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Stops, and looks back, and stops, and looks on man,
His iron-armed hoofs gleam in the morning ray. 4. But chiefly man the day of rest enjoys.
Hail, Sabbath! thee I hail, the poor man's day.
With covered face, and upward, earnèst eye.
The pale mechanic now has leave to breathe
That heaven may be one Sabbath without end. 6. But now his steps a welcome sound recalls :
Solemn the knell, from yonder ancient pile,
Until the man of God, worthy the name,
The stated portion reads. A pause ensues.
Then swells into a diäpāson · full :
And fill the eye with pity's gentle tears.
The halleluiahs' of the choir. Sublime
JAMES GRAHAME. REV JAMES GRAHAME was born in Glasgow, Scotland, in 1765. He studied law and practiced at the Scottish bar several years, but afterward took orders in the Church of England, and was successively curate of Shipton, in Gloucestershire, and of Sedgefield, in the county of Durham. Ill health compelled him to
'Diapason, (di'a på’zon), in music, an octave apart; harmony. the octave or interval which includes ? Halleluiah, (hål'le lu' yå), praise all the tones; concord, as of notes ye Jehovah ; give praises to God.
abandon his curacy when his virtues and talents had attracted notice and ren. dered him a popular and useful preacher; and on revisiting Scotland, he died September 14th, 1811. His works consist of “Mary, Queen of Scotland," a diramatic poem, published in 1801 ; “The Sabbath,” from which the above selection is taken ; “Sabbath Walks," “ Biblical Pictures," "The Birds of Scotland," and “British Georgics," all in blank verse. “The Sabbath" is the best of his produ ns. The poet was modest and devout, though sometimes
in his seriousness. His prevailing tone, however, is that of implicit trust in the goodness of God, and enjoyment in his creātion.
9. MATERNAL AFFECTION.
OMAN'S' charms are certainly many and powerful. The
expanding rose just bursting into beauty has an irresistible bewitchingnèss; the blooming bride led triumphantly to the hy'menē'al altar awākens admiration and interest, and the blush of her cheek fills with delight; but the charm of maternity is more sublime than all these.
2. Heaven has imprinted in the mother's face something beyond this world, something which claims kindred with the skies, -the angelic smile, the tender look, the waking, watchful eye, which keeps its fond vigil over her slumbering babe.
3. These are objects which nēither the pencil nor the chisel can touch, which poëtry fails to exalt, which the most eloquent tongue in vain would eulogize, and on which all description becomes ineffective. In the heart of man lies this lovely picture; it lives in his sympathies ; it reigns in his affections ; his eye looks round in vain for such another object on earth.
4. Maternity, ecstatic sound! so twined round our hearts, that they must cease to throb ere we forget it! 'tis our first love ; 'tis part of our religion. Nature has set the mother upon such a pinnacle, that our infant eyes and arms are first uplifted to it; we cling to it in manhood; we almost worship it in old age.
5. He who can enter an apartment, and behold the tender babe feeding on its mother's beauty-nourished by the tide of life which flows through her generous veins, without a panting bosom and a grateful eye, is no man, but a monster. He who can approach the cradle of sleeping innocence without thinking that “of such is the kingdom of heaven!” or see the fond parent Woman, (wům' an).
side one's self; delightful beyond * Ec stăt' ic, rendering one be
hang over its beauties, and half retain her breath lest she should break its slumbers, without a veneration beyond all common feeling, is to be avoided in ěvery intercourse of life, and is fit önly for the shadow of darkness and the solitude of the desert.
10. THE GOOD WIFE.
THE heart of a man, with whom affection is not a name, and
love a mere passion of the hour, yearns toward the quiet of a home, as toward the goal of his earthly joy and hope. And as you fasten there your thought, an indulgent, yet dreamy fancy paints the loved image that is to adorn it, and to make it sācred.
2. She is there to bid you—Gòd speed ! and an ădieū, that hangs like music on your ear, as you go out to the every-day labor of life. At evening, she is there to greet you, as you come back wearied with a day's toil; and her look so full of gladness, cheats you of your fatigue ; and she steals her arm around you, with a soul of welcome, that beams like sunshine on her brow and that fills your eye with tears of a twin gratitude—to her, and Heaven.
3. She is not unmindful of those old-fashioned virtues of cleanliness and of order, which give an air of quiet, and which secure content. Your wants are all anticipated; the fire is burning brightly; the clean hearth flashes under the joyous blaze ; the old elbow-chair is in its place. Your věry unworthiness of all this haunts you like an accusing spirit, and yet penetrates your heart with a new devotion toward the loved one who is thus watchful of
comfort. 4. She is gentle ;-keeping your love, as she has won it, by a thousand nameless and modèst virtues, which rādiäte from her whole life and action. She steals upon your affections like a summer wind breathing softly over sleeping valleys. She gains a mastery over your sterner nature, by věry contrast; and wins you unwittingly to her lightest wish. And yet her wishes are guided by that delicate tact, which avoids conflict with your manly pride ; she subdues, by seeming to yield. By a single soft word of appeal, she robs your vexation of its anger ; and with a slight touch of that fair hand, and one pleading look of that earnest eye, she disarms your sternest pride.
5. She is kind ;—shedding her kindness, as Heaven sheds dew. Who indeed could doubt it?lēast of all, you who are living on her kindness, day by day, as flowers live on light? There is none of that officious parade, which blunts the point of benevolence; but it tempers every action with a blessing.
6. If trouble has come upon you, she knows that her voice, beguiling you into cheerfulness, will lay your fears ; and as she draws her chair beside you, she knows that the tender and confiding way with which she takes your hand and looks up into your earnest face, will drive ăway from your annoyance all its weight. As she lingers, leading off your thought with pleasant words, she knows well that she is redeeming you from care, and soothing you to that sweet calm, which such home and such wife can ălone bestow.
7. And in sickness,-sickness that you almost covet for the sympathy it brings,—that hand of hers resting on your fevered forehead, or those fingers playing with the scattered locks, are more full of kindness than the loudest vaunt of friends; and when your failing strength will permit no more, you grasp that cherished hand, with a fullness of joy, of thankfulness, and of love, which your tears only can tell.
8. She is good ;-her hopes live where the angels live. Her kindness and gentleness are sweetly tempered with that meekness and forbearance which are born of Faith. Trust comes into her heart as rivers come to the sea. And in the dark hours of doubt and foreboding, you rest fondly upon her buoyant faith, as the treasure of your common life; and in your holier musings, you look to that frail hand, and that gentle spirit, to lead you away from the vanities of worldly ambition, to the fullness of . that joy which the good inherit.
D. G. MITCHELL. DONALD G. MITCHELL was born in Norwich, Connecticut, April, 1822. His father was the pastor of the Congregational church of that place, and his grandfather a member of the first Congress at Philadelphia, and for many years Chief-justice of the Supreme Court of Connecticut. Mr. Mitchell graduated in due course, at Yale, in 1841. His health being feeble, he passed the three following years in the country, where he became much interested in agriculture, and wrote a number of letters to the “Cultivator," at Albany. He gained a silver cup from the New York Agricultural Society, as a prize for a plan of farm buildings. He next crossed the ocean, and after remaining about two years in Europe, returned home, and soon after published “Fresh Gleanings.” In 1850, after his return from a second visit to Europe, he published “The Battle Summer," containing personal observations in Paris during the year 1848. He has since published the “Reveries of a Bachelor," "Drcam Life," "Fudge Doings,"