SCENERIES OF AN EVENING.

"But," interposed Grange, "what have you meant by inviting my attention and preferring my society to the admirers that have fluttered about you since you have been here?"

"Precisely this: I perceive you are ignorant of the world. You were the most eligible of all the train for a beau; and, just to tease Mary, and see how much her piety was above her jealousy-you understand me?"

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all resentment in the deep penitence of her lover, and his humiliating confession. They were eventually married; and though the love of Mary Harris was like the quiet light of a constant star, it was a light that shone more and more unto the perfect day; and as Mr. Grange become a great and good man, year after year, he blessed God for the calm, holy, and beautiful influence which his passionless wife shed over the happiest of households and the most

"Yes," answered Grange, with a shudder of dis- peaceful of all parishes. gust; "but this change of heart—"

"Nothing easier managed! But I am in nothing different than when I left home, except that I had a few pious wishes when I first came here; but they vanished as soon as I formed the idea of making a conquest of you!"

SCENERIES OF AN EVENING.

BY J. W. ROBERTS.

--

THERE are some particular events, actions, cir

"But I really love you, Ellen, and I feel that much depends upon you for my future happiness."cumstances, and scenes through which we pass, that "I am positively sorry for you, Mr. Grange. You were engaged to Mary Harris, and I must say you are rightly punished for being so easily led from your shrine by a giddy girl like me. Upon my word, I like you, and if you were any thing but a parson, you would do. But I am yawning, and must bid you good night. I return to the city to-morrow."

peculiarly attract our attention, and engage our feelings, and upon which the mind dwells with unusual interest, and to which we refer with pain, pleasure, wonder, or admiration, accordingly as the subject is calculated to inspire our nature. It is a scene of this kind-one which made a deep impression on my mind, and on which my thoughts are wont to dwell with uncommon feeling-that I now endeavor to portray. And perhaps this mixed effusion of fancy and reality may meet a response in some kindred spirit.

It was a beautiful evening, and I walked out to gaze on the loveliness of the scenery. Nature seemed in one of her happiest moods. The sun had just fallen back "behind the western hills." His part

Mr. Grange was early at Mr. Harris' on the following morning; and Ellen Dale took her leave of him in such a manner as to excite his hopes. Like a charmed bird, he followed her to the city in a few weeks, to renew his hopeless suit; but alas for the folly of such an ill-assorted attachment! he was indignantly repulsed from the door as a stranger; and Ellen Dale, in the midst of the winter, sent a mocking letter to the parish of Peacedale, requesting hering beams, like golden spires, shot up and played publishment to be read in the church. This rejec-along the hesperian sky, and penciled in most gortion, together with the ill-concealed indignation of the parish at the conduct of their hitherto dear pastor, operating upon a most sensitive nature, prostrated the victim of gossip and coquetry to a lingering and stubborn illness, in which he was removed from his inconvenient and noisy boarding-house, (the hotel,) to the quiet and commodious residence of Mr. Harris. Mary Harris had borne to the last the triumph and unconcealed joy of Ellen Dale over her mortification; but when she told her that Grange confessed he thought he loved her, but she was cold and passionless, the whole of woman's nature was aroused, and she inwardly resolved that she would blot out for ever from her memory an attachment which was likely to be the cause of everlasting unhappiness to her. When did woman ever succeed in such an attempt? There may have been deceit, unrequited affection, and even the most painful fickleness of attachment; but if the woman loved constantly at first, it is a principle that no after affection can uproot.

Mr. Grange rapidly recovered. Perhaps his convalescence was accelerated by the consciousness of who his assiduous nurse was. Mary Harris forgot

geous hues the bright blue canvas of the vault of heaven; and all the bright and glowing tints above were mirrored on the glassy bosom of calm, unruffled waters. I cast a look over the surrounding landscape. There all was beautiful. The verdant plant spread out its tiny folds or ample leaves to catch the evening breeze that gently o'er it played. The flower raised its drooping head to be refreshed by drinking in the soft distilling dews. A zephyr breeze played round its fragile form and trembling leaves, and, laden with its odors sweet, passed onward with a gentle sigh, just whispering as it fled away. For sometime I gazed upon this scene with unmingled pleasure; and when the evening shades grew dim, I cast a look upward to the arch of heaven. There the tiny star, "not seeming larger than the diamond in a lady's ring," twinkled like a little spark hung out by some kind hand to light and cheer the nightly path of man. Larger and still larger it grew, while myriads more around it shone as darker grew the shades of night.

What a scene for reflection this! Those heavenly orbs, were they the handiwork of God? and are they, too, with beings filled like earth? or trod by those of

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LAND OF BEAUTY! LAND OF LIGHT!

the giant oak fell prostrate with a crash, or sent his branches forth in winged flight upon the mighty blast. For one full hour the storm in fury howled, then spent its wrath, and ceased.

The clouds fled fast away, and, soon, their dark

finer mold? or yet the blissful home of saints, who from our world have soared in happy flight? That they are God's own works, no reasoning being can for a moment doubt. The design manifested, the order of their arrangement, and the exactness of their movements, prove this beyond controversy.ening shadows ceased to hang around; and, as they None but a God could design and create thus. Are they inhabited? This point must remain in uncertainty: on it we can only arrive to probable conjec-earth. The verdant plants beamed in her light, while ture. But that they exist for some wise purpose is beyond all doubt, as the all-wise Being who created them could only create them for such an end.

With thoughts like these my eye and mind still wandered through the realms of space; and bold imagination up through trackless ether's regions sped. From star to star, and world to world freely my fancy fled on, until, at last, mid worlds unnumbered, and through "sunlit systems" vast, it pierced the universe, and on the topmost world of light flitted round the eternal throne, where reigns the great almighty Power that spans creation's whole. I paused, and looked, and saw, centred in his hand, the reins of the empire of the universe. O what a potent one is he! At his nod all systems forward move, and at his word the moving worlds stand still. With one expansive glance, he looks on all, in all, and through all. All time, all space, all thought, } and all eternity are at once present with him who sits upon the throne.

Lost in the mazes of this wondrous scene, and filled with awe sublime at contemplating such unbounded majesty, my thoughts on speedy wing their backward flight commenced, and having joined with sight, when near the earth, dwelt on a scene familiar. A dark cloud had gathered in the west. Its towering head rose dark, vested with a gentle fringe of white. Its jetting points, like mountain crags, hung darkly o'er its sides, and, in streams of glaring fire, beneath their shade, the vivid lightning blazed. Hoarse muttering thunders, too, broke on the listening ear. I observed the coming storm, watched all its movements, and noted its approach; and when it came near, I returned to my room and seated myself by my window, to watch its further progress. The cloud continued to expand and widen, until the whole heavens were shrouded in a pall of black mantling darkness. The scene became majestic, then terrible. Flash followed flash in quick succession, until at length the liquid fire blazed forth in streams unceasing. Louder and still louder, the bold thunder, peal on peal, rent through the air. Then came the wind, on whose light wings Jehovah's footsteps fell, and his "pavilion roundabout" was waters dark. Thick clouds his chariot was. His coursers were the "swift-winged lightnings" bright, which, guided by his hand, sped the dark heavens across. storm at length broke forth. The wind swept fearless by: the rain in torrents fell: the thunder deeply rolled: the forest bent beneath the tempest's might:

The

rolled in hurried flight toward the east, the full-orbed moon burst forth. Her gentle rays fell softly on the

radiant drops, that hung from every tree, and bush, and shrub, and flower, shone like some sparkling gems bending from a leafy stem. Her silvery mantle "all things clad," and painted all the view in loveliness. A calm, the sweetest, rested now upon the face of heaven, which smiled as though no storm had ever traced its silent paths. The scene was so enchanting I walked out to enjoy it. I paused to look for the storm. The clouds were laying along the eastern horizon-the lightning still playing with its wonted brilliancy-the thunder still muttering in surly tones. I gazed on the loveliness and beauty of the scenery around me. My thoughts in meditation rose to Him in adoration, who had so visibly manifested himself in his works. And in communion with nature's God I drank sweet draughts of contemplation, which were as "the dew upon Mount Hermon," and delightful beverages to the soul.

LAND OF BEAUTY! LAND OF LIGHT!

BY REV. T. HARRISON.

THERE's a glorious land on high,
Far beyond the star-lit sky:
All things there are fair and bright:
Land of beauty! land of light!

Living splendor beameth there;
Holy fragrance fills the air;

All is rich with spotless white:
Land of beauty! land of light!

There no angry tempest blows;
No red bolt the thunder throws;
No dread gloom is spread by night:
Land of beauty! land of light!
There the holy mountains are,
And sweet valleys, stretched afar:
There are rivers, pure and bright:
Land of beauty! land of light!

Radiant verdure decks the ground:
Lovely flowers rejoice around:
All is glorious to the sight:
Land of beauty! land of light!

TRUTH, like its glorious Author, is the same
Amid the world's ten thousand changeful scenes.

FRIENDSHIP.

BY REV. R. W. ALLEN.

FRIENDSHIP.

"List how mournfully the breeze
Sighs amid yon leafless trees;
Gently now-now rising high,
It sweeps along the darken'd sky.
See those branches, rude and bare,
That in summer look'd so fair,
And their yellow leaves are found
Strewed upon the frosty ground.
Methinks the hollow murmuring blast
Tells ine that the summer's past-
Tells me that the winter's nigh-
Tells me all that live must die.
Is there naught can pleasure give?
Is there naught that will outlive
The raving storm and chilly blast,
And shine more bright when winter's past?
Yes, friendship is the social flower,
That will outlive the wintry power:
It droops not when the heat of June
Beats down intense at pitch of noon;
It fades not when the summer's past;
It dies not in the wintry blast;
The frosts of age it does not fear,
But blooms alike throughout the year.
So, when misfortunes on us crowd,

And wintry storms our prospects shroud,
A social friend imparts a joy

That ruthless time can ne'er destroy:
The bond of friendship lasts for ever,

Nor time, nor age that bond can sever."

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communicative, always ready to divulge their own secrets and those of others without proper caution"ready to accuse without malice, and to betray without treachery." Says a distinguished writer, "He cannot properly be chosen for a friend whose kindness is exhaled by its own warmth, or frozen by the first blast of slander; nor can he be a useful counselor who will hear no opinion but his own. That man will not much invite confidence whose principal maxim is to suspect; nor can his candor and frankness be much esteemed who makes every man without distinction a denizen of his bosom." "But to live in friendship," says a heathen writer, "is to have the same desires and the same aversions." There must be a congeniality of disposition, having a love for all that is good and a hatred to all that is evil. The tender emotions and benevolent feelings of the soul must be possessed and cultivated, while an aversion should be cherished to every contrary principle and influence. Heart must meet heart in closest union-in sweetest fellowship. Individuals thus united, having their sympathies and associations cemented, can tell each other of their imperfections without rudeness, and of their excellences without flattery-can feel for each other's woes-participate in each other's joys, and can mutually make sacrifices for each other's comfort. They cement their regards in Christian communion, mingle in their devotions, and are cheered by the same glorious hopes. Such was the friendship of David and Jonathan. It was sincere, affectionate, intimate, religious, firm, and permanent. "It ex

FRIENDSHIP Consists in mutual affection, and proceeds from intimate acquaintance, and a reciproca-pressed itself by their companionship, their kind tion of kind offices, or from a favorable opinion of the amiable and respectable qualities of mind. But it always exists in connection with virtue. This gives it its excellence. Says Sallust, "There can be no friendship without virtue; for that intimacy, which among good men is called friendship, becomes faction, when it subsists among the unprincipled." { Friendship is one of the essential elements of real felicity in social life. It holds a conspicuous place among the social virtues, and furnishes one of the richest ornaments to human character.

conversations, their entire confidence, their tears, benedictions, and prayers. When, in the course of divine providence, they were called to separate, still friendly affection lived and flourished in their hearts; and when the one was cut off by an untimely death, the survivor wept in tender regret, composed a just panegyric on departed worth, and assiduously inquired whether there were any of his relations toward whom he might express that benevolent feeling which he entertained for his deceased friend. We call this the delicacy, the polish, the refinement, the sentimentalism of friendship, and we pity those

strangers to its gentle and generous exercises." Such is the friendship we recommend; and were it generally possessed, the earth would become a paradise-a place resembling the celestial abode.

How little of true friendship we find in the world! How few are prepared for its possession and enjoy-rough-cast spirits, and frigid bosoms, which are total ment! In some an inveterate selfishness predominates: in others the sordid love of gain. Some are ardent enough in their affections; but they are unstable, constantly attracted by new objects, displeased without offense, and "alienated without enmity." Others are flexible in their character, easily influenced by reports, and ready to listen to every suspicion which envy or flattery may present. Some despise the advice of friends, and are more willing to do wrong following their own judgment, than to follow that of others and do right. Others are concealed in all their plans and purposes, and you know nothing of them but in their execution. Some are VOL. VI.-47

To render friendship permanent and undecaying, requires constant study and exertion. We should not expect too much of our friends. They may often fail us in our expectations, and disappoint us in our hopes. Impeccability is not theirs-" to err is human." We should make suitable allowances for their short-comings, errors, and imperfections, and exercise toward them the "charity that thinketh no evil."

Among friends differences of opinion will frequently be experienced. But these should be considered rather the result of our present condition and circumstances, than the evidence of a want of proper affection, or of intentional wrong. Indeed, we cannot reasonably expect otherwise, considering the different habits, modes of thought, and constitutional peculiarities of men. These differences may innocently, and, perhaps, profitably exist; but we should never attach that importance to them, that will lead to alienation of affection, or that will in the slightest degree mar our friendship.

Counsel and advice may be regarded as among the privileges of friendship. How often are these needed amid the labors, duties, and trials of life! Without them, life would often appear dreary-its labors burdensome. "Woe to him that is alone," is the language of the wise man; and it is full of import in the experience of him that is friendless. The same authority also assures us that as "ointment and perfume rojoice the heart, so does the sweetness of a friend by hearty counsel."

Reproof, too, is shared in friendship. This we often need amid our neglects and departures. Our Evil reports will often be circulated against our hearts are prone to stray from good. How strong friends; and these will frequently obtain currency are the tendencies of our unsanctified natures to among those we respect and love. We need, there- follow after evil! The voice of reproof comes to fore, great caution, and to be in constant watchfulquicken our sensibilities, restrain our waywardness, ness, lest they be suffered so far to influence our and check our wanderings. How peculiarly adapted minds as to weaken or destroy the ties of friendship.is friendship for administering necessary reproof! Before giving judgment, as to their truth or falsity,{"Faithful are the wounds of a friend." "Let the they should be thoroughly examined, and in the examination great care is necessary, lest we be swayed by prejudice or false testimony. Solomon says, "The words of a tale-bearer are as wounds." When believed, they will often sever every cord of affection among friends.

In our intercourse with friends we should always be open, frank, and honest. Nothing should be done with the appearance of concealment, or in a way to awaken suspicions of the purity or sincerity of our motives. Fairness and candor should stamp all our actions. Disingenuousness is the bane of friendship. Civility of manners, gentleness, an even and affable deportment should be prominent in our social intercourse. These tend to strengthen the bonds of friendship, and make more lasting the cords that bind us in harmony and love.

We must not desert our friends in seasons of danger and distress. Then they need sympathies, kindnesses, and help the most. It is then they have a strong claim on the attentions of friendship. It is perhaps a sad, afflictive, and unfortunate hour. The dark clouds of adversity hover around: danger threatens: the hearts warm with friendship appear, and every assistance is afforded within their power. Perchance misfortune comes and overwhelms the soul with grief. Nature is almost ready to yield under the heavy strokes of anguish. Now a friend appears "that sticketh closer than a brother." Friendship pours from its gushing fountain the oil of consolation and gladness into the sorrow-stricken heart, and it finds relief. How welcome friendship now!-far more refreshing to the wounded spirit, than are the cooling waters to the traveler, amid the sultry wanderings of the arid desert.

But we had designed to speak more particularly of the advantages of friendship, but having already noticed or anticipated some of them, it only now remains for us to glance at a few thoughts on this part of our subject, and close our remarks.

righteous smite me; it shall be as kindness: and let him reprove me; it shall be as excellent oil, which shall not break my head."

But friendship is always at hand, ever ready to administer to our necessities. Impartial and untiring, it visits the palace and the cottage alike-for it knows neither rank nor condition-and is unwearied in its efforts. It is always ready to lighten the burdens of life, and to shed a light, pure and unsullied, on our pathway. It lifts up the sinking spirit, and animates hope amid the most discouraging prospects of time. Its perennial hand is always ready. Godlike, indeed!

Much of the terror of the grave is destroyed, if we can but "fall asleep" in the arms of friendship. Friends cannot hold us to earth, but they can administer the richest consolations in the hour of dying. And when the spirit is fled, "devout men will carry us to our burial;" and should they not "make great lamentations over us," they may drop a tear at our resting-place.

Friends may part on earth, but friendship lives. Its richest blessings can only be fully enjoyed in the regions of light. It is destined to flourish in a richer soil-to live in a purer atmosphere. Commenced on earth, but perfected in heaven, there it will pour forth its richest treasures upon the "ransomed hosts." Let friendship, then, be ours-ours in time-ours for ever!

A SIMPLE belief in the existence of a God is not sufficient for the full realization of divine bliss. It is necessary that there should, likewise, be an adoration of his nature and attributes, and a lovesupreme love to him as Father and Friend. Dr. Young beautifully says:

"A Deity believed is joy begun :
A Deity adored is joy advanced:
A Deity beloved is joy matured."

THE DOMESTIC LIBRARY.

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