant, being alike its handiwork. Labour moulds the brick, and splits the slate, and quarries the stone, and shapes the column, and rears, not only the humble cottage, but the gorgeous palace, and the tapering spire, and the stately dome. Labour, diving deep into the solid earth, brings up its long-hidden stores of coal, to feed ten thousand furnaces, and in millions of habitations to defy the winter's cold. Labour explores the rich veins of deeply buried rocks, extracting the gold and silver, the copper and tin. Labour smelts the iron, and moulds it into a thousand shapes for use and ornament, from the massive pillar to the tiniest needle-from the ponderous anchor to the wire gauze, from the mighty fly-wheel of the steam engine to the polished purse-ring or the glittering bead. Labour hews down the gnarled oak, and shapes the

timber, and builds the ship, and guides it over the deep, plunging through the billows, and wrestling with the tempest, to bear to our shores the produce of every clime. Labour, laughing at difficulties, spans majestic rivers, carries viaducts over marshy swamps, suspends bridges over deep ravines, pierces the solid mountains with its dark tunnel, blasting rocks and filling hollows, and while linking together with its iron, but loving grasp all nations of the earth, verifying, in a literal sense, the ancient prophecy, "Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be brought low;" labour draws forth its delicate iron thread, and stretching it from city to city, from province to province, through mountains, and beneath the sea, realizes more than fancy ever fabled, while it constructs a chariot on which speech may outstrip the wind, compete with the lightning, for the Telegraph flies as rapidly as thought itself. Labour, a mighty magician, walks forth into a region uninhabited and waste; he looks earnestly at the scene, so quiet in its desolation; then waving his wonder-working wand, those dreary valleys smile with golden harvests; those barren mountains' slopes are clothed with foliage; the furnace blazes; the anvil rings; the busy wheel whirls round; the town appears; the mart of commerce, the hall of science, the temple of religion, rear high their lofty fronts; a forest of masts gay with varied pennons, rises from the harbour; representatives of far off regions make it their resort; Science enlists the elements of earth and heaven in its service; Art, awaking, clothes its strength with beauty;