yet the sense seemed so exalted that I could discover a thousand strange beauties in the most simple objects. Gradually a full consciousness of the past returned. A new state of being, a new capacity for life and happiness, and higher associations had not power to efface the few records of existence traced upon the soul by love and suffering. I will not attempt to portray the beauty that surrounded me; a beauty that, instead of asking the aid of the imagination to render it perfect, called for the continual expansion of the soul in order to appreciate and enjoy it. With my past existence there was such a strong connecting link that I constantly reverted to it as though the chain was not yet complete.

"I knew that I had lived, had loved, had suffered, and out of it had grown a holier life and a purer joy, but not all for myself. Because I had loved without the ordinary compensation, a thousand generous hearts were yet to love unforbidden. My life-path had been strewn with thorns, but multitudes were in that same path to gather roses. Yet there was a spirit linked with my destiny, on whom even more had been laid. As I looked back through a shadowy portal, I saw two figures before the archway of an ivy-clad ruin, a young maid seated on a flag-stone, and a youth of noble mein, half kneeling, present her a flower-token of love. That love set the signet upon his destiny. It was the unsealing of a fountain from whence flowed a mingled current, sweet as the nectar of gods, bitter as gall and wormwood."

She paused and hid her face for a moment, then raised it suffused with tears.

I saw those limbs fettered. I heard a sigh as of a breaking heart -I saw the strong man rise up and, Sampson like, shake off his chains, and do battle for the sighing ones of earth. To them he seemed like a lone blighted tree, yet mighty in his desolation; but the eye of love watched over him, and when a bitter potion was wrung out by the hand of oppression, an unseen spirit removed it from his lips, and in its stead proffered the nectar of a heavenly love. I may not tell you more. You must judge whether it is worth a second thought— and if so, whether you will choose to drink of the mingled cup."

Henry took her hand in his, raised it to his lips, and reverently said:

"I willingly take upon my heart the doom that may await it, if a love like yours, both on earth and in heaven, is to be the recompense. So may I find strength to meet it without a murmur.”

A few moments after, when their companions returned, they found Henry busy preparing a nosegay for Aunt Anna, while Alice sat leaning her forehead upon her hand, as though suffering from weariness.

ALL poets pretend to write for immortality, but the whole tribe have no objection to present pay, and present praise. Lord Burleigh is not the only statesman, who has thought one hundred pounds too much for a song, though sung by Spencer; although Oliver Goldsmith is the only poet who ever considered himself overpaid. The reward in this arena is not to the swift, nor the prize to the strong. Editors have gained more pounds by publishing Milton's works, than he ever gained pence by writing them; and Garrick has reaped a richer harvest in a single night, by acting in one play of Shakspeare's, than that poet himself obtained by the genius which inspired the whole of them.

A WISE minister would rather preserve peace than gain a victory; because he knows, that even the most successful war leaves nations generally more poor, always more profligate, than it found them. There are real evils that cannot be brought into a list of indemnities, and the demoralizing influence of war is not among the least of them. The triumphs of truth are the most glorious, chiefly because they are the most bloodless of all victories, deriving their highest luster from the number of the saved, not of the slain.

THE LILY AND THE ROSE.

Translated from the German of Herder.

BY MELANIE.

*SAY to me, ye beautiful daughters of the rough dark earth, who gave you your graceful forms? for truly, you were fashioned by delicate fingers. What sweet perfume arises as if a thousand tiny fairies were mounting up from your flower cups! And what joy have you felt while the little goddesses were rocking themselves upon your leaves!

Say to me, friendly blossoms, how did they distribute among themselves their joyous tasks, and lean to each other, while they so skillfully spun, so skillfully adorned and embroidered their delicate texture?

But you are silent, lovely flowers, and refuse to tell me aught of your existence. Well, then! the instructive fable shall recount to me what your lips are unwilling to reveal.

There was a time when the earth stood upon the naked rock, and friendly nymphs carried the virgin soil upon it, and the kind genii were ready to deck the barren earth with flowers. Variously they divided their tasks among themselves. Beautiful amid the snow, and in the small cold grass, modest Humility began, and wove the retiring violet. Hope trod close behind her, and filled, with grateful odors, the little cups of the refreshing hyacinth. Since these succeeded so well, a proud, gorgeous train of many-colored beauties

*The language of the above translation is very graphic, and the figures strikingly beautiful, but, if regarded literally, the sentiment is heathenish. We wish, therefore, that our readers would regard it as conveying truth and instruction by means of the fable.

While remarking upon this subject, we cannot avoid observing, that too much of the spirit of pagan mythology, which scholars early drink in from the immortal classics of Greece and Rome, is infused into the polite literature of all modern nations, and we cannot be too guarded against the silent but subtle influence it exerts upon our opinions.-[EDITOR OF MAGAZINE.

immediately followed. The tulip raised its head, the narcissus bloomed beneath with languishing eye. Many other goddesses and nymphs busied themselves, in various ways adorning the earth, and rejoicing over their beautiful creations.

glory and

"Why do

Arise, and

And lo, when a large portion of their work, with its delight had faded away, Venus spoke to her graces, also. ye tarry, why are ye idle, O sisters of gracefulness? weave of your charms too, a mortal, visible blossom." down together, and Aglaia, the Grace of Purity, formed the lily. Thalia and Euphrosyne, with sisterly hands, wove that flower of joy and love, the Virgin Rose.

They went

Many of the flowers of the field and garden envied one another; the lily and the rose envied none, but were envied by all, as sisterlike they bloomed together in Flora's garden; for sister Graces had woven them conjointly.

POWER, like the diamond, dazzles the beholder, and also the wearer; it dignifies meanness; it magnifies littleness; to what is contemptible, it gives authority; to what is low, exaltation. To acquire it, appears not more difficult than to be dispossessed of it when acquired, since it enables the holder to shift his own errors on dependents, and to take their merits to himself. But the miracle of losing it vanishes, when we reflect that we are as liable to fall as to rise, by the treachery of others; and that to say "I am," is language that has been appropriated exclusively to God!

SECRECY of design, when combined with rapidity of execution, like the column that guided Israel in the deserts, becomes the guardian pillar of light and fire to our friends, a cloud of overwhelming and impenetrable darkness to our enemies.

OUR HEAVENLY FATHER.

Original.

BY A BELIEVER

IN SPECIAL

PROVIDENCE.

No feature of our blessed religion, has ever impressed me so sweetly, as the parental relation which the Creator condescends to sustain toward us, his erring creatures.

Indeed, this parental care, extending to every individual of the race, was the greatest of the distinguishing traits between the Mosaic dispensation, and the most refined of the heathen systems of his day. Not that it was fully revealed by Moses, for he seems to have conveyed the idea that there were peculiar favors for one race, to the exclusion, to some extent, of others. Still, the accountability of man was fully shown, though less as resulting from love, than from mere sovereignty.

The question has often been suggested to my mind, "Do we watch for the evidences of this care over our own lives, so as to return heartfelt thanks to Him who watches even the sparrow's fall?"

A few evenings since, in conversation with a friend, I was forcibly impressed by an instance that he narrated, in illustration of the power of this faith to sustain a departing spirit, and the wonderful verification of the assurances of God, that he would never leave those who put their trust in him.

In the city of — -, N. Y., resided a wealthy merchant, whom we will call Charles Sumner. He was for some years a shrewd business man, and amassed money with great rapidity. In the midst of his successful career, the future with its mighty responsibilities opened before him. For what was he living? How should he appear before his God? His daybook and ledger were all fair to the eyes of men: for he had conducted business on principles regarded as strictly honorable by his fellow beings, and his success had seemed rather the result of a keen foresight, that had taught him when to risk and when not to risk, than of anything like the tricks of sharpers. But would all bear the scrutiny of that One, who reads the thoughts