ment in all its variety; her stores for the support of life; her magazines of quiescent death.

And they

who so fearlessly trod her decks, conscious of their own powers and confident in their own skill; they who expanded her thousands of yards of canvas to the pursuing breeze, or reduced them, like magic, at the approaching storm where are they now? How many sighs have been lavished at their absence! how many hearths would have been gladdened by their return! Where are the hopes, the fears, the ambition, and the pride; the courage and the enterprise; the love and the yearnings after their kin; the speculations of the present and the calculations of the future, which occupied their minds, or were cherished in their bosoms? All all wrecked!

Marryat.

HABITS are the daughters of action, but they nurse their mother, and give birth to daughters after her image, more lovely and prosperous.

Jeremy Taylor.

THE NEW PHILOSOPHY.

Ask a follower of Bacon what the new philosophy, as it was called in the time of Charles the Second, has effected for mankind, and his answer is ready" It has lengthened life; it has mitigated pain; it has extinguished diseases; it has increased the fertility of the soil; it has given new securities to the mariner; it has furnished new arms to the warrior; it has spanned great rivers and estuaries with bridges of form unknown to our fathers; it has guided the thunderbolt innocuously from heaven to earth; it has lighted up the night with the splendour of the day; it has extended the range of the human vision; it has multiplied the power of the human muscles; it has accelerated motion; it has annihilated distance; it has facilitated intercourse, correspondence, all friendly offices, all despatch of business; it has enabled man to descend to the depths of the sea, to soar into the air, to penetrate securely into the

noxious recesses of the earth, to traverse the land on cars which whirl along without horses, and the ocean in ships which sail against the wind. These are but a part of its fruits, and of its first-fruits. For it is a philosophy which never rests, which has never attained, which is never perfect. Its law is progress. A point which was yesterday invisible is its goal to-day, and will be its starting-post to-morrow."

Macaulay.

THE flower is the beautiful nest in which the plant cradles its young, lulling them with odours, and feeding them with honey.

THE ticking of a clock may be considered as Old Time with his chisel chipping off a portion of our existence.

L

THE WISH TO DIE.

My mother, look not on me now

With that sad earnest eye;

Blame me not, mother

My heart's last wish

blame not thou

to die!

I cannot wrestle with the strife

I once had heart to bear; And if I yield a youthful life, Full hath it been of care.

Nay, weep not! on my brow is set
The age of grief — not years;
Its furrows thou may'st wildly wet,

But ne'er wash out with tears.

And couldst thou see my weary heart,
Too weary e'en to sigh,

Oh, mother, mother! thou would'st start say, ""Twere best to die!"

And

I know 'tis Summer on the earth
I hear a pleasant tune,

Of waters in their chiming mirth

I feel the breath of June;

The roses through the lattice look,
The bee goes singing by,

The peasant takes his harvest-hook
Yet, mother, let me die!

There's nothing in this time of flowers
That hath a voice for me

The whispering leaves, the sunny hours,
The bright, the glad, the free!
There's nothing but thy own deep love,
And that will live on high;

Then mother! when my heart's above,

Kind mother, let me die!

Miss Jewsbury.

THE mind revives in solitude.

Fresh airs blow

down upon it from the green hills and gardens of

fancy.