IN the same brook none ever bathed him twice;
To the same life none ever twice awoke.

We call the brook the same; the same we think
Our life, though still more rapid in its flow;
Nor mark the much irrevocably lapsed,
And mingled with the sea.

THE lapse of time and rivers is the same;
Both speed their journey with a restless stream;
The silent pace with which they steal away,
No wealth can bribe, no prayers, to stay away;

L

Alike irrevocable both when past,

And a wide ocean swallows both at last.
Though each resemble each in every part,
A difference strikes at length the musing heart;

Streams never flow in vain; where streams abound, How laughs the land with various plenty crown'd! But time, that should enrich the nobler mind, Neglected, leaves a dreary waste behind.

OUR lives are rivers, gliding free
To that unfathomed, boundless sea,
The silent grave!

LIFE COMPARED TO A RIVER.

Thither all earthly pomp and boast
Roll, to be swallowed up and lost
In one dark wave.

Thither the mighty torrents stray,
Thither the brook pursues its way,

And tinkling rill.

There all are equal. Side by side
The poor man and the son of pride.
Lie calm and still.

AND see the rivers how they run,

Through woods and meads, in shade and sun:
Sometimes swift, sometimes slow,

Wave succeeding wave, they go

A various journey to the deep,

Like human life to death's long sleep.

De

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EVENING PRAYER AT A GIRLS' SCHOOL.

USH! 't is a holy hour-the quiet room

Seems like a temple, while yon soft lamp sheds
A faint and starry radiance through the gloom

And the sweet stillness, down on fair young heads,
With all their clust'ring locks, untouched by care,
And bowed, as flowers are bowed with night, in prayer.

Gaze on 't is lovely! Childhood's lip and cheek

Mantling beneath its earnest brow of thought;
Gaze-yet what seest thou in those fair, and meek,
And fragile things, as but for sunshine wrought ?—
Thou seest what grief must nurture for the sky,
What death must fashion for Eternity!

Oh! joyous creatures! that will sink to rest
Lightly, when those pure orisons are done,
As birds with slumber's honey-dew opprest,

'Midst the dim-folded leaves at set of sun. Lift up your hearts! though yet no sorrow lies Dark in the summer-heaven of those clear eyes.

Though fresh within your breasts th' untroubled springs
Of Hope make melody where'er ye tread,
And o'er your sleep bright shadows, from the wings
Of spirits visiting but youth, be spread-

Yet in those flute-like voices, mingling low,
Is woman's tenderness-how soon her woe!

WIT AND WISDOM CONTRASTED.

Her look is on you-silent tears to weep,

And patient smiles to wear through suffering's hour,
And sumless riches, from affection's deep,

To pour on broken reeds-a wasted shower!
And to make idols, and to find them clay,
And to bewail that worship-therefore pray!

Her lot is on you-to be found untired,

Watching the stars out by the bed of pain,
With a pale cheek, and yet a brow inspired,

And a true heart of hope, though hope be vain ;
Meekly to bear with wrong, to cheer decay,
And, oh! to love through all things-therefore pray!

And take the thought of this calm vesper time,

With its low murmuring sounds and silvery light,
On through the dark days fading from their prime,
As a sweet due to keep your souls from blight!
Earth will forsake-oh! happy to have given
Th' unbroken heart's first fragrance unto Heaven.

WIT AND WISDOM CONTRASTED.

THE path to bliss abounds with many a snare :
Learning is one, and wit, however rare.

The Frenchman, first in literary fame,

(Mention him, if you please. Voltaire -The same.)

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