angels, and the spirits of the just made perfect in holiness; where sin will no more annoy him; where the spirits of darkness will no more molest him; but where he will be clad in the robe of the Redeemer's righteousness, and have his image indelibly instamped upon him.

ANECDOTES.

FAITH IN GOD ILLUSTRATED.

I IMPRINTED on my daughter, says Cecil, the idea of Faith, at a very early age. She was playing one day with a few beads, which seemed to delight her wonderfully. Her whole soul was absorbed in her beads. I said, "My dear, you have some pretty beads there." "Yes, Papa!" "And you seem to be vastly pleased with them."

"Yes, Papa!" "Well now, throw them behind the fire." The tears started into her eyes. She looked earnestly at me, as though she ought to have a reason for such a cruel sacrifice. "Well, my dear, do as you please but you know I never told you to do any thing, which I did not think would be good for you." She looked at me a few moments longer, and then,— summoning up all her fortitude, her breast heaving with the effort,--she dashed them into the fire. "Well, said I, there let them lie: you shall hear more about them another time; but say no more about them now." Some days after, I bought her a box full of larger beads and toys of the same kind. When I returned home, I opened the treasure and set it before her: she burst in tears with ecstacy. "Those, my child," said I, " are yours; because you believed me, when I told you it would be better for you to throw those two or three paltry beads behind the fire. Now that has brought you this treasure. But now, my dear, remember, as long as you live, what Faith is. I did all this to teach you the meaning of faith. You threw your beads away when I bade you, because you had faith in me that I never advised you but for your good. Put the same confidence in God. Believe every thing that he says in his Word. Whether you understand it or not, have faith in him that he means your good."

COLONEL ETHAN ALLEN.

COLONEL ETHAN ALLEN was a bold officer in the Amer. ican Revolution. He could face the enemies of his country with the most undaunted bravery, and in the field of battle, he never shrunk from danger. But he was an opposer to Christianity, and gloried in the character of an infidel. His wife, however, was a pious woman, and taught her children in the ways of piety, while he told them it was all a delusion. But there was an hour coming, when Colonel Allen's confidence in his own sentiments would be. closely tried. A beloved daughter was taken sick--He received a message that she was dying-He hastened to her bed-side, anxious to hear her dying words. "Father," said she, “I am about to die shall I believe in the principles which you have taught me, or shall I believe what my mother has taught me ?" This was an affecting scene. The Intrepid Colonel became extremely agitated; his chin quivered; his whole frame shook; and after waiting a few moments he replied, " Believe what your mother has taught you."

66

THE SIN OF SLANDER.

A MAN's good name is like a piece of white paper, which, if once blotted, will very hardly be got out again, so as to leave no print of it behind. It is like a merchant's estate, long in getting, but lost in a moment; and when it is lost in the bottom of the sea, how shallit ever be recovered again? How circumspect, then, ought men to be in what they say of their brother, so as not to steal and murder his good name, which is as precious as life itself! The destruction of another's character is a sin that God will not pardon, unless the party that is guilty make restitution, which is a work not easy to be done: yet God will accept of endeavour, if faithful and industrious.

I

(For the Monitor.)

LORD BYRON.

weep not that a foreign land

Received the poet's parting breath,
I weep not that a stranger's hand,
Pressed on his eyelids cold in death.

I weep not that his early bier,
Was slow and silent borne along,
Unwetted by a kindred tear,
Unfollowed by the sons of song!

I weep not that he passed away,
Ere age had quenched his eye of fire,
Who wishes a loved one to stay
Long in a world of ills so dire?

I weep-flow on, flow on, my woe,-
I weep so sweet a lyre unstrung,
The hand that swept its chords laid low,
Forever mute that tuneful tongue,

Before a grateful lay was given

To him who gave the wond'rous art, Before a glowing spark of Heaven, Had purified and rapt his heart.

I hop'd the UNCREATED FAIR

Would fix the minstrel's vagrant eye, That gazing, wond'ring, kindling there, He'd tune his harp to strains on high;

I hop'd that they who watch'd his bed,
When agony and death were there,
Would see a tear of sorrow shed,
Would hear a faultering, dying prayer!

I hop'd-alas my hope was vain,
With dread eternity in sight,
He'd give those pages to the flame,
At once so deadly and so bright.

I weep because his closing eye
Beheld no visions from above,
There mingled with his latest sigh
No hallow'd symphony of love!

Ye sons of song, come twine the bays,
Of laurel and of hellebore,

To crown a genius bright and base,

Shall charm and curse till time is o'er.

HENRIETTA.

(For the Monitor.)

TIME THE UNIVERSAL COMFORTER,

WHEN Sorrow swells the aching breast,
And rankles deep her poisoned dart,
The spirits droop, by care depressed,
And poignant anguish rends the heart;
O! where shall mortals find relief,
A solace for the pang of grief?

To pleasure's smiling scenes they fly,
And drown in giddy mirth their woe,
Or in the arms of friendship sigh,

While tears of mutual sorrow flow;
And this their woe may sooth awhile,
And bid the passing moment smile.

But vain is pleasure's giddy round,

The soothing smile of friendship vain;
No balm they yield for sorrow's wound,
No solace for a heart of pain;
'Tis Time alone imparts relief,
And smooths the furrowed brow of grief.

He bids the mourning spirit sing,
The pallid cheek with lustre glow,
And scatters from his balmy wing

An antidote for ev'ry woe;

Alike he smiles on lowly fate,

And courts where monarchs roll in state.

When borne by fortune far away
From all a feeling heart adores,
In foreign climates doomed to stray,

Or tost where troubled ocean roars,
Time wings us back with fearless flight,
To scenes where kindred souls unite.

Let friends forsake, let foes assail,

And fly those hours that found us blest,
Fond hope no longer pierce the veil,

That shrouds the peaceful bourne of rest,
These transient ills shall Time control,
Friendship restore, and grief console.

'Tis he unrolls the scroll of fate,
Reveals to man futurity,

The anxious soul frees from a state
Of dubious uncertainty ;

Far, far removes life's gloomy cares,
And to his home the pilgrim bears.

O! there shall ev'ry sorrow fly,

Be wiped away the tear of wo,
Joy beam from ev'ry sparkling eye,
From ev'ry tongue sweet anthems flow,
Life's vain illusions all be o'er,

And happy spirits sigh no more.

B.

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

We admire the spirit of F. P.'s piece, but after deliberately weighing the question, we think its practical merits will not justify its insertion on our pages.--Philaphysis, and some other communications, have been received.