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Then Wisdom stole his bat and ball,

And taught him, with most sage endeavor,
Why bubbles rise, and acorns fall,

And why no joy may last forever;
She talked of all the wondrous laws
Which Nature's open book discloses ;
But Childhood, when thêre was a pause,
Was fast asleep among the roses.

Sleep on, sleep on!-pale Manhood's dreams
Are all of earthly pain or pleasure;
Of glory's toils, ambition's schemes,
Of cherished love or hoarded treasure;
But to the couch where Childhood lies
A pure unmingled trance is given,
Lit up by rays from seraph eyes,
And glimpses of remembered heaven!

SIR EDWARD L. "BULWER.

LXXI. THE BIBLE.

I LOOK upon the Bible as the oldest and best of books. The history of creation is said, by Strabo, to have been handed down to the Egyptians by a Chaldean shepherd; and its superiority to all other books is proved by the one important circumstance of its influence in civilizing mankind. Its doctrines are infinitely superior to those of the Mahometan °Koran, and of the Talmud of the rabbis.

The Bible inculcates universal charity, which word signifies in the original, love. To say nothing of the glorious principle of love, the laws which it inculcates are, at the same time, the most lenient and powerful. Human laws are founded upon them; but they are like the rays of light, compared with the sources from whence they spring. On the sacred page of the Bible, we find woman elevated to her proper dignity; but, among those nations where it is not read, woman is the drudge, and man the tyrant.

The light of learning and wisdom flourishes where the Bible is read; but at its boundary commences the night of darkness and superstition. It has illuminated the world of literature and science, and cast a halo of glory around the atmosphere of intellect. It smiles on the calm and sunny scenes of life, and gilds the evening skies of the faithful in the dark hour of death. What the compass is to the mariner, the Bible is to the world. It teaches the king in the government of his empire, and the peasant in the tilling of his field.

It proposes reward to virtue, and punishment to vice. It interests equally the brilliant intellect and the humble capacity. All that is good, grand, and sublime is contained within it. Many cannot relish it, because their taste is perverted; and many reject it from prejudice and ignorance of its value. To understand the Bible is at once to be introduced to a high source of enjoyment-the highest source on earth. When I hear a man exclaiming against the Bible, I cannot refrain from taxing his mind with ignorance.

If you are a literary character, and wish to behold elegance, perspicuity, and taste, turn over the leaves of the sacred book. Are you pleased with poetry? You have at once an inexhaustible fountain. You have beautiful scenery, sparkling imagery, and ideas clothed in sublimity of language. It contains numerous specimens of the angelic lyre; and I doubt whether there is such a field for the poet in the world. The poet who draws his scenes from the Bible, never can fail to please: his writings are always new.

Are you pleased with the thunders of eloquence? Here is another inexhaustible source. Some passages of Scripture are irresistible. What can be more grand and sublime than David's description of the appearance of the Most High? "He bowed the heavens also, and came down, and darkness was under his feet: he rode upon a cherub, and did fly; and he was seen upon the wings of the wind." Do you ask for more such passages? I could quote a volume; but let the description which the prophet Habakkuk gives of the grandeur of God suffice. "Before him went the pestilence, and burning coals went forth at his feet: he stood and measured the earth; he beheld and drove asunder the nations: the everlasting mountains were scattered; the perpetual hills did bow; his ways are everlasting."

It was such eloquence that made Felix tremble on his throne. But poetry and eloquence are not the only beauties of the Bible. We there find sound science and philosophy; there we find history the most perfect; and there, too, we have the biography of many great and learned men. In the Bible, we have the history of him who groaned on Calvary. From that sacred summit a flood of light broke forth upon the world. It was the dawn of redemption! Superstition fled affrighted, before the glorious appearance of Christianity, and the church of the living God arose on the ruins of the heathen altar. The automatons of pagan idolatry tumbled to the dust, and the false deities perished on Olympus. That glorious gospel, which effected this great work, is contained within the Bible. Like the rainbow which is hung out in the heavens, it was sent as a token that God would be mindful of us. Glorious token! I rejoice when I read it; and I would recommend it to all my fellow travelers to the grave. The waves of time are rolling on to sweep us away; and, as we pass through the dark vale of death, the light of Calvary will illuminate

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our path to the mansions above. Darkness and death are horrific to the lonely mind; but the Bible will overcome those terrors, and infuse a calm serenity, in the darkest hour of existence.

ANONYMOUS.

LXXII. BINGEN ON THE RHINE.

A SOLDIER of the Legion lay dying in Algiers,

There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears;

But a comrade stood beside him, while the life-blood ebbed away,
And bent, with pitying glances, to hear what he might say.
The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand,
And he said, "I never more shall see my own-my native land!
Take a message and a token to some distant friends of mine,
For I was born at Bingen-at Bingen on the Rhine!

"Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd around,
To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground,
That we fought the battle bravely, and, when the day was done,
Full many a corse lay ghastly pale, beneath the setting sun;
And midst the dead and dying, were some grown old in wars,
The death-wound on their gallant breasts--the last of many scars!
But some were young, and suddenly beheld life's morn decline-
And one had come from Bingen-fair Bingen on the Rhine!

"Tell my mother, that her other sons shall comfort her old age,
For I was still a truant bird, that thought his home a cage;
For my father was a soldier, and, even as a child,

My heart leaped forth to hear him tel of struggles fierce and wild;
And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard,

I let them take whatê'er they would, but kept my father's sword! And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used to shineOn the cottage wall at Bingen-calm Bingen on the Rhine!

"Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head, When the troops come marching home again, with glad and gallant

tread;

But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye,

For her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die!

And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name

To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame;

And to hang the old sword in its place (my father's sword and mine) For the honor of old Bingen-dear Bingen on the Rhine!

"There's another-not a sister-in the happy days gone by
You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye;
Too innocent for coquetry, too fond for idle scorning,-

O! friend, I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning!
Tell her the last night of my life (for, ere the moon be risen,
My body will be out of pain, my soul be out of prison)

I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine
On the vine-clad hills of Bingen-fair Bingen on the Rhine!

"I saw the blue Rhine sweep along-I heard, or seemed to hear,
The German songs we used to sing, in chorus sweet and clear;
And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill,
The echoing chorus sounded, through the evening calm and still;
And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed, with friendly talk,
Down many a path beloved of yore, and well-remembered walk;
And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine—

But we'll meet no more at Bingen-loved Bingen on the Rhine !"

His trembling voice grew faint and hoarse, his gasp was childish weak,
His eyes put on a dying look—he sighed, and ceased to speak;
His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled-
The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land was dead!
And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down
On the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody corses strewn !
Yes, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to shine,
As it shone on distant Bingen-fair Bingen on the Rhine!

MRS. S. E. Norton.

LXXIII.-RELIEF OF LUCKNOW.

The following account of the relief of Lucknow, was written by a lady, one of the rescued party :

ON every side death stâred us in the face; no human skill could Pavert it any longer. We saw the moment approach when we must bid farewell to earth, yet without feeling that unutterable horror which must have been experienced by the unhappy victims at Cawnpore. We were resolved rather to die than yield, and were fully perThe engineers suaded that in twenty-four hours all would be over. had said so, and all knew the worst. each other, and to perform the light duties which had been assigned to us, such as conveying orders to the batteries and supplying the men with provisions, especially cups of coffee, which we prepared day and night.

We women strove to encourage

I had gone out to try and make myself useful, in company with Jessie Brown, the wife of a corporal in my husband's regiment. Poor Jessie had been in a state of restless excitement all through the siege, and had fallen away visibly within the last few days. A constant fever consumed her, and her mind wandered occasionally, especially that day, when the recollections of home seemed powerfully present to her. At last, overcome with fatigue, she lay down on the ground, wrapped up in her plaid. I sat beside her, promising to awaken her when, as she said, "her father would return from the ploughing." She fell at length into a profound slumber, motionless and apparently breathless, her head resting in my lap. I myself could no longer resist the inclination to sleep, in spite of the continual roar of the cannon. Suddenly I was aroused by a wild, unearthly scream close to my ear; my companion stood upright beside me, her arms raised, and her head bent forward in the attitude of listening. A look of intense delight broke over her countenance, she grasped my hand, drew me towards her, and exclaimed, "Dinna ye hear it? dinna ye hear it? Ay, I'm no dreamin', it's the slogan o' the Highlanders! We're saved! We're saved!" Then, flinging herself on her knees, she thanked God with passionate fervor.

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I felt utterly bewildered: my English ears heard only the roar of artillery, and I thought my poor Jessie was still raving; but she darted to the batteries, and I heard her cry incessantly to the men, "Courage! courage! hark to the slogan-to the Macgregor, the grandest of them a'! Here's help at last!" To describe the effect of these words upon the soldiers would be impossible. For a moment they ceased firing, and every soul listened in intense anxiety. Gradually, however, there arose a murmur of bitter disappointment, and the wailing of the women who had flocked to the spot burst out anew as the colonel shook his head. Our dull lowland ears heard nothing but the rattle of the musketry. A few moments more of this deathlike suspense, of this agonizing hope, and Jessie, who had sunk on the ground, sprang to her feet, and cried, in a voice so clear and piercing that it was heard along the whole line, "Will ye no believe it noo? The slogan has ceased indeed, but the Campbells are comin'! D'ye hear, d'ye hear?"

At that moment we seemed indeed to hear the voice of God in the distance, when the "pibroch of the Highlanders brought us tidings of deliverance, for now there was no longer any doubt of the fact. That shrill, penetrating, ceaseless sound, which rose above all other sounds, could come neither from the advance of the enemy nor from the work of the Sappers. No, it was indeed the blast of the Scottish bagpipes, now shrill and harsh, as threatening vengeance on the foe, then in softer tones seeming to promise succor to their friends in need.

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