Now on the soft green turf that mother her babe doth lie,
While over its head is a watcher dread, in that dark spot in the sky.
She kisses its cherub cheek, and leaves awhile: ah! woe!

For broader above, o'er her gentle dove, that terrible spot doth

grow;

Hush'd was the peasants' mirth, and the stoutest they stood aghast,

And the wail of despair, it rent the air, as the eagle o'er them

pass'd;

He has stolen the pretty child, all in its rosy sleep,

And bears it in might, with ponderous flight, straight towards

his castle keep.

Whose is that upturned face, white as the mountain snow?
Horror is there, and blank despair, speechless and tearless woe;
Pale are those bloodless lips, but lo! in that mother's eye
There flashed the light of love's great might, stronger than agony,
She darts from the wailing throng, her coming is like the wind;
The weeping aloud of the noisy crowd dieth away behind,
She rusheth o'er field and fell, her footsteps at hinderance mock;
She startles the snake in the rustling break and reacheth the
Eagle's rock.

Mother! go home and weep; what canst thou farther do?
Over thy head, immense and dread, frowneth the mountain blue;
Sorrow hath made her mad; she scaleth the rough rock's side
Now passing the edge of a shelving ledge, and now on a plat-
form wide,

Onward and upward still, scarce does she pause for breath. Woman! beware! thou hast not there a step between thee and

death!

Scrambling up fearful crags, still doth she higher go;

Close let her cling! the loose stones ring, cllatt'ring to depths

below.

First of the breathless crowds, flocking in haste beneath,

A son of the wave, high-soul'd and brave, dasheth across the

heath,

He follows her upward flight, yes, till his eyes grow dim; In the fierce storm blast he has topp'd the mast, but this is no place for him!

So he must softly creep down from the heights above;

His heart it is true, but he never knew the might of a mother's

love.

Higher she mounts! she climbs where the wild goat fears to stand; Death follows behind, fleet, fleet as the wind, still she eludes his

hand.

She reacheth the fearful wall under the great rock's brow, Where the ivy has clung, and has swayed and swung, from

earliest time till now,

Clamb'ring the network old which its twining stems have wrought,

She wrestles in prayer with her Maker there, doth she fear God

for nought?

Niagara's awful flood is spann'd by a radiant bow,

And joy, she springs on her sunny wings, from the blackest

tide of woe,

And the cry of that mother's heart is heard, and her faith is blest; For with rapture wild, she hath snatched her child unharmed

from the Eagle's nest.

Close to her throbbing heart she bindeth her weeping child, She wipeth its tears, and she quells its fears, up in that region

wild;

And she blesses the Mighty Hand that carried her there, and

knows

That aid shall be lent through the dread descent to that

perilous journey's close.

Hush! down the rifted rock she beareth her burden sweet;

No might of her own maketh fast each stone firmly beneath

her feet.

She trusts, and her bleeding hands safely the ivy grasp,

For a spirit of love from her God above is strengthening it in

her clasp.

Lower she comes, and sees beneath her a mountain lamb

That, cautious and slow, to the vale below follows its careful dam; And she tracketh, with thankful heart, the path of her gentle

guide,

Whose feet will be found on the surest ground down the steep mountain's side.

Hark! from the plain beneath, voices are rising loud!

The shout and the cheer, they have reached her ear, and she seeth the breathless crowd.

Louder, and louder still, swelleth the welcome strain ;

Oh, loving heart! thou has done thy part, return to thy home

again.

She reacheth the mountain's foot; hurrah! for her task is o'er ; The deed she hath done hath a tribute won of praises for

evermore.

And a lesson she taught to all, of energy, faith, and love.

Hast thou the right? stand up and fight, looking to God above! Shame on ye! timid souls, feeble for aught but ill ;

Shall sin and shall woe waste this world below, and will ye lie sluggish still?

Wrest from their grasp the prey; crush them though eowards mock;

And if the heart quail, and the courage fail, think of the

Eagle's rock.

MRS. SURR.

SERIOUS PIECES.

THE RAPIDS.

J. B. GOUGH.

Young men with respect to the strength/of an evil habit, you say you can leave it when you please. Now I know you can, and I know that this is said in regard to the acquiring of all bad habits I can give it up when I choose.

God pity you! If ever you begin to feel the fetters of a bad habit galling you, and you go out to burst them, and find them like welded iron bands, eating into the marrow, until you cry,lin agony of spirit, Who shall deliver me from this slavery

of death?

A man's power to do a thing is valueless, unless he have the will to exercise that power. Suppose I lay myself on the trams of the railway, you come to rouse me, and I say, “ You mind your own business, I'm not fool enough to be run over I can get up when I choose."

A train comes thundering along and cuts my body in two! Why, I am a self-murderer! I had the power and the warning; I refuse to exercise that power and go before God, a suicide. \\

I tell you, young man, that while the power of a bad habit strips you of nerve and energy, and freshness of feeling, it does not destroy your responsibility you are accountable to God! for every power, and talent, and influence of position. Although the power of evil habit destroys your power for good, you are as accountable for it as if you had put it forth, and then, too late, you will find that the wages of sin is death. "I can quit it,\ but I won't." If you say, ' Should I find it by experience to he

injurious, I will give it up. Surely that is not common sense. Yet such is the fascination thrown around a man by the power of evil habit, that it must have essentially injured him) before 1 he will consent to give it up. Many a man has been struck down in his prosperity, has been sent to prison for crime before he acknowledged that his evil habit was injuring him!

You might as well say,\"I will put my hand into the ne、 of the rattlesnake, and when I find out that he has struck his fangs into me, I will draw it out and get it cured.''

I remember riding from Buffalo to the Niagara Falls, and I said to a gentleman, What river is that, sir?' Niagara River." "Well, it is a beautiful stream and glassy. How far off are the rapids ?"

That, is the bright, fair,

Only a mile or two, was the reply." Is it possible that only a mile from us we shall find the water in the turbulence/which it must show when near the Falls ?” "You will find it so, sir,l' and so I found it

And the first sight of the Niagara I shall never forget. Now, launch your barque on that Niagara River. It is bright, smooth, beautiful and glassy. There is a ripple at the bow, The silvery wake you leave behind you adds to your enjoyment. Down the stream you glide, oars, sails and helm \in proper trim, and you set out on your pleasure excursion. Suddenly some one cries from the bank," Young men, ahoy!" "What is it?" "The Rapids are below you!" "Ha, ha! We have heard of the Rapids, but we are not such fools las to get there. If we go too fast, then we shall up with the helm, and steer for the shore. We will set the mast in the socket, hoist the sail and speed to land. Then on, boys; don't be alarmed. There's no danger. Young men, ahoy there!" "What is it? Another old fool." "The Rapids are below you!" Ha ha, ha! We will laugh and quaff; all things\delight us! What care we for the future? No manfever saw it Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. We will enjoy life while we may we will catch pleasure as it flies. This is enjoyment; time enough to steer out of danger when we are sailing swiftly with the current

wel