My Mother's Grave.-ANONYMOUS

"I had a mother once, like you,
Who o'er my pillow hung,
Kissed from my cheek the briny dew
And taught my faltering tongue.

But then there came a fearful day :-
sought my mother's bed;

Till harsh hands tore me thence away,
And told me she was dead."

1 It was thirteen years since my mother's death, when, after a long absence from my native village, I stood beside the sacred mound beneath which I had seen her buried. Since that mournful period, great changes had come over me. My childish years had passed away, and with them had passed my youthful character. The world was altered too; and as I stood at my mother's grave, I could hardly realize that I was the same thoughtless, happy creature, whose cheek she so often kissed in her excess of tenderness.- -But the varied events of thirteen years had not ef2 faced the remembrance of that mother's smile. It seemed as if I had seen her yesterday-as if the blessed sound of her voice was then in my ear. The gay dreams of my infancy and childhood were brought back so distinctly to my mind, that, had it not been for one bitter recollection, the tears I shed would have been gentle and refreshing. The circumstance may seem a trifling one; but the thought of it even now agonizes my heart, and I relate it, that those children who have parents to love them, may learn to value them as they ought.


My mother had been ill a long time, and I had become so much accustomed to her pale face and weak voice, that I was not frightened at them, as children usually arc. At first, it is true, I had sobbed violently- for they told me she would die; but when, day after day, I returned from school, and found her the same, I began to believe she would always be spared to me.

One day, when I had lost my place in the class, and done my work wrong-side-outward, I came home discour

aged and fretful. I went into my mother's chamber, She 4 was paler than usual,-but she met me with the same affectionate smile that always welcomed my return. Alas! when I look back, through the lapse of thirteen years, I think my heart must have been stone, not to have been melted by it.

She requested me to go down stairs, and bring her a glass of water. I pettishly asked why she did not call the domestic to do it. With a look of mild reproach, which I shall never forget, if I live to be a hundred years old, she said, "And will not my daughter bring a glass of 5 water for her poor sick mother?"

I went and brought her the water; but I did not do it kindly. Instead of smiling, and kissing her, as I was wont to do, I set the glass down very quick, and left the


After playing a short time, I went to bed without bid ding my mother " good night," but when alone in my room, in darkness and silence, I remembered how pale she looked, and how her voice trembled when she said, "Will not my daughter bring a glass of water for her poor 6 sick mother?"-I could not sleep; and I stole into her chamber to ask forgiveness. She had just sunk into an uneasy slumber; and they told me I must not waken her. I did not tell any one what troubled me; but stole back to my bed, resolving to rise early in the morning and tell her how sorry I was for my conduct.

The sun was shining brightly when I awoke, and, hurrying on my clothes, I hastened to my mother's room.

She was dead!-she never spoke to me more-never smiled upon me again;-and when I touched the hand 7 that used to rest upon my head in blessing, it was so cold it made me start. I bowed down by her side and sobbed in the bitterness of my heart. I thought then, I wished I could die, and be buried with her; and, old as I now am, I would give worlds, were they mine to give, could my mother but have lived to tell me she forgave my childish ingratitude. But I cannot call her back: and when I stand by her grave, and whenever I think of her manifold kindness, the memory of that reproachful look she gave me, will "bite like a serpent and sting like an adder."


-Not to know at large of things remote
From use, obscure and subtlé; but to know
That, which before us lies, in daily life,
Is the prime wisdóm: what is móre, is fùme,
Or emptiness, or fond impertinènce,
And renders us, in things that most concern,
Unpractised, unprepared, and still to seek.-Milton.


At the same time that I think discretion the most useful talent a man can be master of, I look upon cunning to be the accomplishment of little, mean, ungenerous minds. Discretion points out the noblest ends to us, and pursues the most proper and laudable methods of attaining them; cunning has only private, selfish aims, and sticks at nothing which may make them succeed. Discretion has large and extensive views, and like a well-formed eye, commands a whole horizon; cunning is a kind of short-sightedness, that discovers the minutest objects which are near at hand, but is not able to discern things at a distance.-Addison.


Forgiveness of Injuries.-BIBLE.

AND it came to pass, when Saul was returned from following the Philistines, that it was told him, saying, Behold, David is in the wilderness of En-gedi. Then Saul took three thousand chosen men out of all Israel, and went to seek David and his men upon the rocks of the wild goats. And he came to the sheep-cotes by the way, where was a cave; and Saul went in to cover his feet: and David and his men remained in the sides of the cave. And the men of David said unto him, Behold the day of which the Lord said unto thee, Behold, I will deliver thine enemy into thy 2 hand, that thou mayest do to him as it shall seem good unto thee. Then David arose, and cut off the skirt of Saul's robe privily. And it came to pass afterward, that David's heart smote him, because he had cut off Saul's skirt.


he said unto his men, The Lord forbid that I should do this thing unto my master, the Lord's anointed, to stretch forth my hand against him, seeing he is the anointed of the Lord. So David stayed his servants with these words, and suffered them not to rise against Saul. But Saul rose up out of the cave, and went on his way. David also arose after3 ward, and went out of the cave, and cried after Saul, saying, My lord the king! And when Saul looked behind him, David stooped with his face to the earth, and bowed himself.

And David said to Saul, Wherefore hearest thou men's words, saying, Behold, David seeketh thy hurt? Behold, this day thine eyes have seen how that the Lord hath delivered thee to-day into my hand in the cave: and some bade me kill thee; but mine eye spared thee; and I said, I will not put forth my hand against my lord; for he is the Lord's anointed. Morcover, my father, see, yea, see the skirt 4 of thy robe in my hand; for in that I cut off the skirt of thy robe, and killed thee not, know thou and see that there is neither evil nor transgression in my hand, and I have not sinned against thee; yet thou huntest my soul to take it. The Lord judge between me and thee, and the Lord avenge me of thee but my hand shall not be upon thee. As saith the proverb of the ancients, Wickedness proceedeth from the wicked: but my hand shall not be upon thee. After whom is the king of Israel come out? After whom dost thou pursue? After a dead dog, after a flea? The 5 Lord therefore be judge and judge between me and thee, and see, and plead my cause, and deliver me out of thy hand.

And it came to pass when David had made an end of speaking these words unto Saul, that Saul said, Is this thy voice, my son David? And Saul lifted up his voice and wept. And he said unto David, Thou art more righteous than I for thou hast rewarded me good, whereas I have rewarded thee evil. And thou hast showed this day how that thou hast dealt well with me; forasmuch as when the Lord had delivered me into thy hand, thou killedst me 6 not. For if a man find his enemy, will he let him go well away? Wherefore the Lord reward thee good, for that thou hast done unto me this day. And now, behold, I know well that thou shalt surely be king, and that the kingdom of Israel shall be established in thy hand. Swear now therefore unto me by the Lord, that thou wilt not cut off my seed after me,

and that thou wilt not destroy my name out of my father's house. And David sware unto Saul. And Saul went home; but David and his men gat them up unto the hold.

1 THEN came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times? Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, until seven times; but, until seventy times seven.

Therefore is the kingdom of heaven likened unto a certain king, which would take account of his servants. And when he had begun to reckon, one was brought unto him which owed him ten thousand talents. But forasmuch as he had not to pay, his lord commanded him to be sold, and his wife and children, and all that he had, and payment to be 2 made. The servant therefore fell down and worshipped him, saying, Lord, have patience with me, and I will pay thee all. Then the lord of that servant was moved with compassion, and loosed him, and forgave him the debt. But the same servant went out, and found one of his fellow-servants, which owed him a hundred pence: and he laid hands on him, and took him by the throat, saying, Pay me that thou owest. And his fellow-servant fell down at his feet, and besought him, saying, Have patience with me and I will pay thee all. And he would not: but went and cast him 3 into prison, till he should pay the debt. So when his fellow servants saw what was done, they were very sorry, and came and told unto their lord all that was done. Then his lord, after he had called him, said unto him, O thou wicked servant! I forgave thee all that debt, because thou desiredst me: Shouldest not thou also have had compassion on thy fellow-servant, even as I had pity on thee? And his lord was wroth, and delivered him to the tormentors, till he should pay all that was due unto him. So likewise shall my heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye from your heart forgive not every one his brother their trespasses.

1 O God, my sins are manifold; against my life they cry; And all my guilty deeds, foregone, up to thy temple fly: Wilt thou release my trembling soul, that to despair is driven?

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Forgive!" a blessed voice replied, " and thou shalt be 'forgiven !"

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