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POETRY.

rather mismanagement, would long ago have driven us to utter ruin, for each man seems to aim at getting to the wheel and keeping there, rather than at steering the ship. But our interests, after all, are not the playthings of politicians. Enthroned above all potentates, and powers, and parties, is ONE who stands to us in the relationship of a Father as well as of a King, who cares as much for the poor as for the rich, for day labourers as for emperors, and who will not suffer ambition and injustice to assume a world-wide sway, or for one to usurp the rights of man and trifle with the well-being of peoples. By what instrumentalities He may restore peace to the world and prosperity to us I know not, but I believe that only through His kind providence, that never fails the world, will they be restored. Some may call this superstition. Well, I am content. Call it what you please; but consider whether it is not a far more preposterous and grovelling superstition to repose confidence in statesmen, and politicians, and parties, excepting so far as they may be the chief causes under the omnipotent control of the great Father of mankind, the Source of all wisdom, and justice, and truth, and love."

Poetry.

SELF-REFORM.

ADDRESSED TO WORKING-MEN BY A WORKING MAN.

Birmingham.

REFORM, reform, ye working-men,
Lay down the pot, take up the pen;
Give up the tap room and the drink,
And now begin to act and think.
Reform, reform, nor longer roam
Away from wife and all at home;
Take there your cash to clothe and feed;
Save what you can for times of need.
Reform, reform, if you would be
More happy, virtuous, wise, and free;
Forsake the wrong, and do the right,
So shall your future be more bright.

Reform, my brethren, upward rise,
The step is sure, the thought is wise,
Break from the chains that keep you low,
Resolve at once to strike the blow.

R. C.

ANECDOTES AND SELECTIONS.

Anecdotes and Selections.

WHERE ARE THEY? Where are the Nebuchadnezzars, the Alexanders, the Napoleons, those mighty conquerors who once made whole nations to tremble and kingdoms to fall? Where are our Chathams, and our Cannings, and our Peels, those brilliant statesmen upon whose lips admiring senates once hung with wonder and delight? Where are our Miltons, our Shakspeares, our poets, our historians, our generals, and our preachers, who each in their day were the theme of general conversation, and were lauded with the tribute of a country's praise? All, all, are gone as the "baseless fabric of a vision," and others occupy their places soon to succeed to their oblivion. Nay, not only so; as a leaf is frequently withered long before it falls from the tree, so is it with men; for many of them survive their usefulness and their senses. The famous Sir Isaac Newton lived long enough not to comprehend his own mathematics; Marlborough till he trembled at a drum; and Southey till he could no longer read his own poetry. Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher; all is vanity." Men are but like a swarm of insects sporting in the summer's sunbeam for a day and then gone.

To contemplation's sober eye,
Such is the race of man;

And they that creep, and they that fly,
Shall end where they began.

Alike the busy and the gay,

But flutter through life's little day.

In fortune's varying colours drest;

Brushed by the hand of rough mischance,

Or chill'd by age; their airy dance

They leave in dust to rest.

66

"For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass, The grass withereth, and the flower thereof fadeth away: But the word of the Lord endureth for ever. And this is the word which by the gospel is preached unto you."

THE FORMER CONDITION OF ENGLAND.-If we look into England's past history, and compare its present condition with any portion of that history, we shall find that a marked and important change for the better is visible; while the comparison will yield fresh encouragement to the lovers of and believers in progress to continue their labours with redoubled zeal. For instance, some 400 years ago, the people of this country were no better than serfs; political freedom was unknown, education was confined to the priests; the very nobles of the land-the proudest and the wealthiest were unable to read or write, and there are numerous records extant which shew that they had to substitute a cross or mark for their signature. The books in existence were in the possession of the monks, or chained to the pillars in the churches. In matters of

THE FIRESIDE..

opinion, no man was allowed to have a mind of his own; freedom of speech was denied; the man who raised his voice against the errors and abuses of a corrupt religion, was hurried to the stake; the faggot and the inquisition were the reward of the reformer. The strong man ruled "might was right;" every privilege had to be won by fear and force, and, when obtained, guarded with jealous care against the designs of the monarch and the aristocracy.

A COMPANY OF FRIENDS dining together, one of the party observed, "It is a question whether we shall all go to heaven or not!" This produced instant reflection. One thought if any one of this company should go to hell, it is I; and so thought a second, and a third; and, through the Divine blessing, the question proved instru mental in the conversion of many of the party, and even of some of the servants that waited at table.

The Fireside.

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THE MOTHER AND HER FAMILY.

PHILOSOPHY is rarely found. The most perfect sample I ever met with was an aged woman, who was apparently the poorest and most forlorn of the human species-so true is the maxim which all profess to believe, and none act upon invariably, viz.:—that happiness does not depend upon outward circumstances. The wise woman to whom I have alluded, walks to Boston, a distance of twenty or thirty miles, to sell a bag of brown thread and stockings, and then patiently walks back again with her little gain. Her dress, though tidy, is a grotesque collection of "shreds and patches," coarse in the extreme. Why don't you come down in a wagon ?" said I, when I observed she was wearied with her long journey. "We haven't got any horse," she replied; "the neighbours are very kind to me, but they can't spare them, and it would cost me as much to hire one as all my thread would come to." "You have a husband, doesn't he do anything for you?" "He is a good man-he does all he can; but he is a cripple and an invalid. He reels my yarn, and mends the children's shoes. He's as kind a husband as a woman need to have." "But his being a cripple is a heavy misfortune to you," said I. "Why, ma'am, I don't look upon it in that light," replied the thread woman, "I consider that I've great reason to be thankful that he never took to any bad habits." "How many children have you ?" "Six sons and five daughters, ma'am." "Six sons and five daughters! What a family for a poor woman to support !" "It's a family, maʼam; but there ain't one of 'em I'd be willing to lose. They are all healthy children as need be-all willing to work, and all clever to me. Even the littlest boy, when he gets a cent now and then for doing an errand, will be sure to bring it to me."

"Do

THE PENNY POST BOX.

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your daughters spin your thread?" "No, ma'am; as soon as they are big enough, they go out to service, as I don't want to keep them always delving for me; they are always willing to give me what they can; but its right and fair that they should do a little for themselves. I do all my spinning after the folks are a bed." "Don't you think you would be better off if you had no one but yourself to provide for?" Why, ma'am, I don't. If I hadn't been married, I should always have had to work as hard as I could, and now I can't do no more than that-my children are a great comfort to me, and I look forward to the time when they'll do as much for me as I have done for them." Here was true philosophy! I learned a lesson from that poor woman which I shall not soon forget. MISS SEDGWICK.

The Penny Post Box.

THOUGHTS ON PRAYER AND FORMS OF PRAYER.

DEAR SIR, I send you the following lines, written by a poor Irishman, on seeing a family prayer book which contained these words in the preface: "This book is intended to assist those who have not yet acquired the happy art of addressing themselves to God in scriptural and appropriate language."

Prayer's a sweet and noble duty,

Highest privilege of man;

God exalted, man abased,

Prayer unites them into one.

God alone can teach his children
By his Spirit how to pray;

Knows our wants, and gives the knowledge
What to ask and what to say.

Where's the book, or school, or college,
That can teach a man to pray?
Words they give from wordly knowledge;
Learn of Christ, He is the way.
Those who seek shall surely find him→
Not in books-He reigns within;
Formal prayers can never reach him,
Neither can he dwell with sin.

Words are free as they are common;
Some in them have wondrous skill;
Saying "Lord," will never save them,
He loves those who do His will.
Words may please the lofty fancy;
Music charm the list'ning ear;
Pompous words may please the simple;
But the Saviour is not there.

Christ is the true way to heaven,
Life is ours if him we know;
Those who can pray, He has taught them,
Those who can't should words forego.

When a child wants food and raiment,
He will ask his parents dear;
Ask in faith, then, God's our father,
He's at hand, and he will hear.
Prayer's an easy simple duty,

'Tis the language of the soul;
Grace demands it, Grace inspires it,
Grace receives and crowns the whole.
God requires not various postures;
Neither words arranged in form;
Such a thought just presupposes
That with words we God can charm,
God alone must be exalted,

Earthly 'maginations fall;
Every thought must be subjected
Unto Christ the Lord of all.
Every heart should be a temple
Where the Spirit dwells within;
Every day should be a sabbath ;
Every hour redeemed from sin.
Every place, a place of worship;

Every time, a time of prayer;
Every sigh should rise to heaven;
Every wish should centre there.
Heartfelt hopes and heaven-born wishes,
Or the broken speechless sigh,
These are prayers that God will answer,
These will reach His throne on high.

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Hints.

DOING WRONG is never at a stand still. If we do not withdraw from it, we must go on in it; and the further we go, the further we shall have to come back.

AFFECTATION in a woman spoils her fair face more than the small pox would.

Truth and ErrOR.-Set it down as an everlasting and unalterable fact, that all Truth is beautiful, and all Error ugly.

AN ENVIOUS MAN will sometimes go so far as to endanger his own reputation in order to ruin that of another.

INDULGENCE OF PASSIONATE TEMPER may make a man look stronger for the time, but it always leaves him weaker afterwards.

People's Almanack.

GRATITUDE AND GENEROSITY are close relations, and fond of each others company. If you find a poor man truly grateful, you may take it for granted that he would be as generous if he were rich.

LET NO MAN THINK HIMSELF SO

insignificant that his conduct has no influence for good or for harm upon others. No man ever lived yet who did not make others better or worse by his example.

auction in the public market, we WERE WISDOM TO BE SOLD by dance and little competition. Most fear there would be a small attenmen think they have enough.

SEEING OURSELVES. Burns, the Scotch poet, wrote many silly things, and but few good ones. This was not amiss,

"O that some one the gift would gi'e us, To see ourselves as others see us."

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