idleness and folly; they believe nothing, because they do nothing; whereas the great worker, who has achieved what the world wonders at, has a credulous brain, and believes in miracles. A divine benediction attends on true work; its spirit is indeed the little fairy which turns everything into gold; and that man or woman who instils into his or her children habits of industry, who teaches them self-dependence, "to scorn delights, and live laborious days," does much better than they who, after working painfully themselves, leave to their children a fortune which will corrupt by inducing an indolence which will surely prove a curse.

(By permission of the Author.)

THE HARE AND MANY FRIENDS.

JOHN GAY.

FRIENDSHIP, like love, is but a name,
Unless to one you stint the flame.
The child whom many fathers share,
Hath seldom known a father's care.
"Tis thus in friendship; who depend
On many, rarely find a friend.

A Hare, who in a civil way,
Complied with everything, like GAY,
Was known by all the bestial train,
Who haunt the wood, or graze the plain.
Her care was never to offend,
And every creature was her friend.

As forth she went at early dawn,
To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn,
Behind she hears the hunter's cries,
And from the deep-mouthed thunder flies:
She starts, she stops, she pants for breath;
She hears the near advance of death;

She doubles, to mislead the hound,
And measures back her mazy round;
Till, fainting in the public way,
Half dead with fear she gasping lay;
What transport in her bosom grew,
When first the Horse appeared in view!
"Let me," says she, "your back ascend,
And owe my safety to a friend.
You know my feet betray my flight;
To friendship every burden's light.'
The Horse replied, “Poor honest Puss,
It grieves my heart to see thee thus;
Be comforted; relief is near,
For all your friends are in the rear."

She next the stately Bull implored,
And thus replied the mighty lord:
"Since every beast alive can tell
That I sincerely wish you well,
may, without offence, pretend

I

To take the freedom of a friend.

Love calls me hence: a favourite cow
Expects me near yon barley-mow;
And when a lady's in the case,

You know, all other things give place.
To leave you thus might seem unkind;
But see, the Goat is just behind."

The Goat remarked her pulse was high,
Her languid head, her heavy eye;
"My back," says he, "may do you harm;
The Sheep's at hand, and wool is warm."

The Sheep was feeble, and complained
His sides a load of wool sustained:
Said he was slow, confessed his fears,
For hounds eat sheep as well as hares.

She now the trotting Calf addressed,
To save from death a friend distressed.
"Shall I," says he, "of tender age,
In this important care engage?

Older and abler passed you by;
How strong are those, how weak am I!
Should I presume to bear you hence,
Those friends of mine may take offence.
Excuse me, then. You know my
heart;
But dearest friends, alas! must part.
How shall we all lament! Adieu!
For, see, the hounds are just in view!"

ADVENT HYMN.

H. H. MILMAN, D.D., Dean of St. Paul's.

THE chariot! the chariot! its wheels roll in fire,
As the Lord cometh down in the pomp of his ire;
Self-moving, it drives on its pathway of cloud,
And the heavens with the burden of Godhead are bow'd.

The glory! the glory! around him are pour'd,
The myriads of angels that wait on the Lord;
And the glorified saints, and the martyrs are there,
And all who the palm-wreaths of victory wear,

The trumpet! the trumpet! the dead have all heard!
Lo, the depths of the stone-cover'd monuments stirr'd;
From ocean and earth, from the south pole and north,
Lo, the vast generations of ages come forth!

The judgment the judgment! the thrones are all set,
Where the Lamb and the white-vested elders are met;
All flesh is at once in the sight of the Lord,
And the doom of eternity hangs on his word.

Oh, mercy! oh, mercy! look down from above,
Redeemer, on us, thy sad children, with love!

When beneath to their darkness the wicked are driven,
May our justified souls find a welcome in heaven!

THE HOUR OF PRAYER.

MRS. HEMANS.

CHILD, amidst the flowers at play,
While the red light fades away;
Mother, with thine earnest eye,
Ever following silently;
Father, by the breeze of eve
Call'd thy harvest-work to leave ;-
Pray! ere yet the dark hours be,
Lift the heart and bend the knee.

Traveller, 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!

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!

A MOTHER'S INFLUENCE.

MRS. PARTON.

"AND So you sail to-morrow, Will? I shall miss you." "Yes; I'm bound to see the world. I've been beating my wings in desperation against the wires of my cage these three years. I know every stick, and stone,

and stump in this odious village by heart, as well as those stereotyped sermons of Parson Grey's. They say he calls me a scapegrace'-pity I should have the name without the game," said he, bitterly. "I haven't room here to run the length of my chain. I'll show him what I can do in a wider field of action."

"But how did you bring your father over?"

"Oh, he's very glad to get rid of me; quite disgusted because I've no fancy for seeing corn and oats grow. The truth is, every father knows at once too much and too little about his own son; the old gentleman never understood me; he soured my temper, which was originally none of the best, roused all the worst feelings in my nature, and is constantly driving me from instead of to the point he would have me reach."

"And your mother?"

"Well, there you have me; that's the only humanized portion of my heart-the only soft spot in it. She came to my bedside last night, after she thought I was asleep, gently kissed my forehead, and then knelt by my bedside. Harry, I've been wandering round the fields all the morning, to try to get rid of that prayer. Old Parson Grey might preach at me till the millennium, and he wouldn't move me any more than that stone. It makes all the difference in the world when you know a person feels what they are praying about. I'm wild, and reckless, and wicked, I suppose; but I shall never be an infidel while I can remember my mother. You should see the way she bears my father's impetuous temper; that's grace, not nature, Harry; but don't let us talk about it-I only wish my parting with her was well over. Good-bye; God bless you, Harry; you'll hear from me, if the fishes don't make a supper of me;" and Will left his friend and entered the cottage.

Will's mother was moving nervously and restlessly about, tying up all sorts of mysterious little parcels that only mothers think of, "in case he should be sick,” or in case he should be this, that, or the other, interrupted occa