possessing the most favorable opportunities of cultivating it, should be destitute of the means necessary for improving them to advantage.

Instead of the sagas, some of the more pious substitute the historical books of Scripture; and as they always give the preference to poetry, most of these books have been translated into metre, chiefly with a view to this exercise.

At the conclusion of the evening labors, which are frequently continued till near midnight, the family join in 5 singing a psalm or two; after which, a chapter from some book of devotion is read, if the family be not in possession of a Bible, but where this sacred book exists, it is preferred to every other. A prayer is also read by the head of the family, and the exercise concludes with a psalm. Their morning devotions are conducted in a similar manner, at the lamp. When the Icelander awakes, he does not salute any person that may have slept in the room with him, but hastens to the door, and, lifting up his eyes towards heaven, adores Him who made the heavens and the earth, the Au6 thor and Preserver of his being, and the Source of every blessing. He then returns into the house, and salutes every one he meets, with "God grant you a good day!"

There may be in the cup

A spider steeped, and one may drink,-depárt
And yet partake no venòm; for his knowledge
Is not infected; but if one present

The abhorred ingredient to his eye; make known
How he hath drúnk, he cracks his gorge, his sides
With violent hefts.*-Shakspeare.


Centennial Hymn.-PIERPONT.

[Sung in the Old South Meeting-house, Boston, on the Centennial Birthday of WASHINGTON.]

1 To Thee, beneath whose eye
Each circling century


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The Old South church was taken possession of by the British, while they held Boston, and converted into barracks for the cavalry, the pews being cut up for fuel, or used in constructing stalls for the horses.

From his position on "Dorchester Heights," that overlook the town, General Washington succeeded in compelling the British forces to evacuate Boston.

Alas, how little do we appreciate a mother's tenderness while living! How heedless, are we, in youth, of all her anxieties and kindness! But when she is dead and góne; when the cares and coldness of the world come withering to our hearts; when we experience how hard it is to find true sympathy, how few love us for ourselvés, how few will befriend us in our misfortúnes ;-then it is, that we think of the mother we have lost.-Irving.

As the vine which has long twined its graceful foliage about the oak, and been lifted by it into sunshine, will, when the hardy plant is rifted by the thunderbolt, cling round it with its caressing tendrils, and bind up its shattered boughs; so is it beautifully ordered by Providence, that woman, who is the mere dependant and ornament of man in his happier hoúrs, should be his stay and solace, when smitten with sudden calamity; winding herself into the rugged recesses of his nature, tenderly supporting the drooping head, and binding up the broken heart.-Id.



1 A BARKING sound the shepherd hears,
A cry as of a dog or fox ;-
He halts, and searches with his eyes
Among the scattered rocks:
And now, at distance, can discern
A stirring in a brake of fern,
From which immediately leaps out
A dog, and yelping, runs about.

2 The dog is not of mountain breed;
Its motions, too, are wild and shy;
With something-as the shepherd thinks-
Unusual in its cry:

Nor is there any one in sight,

All round, in hollow, or on height;

Nor shout, nor whistle, strikes his ear:-
What is the creature doing here?

3 It was a cove, a huge recess,

That keeps till June, December's snow;
A lofty precipice in front,
A silent tarn* below:

Far in the bosom of Helvellyn,
Remote from public road or dwelling,
Pathway or cultivated land,
From trace of human foot or hand.

4 There, sometimes, does a leaping fish Send through the tarn a lonely cheer; The crags repeat the raven's croak,

In symphony austere.

Thither the rainbow comes; the cloud;
And mists, that spread the flying shroud;
And sunbeams; and the sounding blast,
That, if it could, would hurry past
But that enormous barrier binds it fast.

5 Not knowing what to think, a while

The shepherd stood; then makes his way
Towards the dog, o'er rocks and stones,
As quickly as he may:

Nor far had gone, before he found
A human skeleton on the ground :
Sad sight! the shepherd, with a sigh,
Looks round, to learn the history.

6 From those abrupt and perilous rocks,
The man had fallen,-that place of fear!-
At length, upon the shepherd's mind
It breaks, and all is clear.

He instantly recalled the name,
And who he was and whence he came ;
Remembered too, the very day
On which the traveller passed this way,

7 But hear a wonder now, for sake
Of which this mournful tale I tell;
A lasting monument of words
This wonder merits well:-

*Tarn is a small mere er lake, mostly high up in the mountains.

The dog, which still was hovering nigh,

Repeating the same timid cry,
This dog had been, through three months' space,
A dweller in that savage place.

8 Yes, proof was plain, that since the day
On which the traveller thus had died,
The dog had watched about the spot,

Or by his master's side:

How nourished here, through such long time,
He knows, who gave that love sublime,
And gave that strength of feeling, great
Above all human estimate.

How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning!-how art thou cast down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations! For thou hast said in thine heart,

will ascend into heaven; I will exalt my throne above the stars of God: I will sit also upon the mount of the congregatiòn, in the sides of the north: I will ascend above the neights of the clouds; I will be like the Most High. Yet thou shalt be brought down to hell, to the sides of the pit. They that shall see thee, shall narrowly look upon thee, and consider thee, saying, Is this the man that made the earth to tremble, that did shake kingdóms? that made the world as a wilderness, and destroyed the cities thereof? that opened not the house of his prisoners ?-Bible

And the Lord sent Nathan unto David. And he came unto him, and said unto him, There were two men in one city; the one rích, and the other poor. The rich man had. exceeding many flocks and herds: but the poor man had nothing save one little ewe-lamb which he had bought and nourished up and it grew up together with him, and with his children; it did eat of his own meat, and drank of his own cup, and lay in his bosom, and was unto him as a daughter. And there came a traveller unto the rich man, and he spared to take of his own flock and of his own herd, to dress for the wayfaring man that was come unto him; out took the poor man's lamb, and dressed it for the man that was come to him. And David's anger was greatly

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