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the severity of the weather, being extremely hardy. When loaded with fruit, it makes a most delightful appearance. There is another variety of this species of Service, that grows naturally in the south of France, in Italy, and in most of the southern countries of Europe, where its fruit is served up as a dessert.”—HUNTER.
“The wood is soft, tough, and solid-excellent for hoops and for bows next to yew. It is converted into tables, spokes for wheels, shafts, chains, &c. The roots are formed into handles for knives and wooden spoons. The berries dried and reduced to powder, make wholesome bread, and an ardent spirit may be distilled from them, which has a fine flavour, but it is small in quantity. The berries too, infused in water, make an acid liquor something like Perry, which is drunk by the poorer people in Wales. This tree appears to have been highly esteemed by the Druids, and is still found more frequently than any other in the neighbourhood of Druidical circles in the Scotch Highlands. Dr. Pulteney informs us that even in these more enlightened times, the natives of the north believe in the efficacy of a small branch carried about them as a charm against witchcraft and enchantment. In one part of Scotland the sheep and lambs are on May Day made to pass through a hoop of Roan-wood.”
HYMNS AND POETICAL RECREATIONS.
Come, for all things are now ready.-Luke xiv. 17.
In moments that should seem so blest,
Has welcomed thee, his happy guest?
Why stand thus gazing on the door,
And listing to the storm without ?
Its menaces can reach thee not.
His canopy is o'er thy head
His mantle is about thy breast
Why not sit down and be at rest?
What would I more? O pardon, Lord,
That yet content I seat me not~
And those I love are still without.
Long have I looked upon that door
And watched, and still, and still there's room And many a guest has entered in
But still the loved ones do not come. Send forth thy messengers again
Or ere they close that fatal gate; There yet is room
- bid them try. If haply they may find them yelmes
While others seat them at thy side,
And sing their carols o'er thy feast, Here let me stand in suppliant guise,
A grateful, but a mourning guest.
And O forgive-again forgive !
If bidden to honour so undue, I cannot sit me down in peace,
Till those I love are welcomed too.
From forth the exile's tent,
Their hours of banishment
Whose deep, and melancholy wires,
By sin, by sorrow wrung, Reverbrate every touch of woe
As if they loved the song
Say, shall the harp of poesy
That sorrow loves so much,
Not answer to the touch ?
What joy? O such as Angels share
Above yon arch of Heaven-
And welcom'd, and forgiven
The sun, so long, so darkly veil'd
In midnight's blackest shroud, Upon the rapt and ravish'd eye
Arisen without a cloud
O if there be upon my harp
One string that joy may claim,
Wake it with Jesus' name
And let the musick of its voice
Be like the Sky-Lark's lay,
He hails returning day
Or rather let it be like that
Which spirits sing in Heaven,
Of mortal sins forgiven.
My heart was weary, faint, and sad,
And heavy stole the hours;
That once was strew'd with flow'rs.
I would have drunk the opiate draught
The world had giv'n before :
The world could fill no more.
On the cold pillow of the tomb
I would have laid my head;
Denied the earthy bed.
Was Heav'n regardless of the prayer?
Oh no! From stores above,
And told me, "God is love!'
Such love, as soothes my soul to peace,
And gave me back to bliss,
In fairer worlds than this.
MY AIN FIRE-SIDE.
My ain fire-side, my ain fire-side,
Ance mair, Guid be thankit! by my ain heartsome ingle,
Ane's ain fire-side, ane's ain fire-side,
When I draw in my stool on my cozie hearth-stane,
My ain fire-side, my ain fire-side,
SUPPOSED ELIZABETH HAMILTON.
Romans v. 2.
COME, O my soul, and for a while retreat
From this poor world, and raise thy thoughts on high : Come and bow down before Jehovah's feet,
And lift to Him thy supplicating eye; And watch till thou his beaming glory see, Shine from between the cherubim on thee.