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friend was sick, or in gaol, out came his purse, and then his creditors might go whistle. Now if he had married a woman with money, you know, why then . . . . .”
The supplicant turned pale, and would have fainted. Jacob was alarmed; not that he sympathized, but a wo man's fainting was a scene that he had not been used to; besides there was an awkwardness about it; for Jacob was a bachelor.
Sixty summers had passed over his head without imparting a ray of warmth to his heart; without exciting one tender feeling for the sex, deprived of whose cheering presence, the paradise of the world were a wilderness of weeds. -So he desperately extracted a crown piece from the depth profound, and thrust it hastily into her hand. The action recalled her wandering senses. She blushed:-it was the honest blush of pride at the meanness of the gift. She curt'sied; staggered towards the door; opened it; closed it; raised her hand to her forehead, and burst into tears. ****
The Highlander.-W. GILLESPIE.
Many years ago, a poor Highland soldier, on his return to his native hills, fatigued, as it was supposed, by the length of the march and the heat of the weather, sat down under the shade of a birch-tree, on the solitary road of Lowrin, that winds along the margin of Loch Ken, in Galloway. Here he was found dead, and this incident forms the subject of the following verses.
FROM the climes of the sun, all war-worn and weary,
Though fierce was the noon-beam and steep was the road.
Till spent with the march that still lengthened before him,
He sunk to repose where the red heaths are blended,
No arm in the day of the conflict could wound him,
The Harvest Moon.-W. MILLAR.
Beams gladness on the gazer's eye,
Thou shinest bright as cloudless noon,
Before thy glory-Harvest moon!
In the deep stillness of the night,
The wood-the lawn—the mountain's breast,
Far down upon the silent world.
That round the dim horizon brood,
The dewy fields, and silent grove,
Lo! scattered wide beneath thy throne,
'O! let thy cloudless glory shed
Shine on, fair orb of light! and smile
He bore in summer's sultry ray;
Tired with the burning heat of noon, They'll come with spirits light and gay, And bless thee-lovely Harvest Moon!
Thalaba among the ruins of Babylon.-SOUTHEY.
THE many-coloured domes*
When through the gate the early traveller pass'd.
* Of Bagdad.
Work of imperial dotage? Where the fane
Spreads o'er the blasted plain.
Through the broken portal,
The dangerous ground before him with his bow.
Twilight and moonshine, dimly mingling, gave
The moon still pale and faint,-
Broken by many a mass of blackest shade;
Long columns stretching dark through weeds and moss,
And of their former shape, low-arched or square,
Reclined against a column's broken shaft,
He stood and gazed awhile,
THE Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments agree in enjoining prayer. Let no man call himself a Christian, who lives without giving a part of life to this duty. We are not taught how often we must pray; but our Lord in teaching us to say, "Give us this day our daily bread,” implies that we should pray daily. As to the particular hours to be given to this duty, every Christian may choose them for himself. Our religion is too liberal and spiritual to bind us to any place or any hour of prayer. But there are parts of the day particularly favourable to this duty, and which, if possible, should be redeemed for it.
The first of these periods is the morning, which even nature seems to have pointed out to men of different religions, as a fit time for offerings to the Divinity. In the morning our minds are not so much shaken by worldly cares and pleasures, as in other parts of the day. Retirement and sleep have helped to allay the violence of our feelings, to calm the feverish excitement so often produced by intercourse with men. The hour is a still one. The hurry and tumults of life are not begun, and we naturally share in the tranquillity around us. Having for so many hours lost our hold on the world, we can banish it more easily from the mind, and worship with less divided attention. This, then, is a favourable time for approaching the invisible Author of our being, for strengthening the intimacy of our minds with him, for thinking upon a future life, and for seeking those spiritual aids which we need in the labours and temptations of every day.
In the morning there is much to feed the spirit of devotion. It offers an abundance of thoughts, friendly to pious feeling. When we look on creation, what a happy and touching change do we witness! A few hours past, the earth was wrapt in gloom and silence. There seemed "a pause