possible for them to know the relative consequences, of crime, it is usually wise in them to quit the care of such nice measurements, and to look to the other and clearer condition of culpability, esteeming those faults worst which are committed under least temptation. I do not mean to diminish the blame of the injurious and malicious sin, of the selfish and deliberate falsity; yet it seems to me, that the shortest way to check the darker forms of deceit is to set watch more scrupulous against those which have mingled, unregarded and unchastised, with the current of our life. Do not let us lie at all. Do not think of one falsity as harmless, and another as slight, and another as unintended. Cast them all aside they may be light and accidental; but they are as ugly as soot from the smoke of the pit for all that; and it is better that our hearts should be swept clean of them, without, over care as to which is largest or blackest. Speaking truth is like writing fair, and comes only by practice; it is less a matter of will than of habit, and I doubt if any occasion can be trivial which permits the practice and formation of such a habit. To speak and act truth with constancy and precision is nearly as difficult, and perhaps as meritorious, as to speak it under intimidation or penalty; and it is a strange thought how many men there are, as I trust, who would hold to it at the cost of life or fortune, for one who would hold to it at the cost of a little daily trouble. And seeing that of all sin there is, perhaps, no one more flatly opposite to the Almighty, no one more "wanting the good of virtue and of being," than this of lying, it is surely a strange insolence to fall into the foulness of it on light or on no temptation, and surely becoming an honourable man to resolve, that, whatever semblances or fallacies the necessary course of his life may compel him to bear or to believe, none shall disturb the serenity of his voluntary actions, nor diminish the reality of his chosen delights.

(From the "Seven Lamps of Architecture." By permission of Messrs. Smith and Elder.)

106

THE PAINTED WINDOW.

WILLIAM SAWYER.

THIS is our painted window, pure white lights before,

Of

But when

my lord died, Lady Ann,

To prove the love she bore,

Raised this, and turned his hunters out,

To grass for evermore.

And here she sits, beneath it,

In amethyst and rose;
And if the Virgin's kirtle

Tinges her steadfast nose,
She heeds it not; but lurid
Through Morning Service goes.

To see our famous window
From all the country side,
The wondering rustics gather,
And noise it far and wide;

Till Lady Ann esteems it

Our village boast and pride.

For me-I loved that better
Which as a boy I knew,
Rearing its open arches

Against God's solemn blue;
Five portals which His glory
Was ever streaming through.

Hour after hour beneath it
The dreaming boy would sit,
And watch it, with the splendour
Of Heaven's radiance lit-
A window beautiful indeed,

For God had painted it!

Sometimes of the Good Shepherd

Our loving pastor told,
And of the sheep He tended;

And, lo! I saw the fold,
There in the blue reposing
Cloud-white, or fleeced in gold.
Sometimes a sea of crystal

The cloud-isles' rosy tips
Flushed through, or golden branches
Waved over cloudy ships;
And I beheld the vision
Of John's Apocalypse.

The yew-tree's ragged branches
Stretched black against the light;
And when the stormy sunset
Burned in it redly bright,
The burning bush on Horeb
Gleamed on my wond'ring sight.

And sometimes in the twilight,
Before the prayer was done,
Out of the warming opal

The stars broke one by one;
To me they were the symbols
Of Heaven's benizon.

So in each prayer repeated,
Each sacred lesson taught,
'Twas Heaven itself assisted
To shape the heavenly thought,
And on my painted window
The holy picture wrought.

But now the pallid Virgin,
With saffron-oozing hair,
For ever weeps, and ever

The Four are rigid there;
And gold and reds and purples

Are all their saintly wear.

The lights are medieval,

The figures square and quaint;
But more I loved the splendour
No human hand could paint-
The heav'n now blotted under
Each intercepting saint.

As these were men, their presence
Can all manhood move,
my
Their sufferings all my pity,
Their loving all my love :
But thoughts of men tend downward,
And thoughts of God above.

And, as I am but human,
Is this a gain to me?
To bound my soul's perceptions

By their humanity?

To gaze upon God's sainted,

Where God was wont to be?

(From "Temple Bar." By permission of the Author.)

NEVER FORGET TO PRAY.

T. H. BAYLY.

NEVER, my child, forget to pray,
What e'er the business of the day,
If happy dreams have bless'd thy sleep,
If startling fears have made thee weep,
With holy thoughts begin the day;
And ne'er, my child, forget to pray.

Pray Him by whom the birds are fed,
To give to thee thy daily bread;
If wealth his bounty should bestow,
Praise Him from whom all blessings flow,
If He who gave should take away,
Oh! ne'er, my child, forget to pray.

A time may come when thou wilt miss
A father's, and a mother's kiss,

And then, my child, perchance thou❜lt see,
Some who in prayer ne'er bend the knee;
From such examples turn away,
And ne'er, my child, forget to pray.

A YOUNG lad was once rowing me across the Merrimack River in a boat. Some boatmen, going down the river with timber, had drawn up their boat, and anchored it in the spot where the boy wished to land me.

"There!" he exclaimed, "those boatmen have left their boat exactly in my way."

"What did they do that for?" I asked.

"On purpose to plague me," said he; "but I will cut it loose, and let it go down the river. I would have them know I can be as disagreeable as they can."

66

But, my lad," said I, "you should not plague them because they plague you. Besides, how do you know that they left their boat there on purpose to vex and to trouble you?"

"But they had no business to leave it there—it is against the rules," said he.

66

True," I replied, "and yet you have no business to send their boat down the river. Would it not be better to ask them to remove it out of the way?"

"They will not comply, if I do?" said the angry boy, "and they will do so again."

66

Well, try for once," said I. "Run your boat a little above, or a little below theirs, and see if they will