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Suffused the tear-drops there with rosy light.
There seemed a glory round us, and Teresa
The angel of the vision!

Hadst thou seen

How, in each motion, her most innocent soul

Beamed forth and brightened, thou thyself wouldst tell me, Guilt is a thing impossible in her!


She must be innocent!


Character of David Brainerd and Henry Martyn.ROBERT HALL.

THE life and diary of David Brainerd, missionary to the American Indians, exhibits a perfect pattern of the qualities which should distinguish the instructor of rude and barbarous tribes; the most invincible patience and. self-denial, the profoundest humility, exquisite prudence, indefatigable industry, and such a devotedness to God, or rather such an absorption of the whole soul in zeal for the divine glory and the salvation of men, as is scarcely to be paralleled since the age of the apostles. Such was the intense ardor of his mind, that it seems to have diffused the spirit of a martyr over the most common incidents of his life. His constitutional melancholy, though it must be regarded as a physical imperfection, imparts an additional interest and pathos to the narrative; since we more easily sympathize with the emotions of sorrow than of joy. There is a monotony in his feelings, it must be acknowledged, and consequently a frequent repetition of the same ideas, which will disgust a fastidious or superficial reader; but it is the monotomy of sublimity.

The religious public have lately been favored with a rich accession to the recorded monuments of exalted

"piety in the life and religious experience of the lamented Henry Martyn. It is delightful to behold, in the history of that extraordinary man, talents which attracted the admiration of one of the most celebrated seats of learning, consecrated to the honor of the cross; an enterprising genius, in the ardor of youth, relinquishing the pursuit of science and fame, in order to travel in the steps of a Brainerd and a Schwartz. Crowned with the highest honors a university could bestow, we see him quit the luxurious shades of academic bowers, for a tempestuous ocean and a burning clime,-for a life of peril and fatigue, from which he could expect no other reward than the heroic pleasure of communicating to perishing millions the word of eternal life. He appears to have formed his religious character chiefly on the model of Brainerd, and as he equalled him in his patience, fortitude, humility and love, so he strictly resembled him in his end. Both, nearly at the same age, fell victims to a series of intolerable privations and fatigues, voluntarily incurred in the course of their exertions for the propagation of the faith of Jesus. And, though their death was not a violent one, the sacrifices they made and the sufferings they endured entitle them to the honors and rewards of a protracted martyrdom. Their memory will be cherished by the veneration of all succeeding ages; and he who reads. their lives will be ready to exclaim, "Here is the faith and patience of the saints."


Winter and Summer.-SHELLEY.

It was a winter, such as when birds do die
In the deep forests; and the fishes lie
Stiffened in the translucent ice, which makes
Even the mud and slime of the warm lakes

A wrinkled clod as hard as brick; and when,
Among their children, comfortable men
Gather about great fires, and yet feel cold:
Alas! then for the homeless beggar old!

It was a bright and cheerful afternoon,
Towards the end of the sunny month of June,
When the north wind congregates in crowds
The floating mountains of the silver clouds
From the horizon-and the stainless sky
Opens beyond them like eternity.

All things rejoiced beneath the sun; the weeds,
The river, and the cornfields, and the reeds;
The willow leaves, that glanced in the light breeze,
And the firm foliage of the larger trees.


Close of Life.-ANONYMOUS.

T. Hood.

WE watched her breathing through the night,

Her breathing soft and low,

As in her breast the wave of life

Kept heaving to and fro.

So silently we seemed to speak,

So slowly moved about,

As we had lent her half our powers
To eke her living out.

Our very hopes belied our fears,
Our fears our hopes belied;

We thought her dying when she slept,
And sleeping when she died.

For when the morn came dim and sad,
And chill with early showers,
Her quiet eyelids closed-she had
Another morn than ours.


The Mermaid's Song.-HANNAH F. GOULD.

COME, mariner, down in the deep with me,
And hide thee under the wave;

For I have a bed of coral for thee,
And quiet and sound shall thy slumber be,
In cell in the mermaid's cave.

On a pillow of pearl thine eye shall sleep,
And nothing disturb thee there;

The fishes their silent vigils shall keep--
There shall be no grass thy grave to sweep,
But the silk of the mermaid's hair.

And she who is waiting with cheek so pale,
As the tempest and ocean roar,

And weeps when she hears the menacing gale,
Or sighs to behold the mariner's sail

Come whitening up to the shore,

She has not long to linger for thee;

Her sorrows shall soon be o'er;

For the chords shall be broke, and the prisoner free,
And her eye shall close, and her dreams shall be
So sweet she will wake no more.


Winter Evening in an Icelandic Family.-HENderson.


A WINTER evening in an Icelandic family presents a scene in the highest degree interesting and pleasing. Between three and four o'clock, the lamp is hung up in the principal apartment, which answers the double pose of a bed-chamber and sitting-room, and all the members of the family take their station, with their work in their hands, on their respective beds, all of which face each other. The master and mistress, together with the children, or other relations, occupy the beds at the inner end of the room; the rest are filled by the servants.

The work is no sooner begun, than one of the family, selected on purpose, advances to a seat near the lamp, and commences the evening lecture, which generally consists of some old saga, or such other histories as are to be obtained on the island. Being but badly supplied with printed books, the Icelanders are under the necessity of copying such as they can get the loan of, which sufficiently accounts for the fact, that most of them write a hand equal in beauty to that of the ablest writing-masters in other parts of Europe. Some specimens of their Gothic writing are scarcely inferior to copperplate. The reader is frequently interrupted, either by the head, or some of the more intelligent members of the family, who make remarks on various parts of the story, and propose questions, with a view to exercise the ingenuity of the children and servants. In some houses, the sagas are repeated by such as have got them by heart; and instances are not uncommon of itinerating historians, who gain a livelihood during the winter, by staying at different farms till they have exhausted their stock of literary knowledge. It is greatly to be deplored, that a people so distinguished by their love of science, and possessing the most favorable

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