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I believe, and elected, to possess and people a Continent, which belong to few other objects, either of the moral or material world.

3. We may become so much accustomed to such things that they shall make as little impression upon our minds as the glories of the heavens above us; but, looking on them, lately, as with the eye of the stranger, I felt, what a recent English traveller is said to have remarked, that, far from being without poetry, as some have vainly alleged, our whole country is one great poem.

4. Sir, it is so; and if there be a man that can think of what is doing, in all parts of this most blessed of all lands, to embellish and advance it-who can contemplate that living mass of intelligence, activity and improvement, as it rolls on, in its sure and steady progress, to the uttermost extremities of the West--who can see scenes of savage desolation transformed, almost with the suddenness of enchantment, into those of fruitfulness and beauty, crowned with flourishing cities, filled with the noblest of all populations-if there be a man, I say, that can witness all this, passing under his very eyes, without feeling his heart beat high, and his imagination. warmed and transported by it, be sure, sir, that the raptures of song exist not for him; he would listen in vain to Tasso or Camoëns, telling a tale of the wars of knights and crusaders, or of the discovery and conquest of another hemisphere.

LEGARÉ.

20. AFAR IN THE DESERT.

This piece is characterized by great feeling and high descriptive powers]

A

FAR in the desert I love to ride,

With the silent Bush boy alone by my side,

When the sorrows of life the soul o'ercast,

And sick of the present I cling to the past,
When the eye is suffused with regretful tears,
From the fond recollections of former years,

And shadows of things that have long since fled
Flit over the brain like the ghosts of the dead;
Bright visions of glory that vanished too soon;
Day-dreams that departed ere manhood's noon;
Attachments by fate or by falsehood reft,
Companions of early days, lost or left.

And my native land-whose magical name
Thrills to the heart like electric flame;

The home of my childhood, "the haunts of my prime,"
All the passions and scenes of that rapturous time
When the feelings were young and the world was new,
Like the fresh flowers of Eden unfolding to view ;
All-all now forsaken-forgotten-foregone-
And I-a poor exile, remembered of none.

My high aims abandoned-my good acts undone,-
Aweary of all that is under the sun.

With that sadness of heart, that no stranger can scan,
I fly to the desert-afar from man.

2. Afar in the desert I love to ride

With the silent Bush boy alone by my side.
When the wild turmoil of this wearisome life,

With its scenes of corruption, oppression, and strife,-
The proud man's frown, and the base man's fear-
The scorner's laugh, and the sufferer's tear,-
And malice, and meanness, and falsehood, and folly,
Dispose me to musing and sad melancholy;
When my bosom is full, and my thoughts are high,
And my soul is sick with the bondsman's sigh,
Oh! then there is freedom, and joy, and pride,
Afar in the desert alone to ride!

There is rapture to vault on the champing steed,
And to bound away with the eagle's speed,
With the death-fraught firelock in my hand-
The only law of the desert land!

3. Afar in the desert I love to ride,

With the silent Bush boy alone by my side.
Away-away from the dwellings of men,

By the wild deer's haunt, by the buffalo's glen;

By valleys remote, where the oribi plays,

Where the gnu, the gazelle, and the hartebeest graze-
Where the kuder and eland unhunted recline,

By the skirts of gray forest o'erhung with wild vine;
Where the elephant browses at peace in his wood,
And the river-horse gambols, unscared in the flood,
Where the fleet-footed ostrich, over the waste,
Speeds like a horseman who travels in haste,
Hieing away to the home of her rest,

Where she and her mate have scooped their nest,
Far hid from the pitiless plunderer's view,

In the pathless depths of the parched karroo.

4. And here while the night winds round me sigh, And the stars burn bright in the midnight sky, As I sit apart by the desert stone,

Like Elijah at Horeb's cave alone,

A still, small voice comes through the wild
(Like a father consoling his fretful child),
Which banishes bitterness, wrath, and fear;
Saying: "Man is distant, but God is near."

PRINGLE.

A

21. POST NUMMOS VIRTUS.

VARICE is the besetting sin of the age. Ours is, emphatically, the enlightened age of dollars and cents! Its motto is: POST NUMMOS VIRTUS ;-MONEY FIRST, VIRTUE AFTERWARDS! Utilitarianism is the order of the day. Every thing is estimated in dollars and cents. Almost every order and profession-our literature, our arts, and our sciences-all worship in the temple of Mammon.

2. The temple of God is open during only one day in the week; that of mammon is open during six. Every thing smacks of gold. The fever of avarice is consuming the very heart's blood of our people. Hence that restless desire to grow suddenly rich; hence that feverish agitation of our population; hence broken constitutions and premature old age. If we have not discovered the philosopher's stone, it has surely not been for want of the seeking. If every thing cannot now be turned into gold, it is certainly not for want of unceasing exertions for this purpose.

3. We have even heard of churches having been built on speculation! And if the traveller from some distant clime should chance suddenly to enter one of our fashionable meeting-houses; if he should look at its splendidly-cushioned seats, on which people are seen comfortably lolling, and then glance at the naked walls, and the utter barrenness of all religious emblems and associations in the interior of the building, he would almost conclude that he had entered, by mistake, into some finely-furnished lecture-room, where the ordinary topics of the day were to be discussed.

4. And if he were informed that this edifice had been erected and furnished by a joint-stock company on shares, and that these shrewd speculators looked confidently to the income from the rent of the seats as a return for their investment, his original impression would certainly not be weakened. But the conclusion would be irresistible, if he were told still farther, that, in order to secure a good attendance of the rich and fashionable, the owners of the stock had taken the pru dent precaution to engage, at a high salary, some popular and eminent preacher! Those who have watched closely the signs of the times, will admit that this is not a mere fancy sketch, and that it is not even exaggerated.

5. Alas alas! for the utilitarianism, or rather materialism, of our boasted age of enlightenmer t! In such a condition of things, can we wonder at the general prevalence of religious indifference, and of unblushing infidelity? As in the days of

Horace, our children are taught to calculate, but not to pray They learn arithmetic, but not religion.

6. The mischievous maxim, that children must grow up without any distinctive religious impressions, and then, when they have attained the age of discretion, must choose a religion for themselves, is frightfully prevalent amongst us. This maxim is about as wise as would be that of the agriculturist who should resolve to permit his fields to lie neglected in the spring season, and to become overgrown with weeds and briers, under the pretext that, when summer would come, it would be time enough to scatter over them the good seed! It amounts to this: human nature is corrupt and downward in its tendency; let it fester in its corruption, and become confirmed in its rottenness; and then it will be time enough to apply the remedy, or, rather, human nature will then react and heal itself. MT. REV. ABP. SPALDING.

IT

22. GRACE DARLING.

T was in the Fall of 1838, during a terrific storm, that a noble British steamer was wrecked upon the dangerous reefs of Longstone Island, and all night long a portion of the crew clung to the shattered vessel, with fearful waves dashing over them. Rocks and dangerous islets lay between them and the nearest shore, and around these a sea was raging, through which it did not seem possible any boat could pass. The Longstone lighthouse was a mile distant. At daybreak the keeper saw the terrible state of the shipwrecked, but feared to expose himself to certain destruction by going to their aid, until the earnest entreaties of his young daughter, Grace, determined him to make the attempt, and nine persons were rescued by the aid of an old man and a young woman.

2. This heroic deed shot a thrill of sympathy and admiration throughout all Europe. The lonely lighthouse became

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