NOTES.-5. Cedars of Lebanon. A species of cedar, of great magnificence, formerly abundant in Mt. Lebanon and the Taurus Range in Asia Minor, but now almost entirely destroyed. The wood is durable and fragrant, and was used in the construction of costly buildings, such as the palace of David and Solomon's. Temple.

7. Leviathan. This name is applied in the Old Testament to some huge water animal. In some cases it appears to mean the crocodile, but in others the whale or a large sea-serpent.

LII. MY MOTHER.

1. OFTEN into folly straying,

O, my mother! how I've grieved her!
Oft I've heard her for me praying,
Till the gushing tears relieved her;
And she gently rose and smiled,
Whispering, "God will keep my child."

2. She was youthful then, and sprightly,
Fondly on my father leaning,

Sweet she spoke, her eyes shone brightly,
And her words were full of meaning;
Now, an Autumn leaf decayed;
I, perhaps, have made it fade.

3. But, whatever ills betide thee,
Mother, in them all I share;
In thy sickness watch beside thee,
And beside thee kneel in prayer.
Best of mothers! on my breast
Lean thy head, and sink to rest.

LIII. THE HOUR OF PRAYER.

Felicia Dorothea Hemans (b. 1794, d. 1835) was born in Liverpool, England. Her maiden name was Browne. Her childhood was spent in Wales. Her first volume of poems was published in 1808; her second in 1812. In 1812 she was married to Captain Hemans, but he left her about six years after their marriage, and they never again lived together. She then went, with her five sons, to reside with her mother, then living near St. Asaph, in North Wales. Mrs. Hemans now resumed her literary pursuits, and wrote much and well. Her poetry is smooth and graceful, and she excels in description. Many of her poems are exceedingly beautiful.

1. CHILD, amid the flowers at play,
While the red light fades away;
Mother, with thine earnest eye,
Ever following silently;
Father, by the breeze at eve
Called thy harvest work to leave;
Pray! Ere yet the dark hours be,
Lift the heart, and bend the knee.

2. Traveler, in the stranger's land,
Far from thine own household band;
Mourner, haunted by the tone
Of a voice from this world gone;
Captive, in whose narrow cell
Sunshine hath not leave to dwell;
Sailor, on the darkening sea;

Lift the heart and bend the knee.

3. Warrior, that from battle won,
Breathest now at set of sun;
Woman, o'er the lowly slain
Weeping on his burial plain;
Ye that triumph, ye that sigh,
Kindred by one holy tie,
Heaven's first star alike ye see;

Lift the heart, and bend the knee.

LIV. THE WILL.

Characters.-SWIPES, a brewer; CURRIE, a saddler; FRANK MILLINGTON; and SQUIRE DRAWL.

Who

Swipes. A SOBER occasion, this, brother Currie. would have thought the old lady was so near her end? Currie. Ah! we must all die, brother Swipes; and those who live the longest outlive the most.

Swipes. True, true; but, since we must die and leave our earthly possessions, it is well that the law takes such good care of us. Had the old lady her senses when she

departed?

Cur. Perfectly, perfectly. Squire Drawl told me she read every word of the will aloud, and never signed her name better.

Swipes. Had you any hint from the Squire what disposition she made of her property?

Cur. Not a whisper; the Squire is as close as an underground tomb: but one of the witnesses hinted to me that she had cut off her graceless nephew, Frank, without a shilling.

Swipes. Has she, good soul, has she? You know I come in, then, in right of my wife.

Cur. And I in my own right; and this is no doubt the reason why we have been called to hear the reading of the will. Squire Drawl knows how things should be done, though he is as air-tight as one of your beer-barrels. But here comes the young reprobate.

He must be present, [Enter FRANK MILLINGSo your bene

as a matter of course, you know.
TON.] Your servant, young gentleman.
factress has left you at last.

Swipes. It is a painful thing to part with old and good friends, Mr. Millington.

Frank. It is so, sir; but I could bear her loss better

had I not so often been ungrateful for her kindness. She was my only friend, and I knew not her value.

Cur. It is too late to repent, Master Millington. You will now have a chance to earn your own bread.

Swipes. Ay, ay, by the sweat of your brow, as better people are obliged to. You would make a fine brewer's

boy, if you were not too old.

Cur. Ay, or a saddler's lackey, if held with a tight rein. Frank. Gentlemen, your remarks imply that my aunt has treated me as I deserved. I am above your insults, and only hope you will bear your fortune as modestly as I shall mine submissively. I shall retire. [Going: he meets SQUIRE DRAWL.]

Squire. Stop, stop, young man. We must have your presence. Good morning, gentlemen; you are early on the ground.

Cur. I hope the Squire is well to-day.

Squire. Pretty comfortable, for an invalid.

Swipes. I trust the damp air has not affected your lungs again.

Squire. No, I believe not. But, since the heirs-at-law are all convened, I shall now proceed to open the last will and testament of your deceased relative, according to law.

Swipes. [While the Squire is breaking the seal.] It is a trying thing to leave all one's possessions, Squire, in this

manner.

Cur. It really makes me feel melancholy when I look around and see every thing but the venerable owner of these goods. Well did the preacher say, "All is vanity."

Squire. Please to be seated, gentlemen. [He puts on his spectacles, and begins to read slowly.] "Imprimis; whereas, my nephew, Francis Millington, by his disobedience and ungrateful conduct, has shown himself unworthy of my bounty, and incapable of managing my large estate, I do hereby give and bequeath all my houses, farms, stocks,

bonds, moneys, and property, both personal and real, to my dear cousins, Samuel Swipes, of Malt Street, brewer, and Christopher Currie, of Fly Court, saddler." [The SQUIRE here takes off his spectacles, and begins to wipe them very leisurely.]

Swipes. Generous creature! kind soul! I always loved

her!

Cur. She was good, she was kind;—and, brother Swipes, when we divide, I think I'll take the mansion-house. Swipes. Not so fast, if you please, Mr. Currie. My wife has long had her eye upon that, and must have it.

Cur. There will be two words to that bargain, Mr. Swipes. And, besides, I ought to have the first choice. Did I not lend her a new chaise every time she wished to ride? And who knows what influence

Swipes. Am I not named first in her will? and did I not furnish her with my best small beer for more than six months? And who knows

Frank. Gentlemen, I must leave you. [Going.]

Squire [Putting on his spectacles very deliberately.] Pray, gentlemen, keep your seats, I have not done yet. Let me see; where was I? Ay, "All my property, both personal and real, to my dear cousins, Samuel Swipes, of Malt Street, brewer,"

Swipes. Yes!

Squire. "And Christopher Currie, of Fly Court, saddler,” Cur. Yes!

Squire. "To have and to hold, IN TRUST, for the sole and exclusive benefit of my nephew, Francis Millington, until he shall have attained the age of twenty-one years, by which time I hope he will have so far reformed his evil habits, as that he may safely be intrusted with the large fortune which I hereby bequeath to him.”

Swipes. What is all this? You do n't mean that we are humbugged? In trust! How does that appear? Where is it?