I can see her bending o'er me, as I listen to the strain
Which is played upon the shingles by the patter of the rain.
4. Then my little seraph sister, with her wings and waving hair,
And her bright-eyed, cherub brother—a serene, angelic pair—
Glide around my wakeful pillow with their praise or mild reproof,
As I listen to the murmur of the soft rain on the roof.

5. And another comes to thrill me with her eyes' delicious blue.
I forget, as gazing on her, that her heart was all untrue :
I remember that I loved her as I ne'er may love again,

And my heart's quick pulses vibrate to the patter of the rain.

6. There is naught in art's bravuras that can work with such a spell,
In the spirit's pure, deep fountains, whence the holy passions swell,
As that melody of nature-that subdued, subduing strain,
Which is played upon the shingles by the patter of the rain!

CXXVII. THE SHIPWRECK.

1. Ar half-past eight o'clock, booms, hen-coops, spars,
And all things, for a chance, had been cast loose,
That still could keep afloat the struggling tars;
For yet they strove, although of no great use.
There was no light in heaven but a few stars:

The boats put off, o'ercrowded with their crews ➤
She gave a heel, and then a lurch to port,
And going down head-foremost-sunk, in short.
2. Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell;

Then shrieked the timid, and stood still the brave;
Then some leaped overboard, with dreadful yell,
As eager to anticipate their grave;

And the sea yawned around her like a hell;

And down she sucked with her the whirling wave,

Like one who grapples with his enemy,
And strives to strangle him before he die.
3. And first a universal shriek there rushed,

Louder than the loud ocean, like a crash
Of echoing thunder; and then all was hushed,
Save the wild wind and the remorseless dash
Of billows; but at intervals there gushed,
Accompanied with a convulsive splash,

A solitary shriek: the bubbling cry
Of some strong swimmer in his agony.

BYRON.

CXXVIII.-FORCE OF HABIT.

CHARLES A. WILEY.

1. In the Arctic ocean near the coast of Norway is situated the famous Maelstrom or whirlpool. Many are the goodly ships that have been caught in its circling power, and plunged into the depths below. On a fine spring morning, near the shore opposite, are gathered a company of peasants. The winter and the long night have passed away; and, in accordance with their ancient custom, they are holding a greeting to the return of the sunlight, and the verdure of spring. Under a green shade are spread, in abundance, all the luxuries their pleasant homes could afford. In the grove at one side are heard the strains of music, and the light step of the dance.

2. At the shore lies a beautiful boat, and a party near are preparing for a ride. Soon all things are in readiness, and, amid the cheers of their companions on shore, they push gayly away. The day is beautiful, and they row on, and on. Weary, at length, they drop their oars to rest; but they perceive their boat to be still moving. Somewhat surprised,—soon it occurs to them that they are under the influence of the whirlpool.

3. Moving slowly and without an effort-presently faster, at length the boat glides along with a movement far more delightful than with oars. Their friends from the shore perceive the boat moving, and see no working of the oars,— it flashes upon their minds-they are evidently within the circles of the maelstrom. When the boat comes near they call to them, "Beware of the whirlpool! But they laugh at fear,—they are too happy to think of returning: "When we see there is danger then we will return." Oh, that some good angel would come with warning unto them, "Unless ye now turn back ye cannot be saved." Like as the voice of God comes to the soul of the impenitent, "Unless ye mend your ways ye cannot be saved."

4. The boat is now going at a fearful rate; but, deceived by the moving waters, they are unconscious of its rapidity.

They hear the hollow rumbling at the whirlpool's centre. The voices from the shore are no longer audible, but every effort is being used to warn them of their danger. They now, for the first time, become conscious of their situation, and head the boat towards shore. But, like a leaf in the autumn gale, she quivers under the power of the whirlpool. Fear drives them to frenzy! Two of the strongest seize the oars, and ply them with all their strength, and the boat moves towards the shore. With joy they cherish hope! and some, for the first time in all their lives, now give thanks to God,―that they are saved. But, suddenly, CRASH! goes an oar! and such a shriek goes up from that ill-fated band, as can only be heard when a spirit lost drops into perdition!

5. The boat whirls again into its death-marked channel and skips on with the speed of the wind. The roar at the centre grinds on their ears, like the grating of prison doors. on the ears of the doomed. Clearer, more deafening is that dreadful roar, as nearer and still nearer the vessel approaches the centre! then, whirling for a moment on that awful brink, she plunges with her freight of human souls into that dreadful yawning hollow, where their bodies shall lie in their watery graves till the sea gives up its dead!

6. And so, every year, aye, every month, thousands, passing along in the boat of life, enter almost unaware the fatal circles of the wine-cup. And, notwithstanding the earnest voices of anxious friends, "Beware of the gutter! of the grave! of hell!" they continue their course until the "force of habit" overpowers them; and, cursing and shrieking, they whirl for a time on the crater of the maelstrom, and are plunged below!

CXXIX.-POETICAL AND PROSE SELECTIONS.

1.-FROM GOLDEN LEGEND.

1. THE Life which is, and that which is to come,
Suspended hang in such nice equipoise

1

Y

A breath disturbs the balance; and that scale
In which we throw our hearts preponderates,
And the other, like an empty one, flies up,
And is accounted vanity and air!

2. FROM LONGFELLOW.

1. In ancient records it is stated

That, whenever an evil deed is done,
Another devil is created

To scourge and torment the offending one!

But evil is only good perverted,

And Lucifer, the Bearer of Light,

But an angel fallen and deserted,

Thrust from his Father's house with a curse

Into the black and endless night.

3.-COUNT DE CABRA.

1. A GENTLEMAN who assisted the Count de Cabra in putting on his armor before the battle, perceiving him tremble, asked what could cause this emotion in a man of such known bravery? The Count answered: "My flesh trembles at the danger into which my soul will lead it.”

4.-AN ENEMY'S GIFT.

1. WHEN the Crusaders under King Richard, of England, defeated the Saracens, the sultan, seeing his troops fly, asked what was the number of the Christians who were making all this slaughter? He was told that it was only King Richard and his men, and they were all afoot.' 66 Then," said the Sultan, "God forbid that such a noble fellow as King Richard should march on foot," and sent him a noble charger. The messenger took it, and said: "Sir, the Sultan sends you this charger, in order that you may not be on foot." The King was cunning as his enemy, and ordered one of his squires to mount the horse, in order to try him. The squire did so; but the animal was fiery, and he could not hold him he set off at full speed to the Sultan's pavilion. The Sultan expected he had got King

:

Richard, and was not a little mortified to discover his mistake.

5.-THE POWER OF LOVE.

SHAKSPEARE.

1. BUT love, first learned in a lady's eyes,
Lives not alone immured in the brain;
But with the motion of all elements,

Courses as swift as thought in every power;
And gives to every power a double power,
Above their functions and their offices.

It adds a precious seeing to the eye:
A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind;
A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound,
When the suspicious head of theft is stopped:
Love's feeling is more soft, and sensible,
Than are the tender horns of cockled snails:

Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste;
For valor, is not love a Hercules,

Still climbing trees in the Hesperides?

Subtle as sphinx, as sweet and musical

As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair;

And, when love speaks, the voice of all the gods,
Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.

Never durst poet touch a pen to write,

Until his ink were tempered with love's sighs:
O, then his lines would ravish savage ears,
And plant in tyrants mild humility.

6.-IMPERISHABILITY OF GREAT EXAMPLES.

EDWARD EVERETT.

1. To be cold and breathless,-to feel not and speak not, this is not the end of existence to the men who have breathed their spirits into the institutions of their country, who have stamped their characters on the pillars of the age, who have poured their hearts' blood into the channels of the public prosperity. Tell me, ye who tread the sods of yon sacred height, is Warren dead? Can you not still see him, not pale and prostrate, the blood of his gallant heart pouring out of his ghastly wound, but moving resplendent over the field of honor, with the rose of Heaven upon his cheek, and the fire of liberty in his eye?