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Desirable Fame.

Fame, like the shadow, flees from him who pursues it, but treads on the heels of him who flees from it."

WILLIAM PENN furnishes a remarkable instance of the acquisition of solid and durable fame, by means which in their commencement appeared totally destructive of that end. When, upon arriving at man's estate, he embraced the religious principles of a new and despised Society, he must have considered himself, and been considered by others, as giving up all his prospects of eminence in the world. The mortification which his father experienced, upon discovering the choice he had made, unquestionably arose from a belief that he was renouncing the path of eminence and fame, for one of obscurity and reproach. To see his only son, the heir apparent of his fortune and fame, instead of pursuing the brilliant career which was opened before him, associating with a self-denying people, who were considered as the offscourings of the earth, was more than his philosophy could patiently bear. The pacific principles of the Society to which he was united, as well as the uncourtly character of their peculiar doctrines, must have formed, in the view of Admiral Penn, an insuperable barrier to the advancement of his son. He did not perceive that the magnanimity displayed in that very renunciation of eminence and fame, that inflexible adherence to the path of apprehended duty without regard to consequences, that preference to the whispers of an approving conscience above the noisy clamours of an applauding world, would assign him a station in the temple of fame, incomparably higher than that which the admiral had attained with all his heroism.

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DESIRABLE FAME.

The fame of William Penn, unlike that of most who have figured in the political field, appears likely to increase with the progress of time. The history of Pennsylvania is so intimately connected with the name of Wm. Penn, as to secure to the founder of that flourishing state a permanent place in the annals of fame. Of the admiral how little do we now hear. We find, indeed, that he commanded the fleet which in 1655 conquered Jamaica, and that in the Dutch War, in the reign of Charles II., he commanded under the Duke of York. It is also known to those who are well acquainted with historical facts, that the name of Penn was prefixed by Charles II. to that of Sylvania, as originally proposed, out of regard to the memory of the admiral, and not from the name of the proprietor. But it is with the son, and not with the father, that Pennsylvania is associated. Sir William Penn is remembered chiefly as the father of the Quaker legislator, and holds from that connection a larger place in the view of posterity than from any other cause. While the name of the father is merged in the countless mass of military characters who are seldom mentioned or thought of, the name of the son stands conspicuous among the greatest benefactors of our race. The history of the province which bears his name, proves conclusively the superiority of the gospel plan above the policy of the world. He has had the honour of proving that the tomahawk and scalping knife of the savage may be stripped of their terrors by the lenient spirit of the gospel. Which would the most eager aspirants after fame prefer, if they could command it with a wish, to be Admiral Penn, with the scanty rays of military renown that now surround his memory, or to be Willam Penn, the Quaker founder of Pennsylvania, whose wise and benevolent institutions gave a favourable impetus to the legislation of the western world; whose bloodless conquests have been celebrated by poets and historians; whose name is transmitted with reverence from generation to generation, amongst the untutored

inhabitants of the wilderness; whose character is most admired where it is best understood; and who, when the day arrives "in which nation shall no longer lift up sword against nation," will be remembered as one who gave the influence of eminent abilities and a conspicuous station, to promote the advancement of the Messiah's peaceful reign.

E. LEWIS.

Che Tempest.

J. T. FIELDS.

WE were crowded in the cabin,
Not a soul would dare to sleep,-

It was midnight on the waters,
And a storm was on the deep.

'Tis a fearful thing, in winter
To be shattered in the blast,
And to hear the rattling trumpet,
Thunder, "Cut away the mast!"

So we shuddered there in silence,—

For the stoutest held his breath,-
While the hungry sea was roaring,
And the breakers talked with Death.

As thus we sat in darkness,

Each one busy in his prayers,
"We are lost!" the captain shouted,
As he staggered down the stairs.

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WHO IS THY NEIGHBOUR.

But his little daughter whispered,
As she took his icy hand,
"Is 'nt God upon the ocean,
Just the same as on the land?"

Then we kissed the little maiden,
And we spoke in better cheer,
And we anchored safe in harbour,
When the moon was shining clear.

Who is thy Neighbour?

THY neighbour? It is he whom thou
Hast power to aid and bless;
Whose aching heart and burning brow,
Thy soothing hand may press.

Thy neighbour? 'Tis the fainting poor,
Whose eye with want is dim,
Whom hunger sends from door to door :-
Go thou and succour him.

Thy neighbour? 'Tis the weary man
Whose years are at the brim,
Bent low with sickness, cares and pain,
Go thou and comfort him.

Thy neighbour? 'Tis the heart bereft
Of every earthly gem:

Widow and orphan helpless left;

Go thou and shelter them.

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WHO IS THY NEIGHBOUR.

Thy neighbour? Yonder toiling slave,
Fettered in thought and limb,

Whose thoughts are all beyond the grave,
Go thou and ransom him.

Where'ere thou meet'st a human form,
Less favored than thine own,
Remember 'tis thy neighbour worm,
Thy brother or thy son.

Oh pass not, pass not heedless by:
Perhaps thou can'st redeem
The breaking heart from misery,
Go share thy lot with him.

Methinks if you would know,

How visitations of calamity

Affect the pious soul, 'tis shown you there!

Look yonder at that cloud, which, through the sky
Sailing along, doth cross in her career

The rolling moon! I watched it as it came,

And deemed the deep opaque would blot her beams.
But melting, like a wreath of snow, it hangs
In folds of wavy silver round, and clothes
The orb with richer beauties than her own:
Then passing leaves her in her light serene.

SOUTHEY.