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MIND YOUR BUSINESS." This is an excellent exhortation, which in the days of yore, we used to see stamped upon some of the oldfashioned Rhode Island coin.-" Mind your Business." There was more real value to our fathers in these three words, than there was in the coppers on which they stood imprinted; more value, because they not only admonished the holder to go to work honestly to obtain more of them, but they were calculated to promote his health as they increased his industry, and 10 make him respectful as they kept him out of other people's business. Reader ! let these words, as the saying is, "stare you full in the face," whenever you sally out into the idler's list, or whenever you are on the point of inquiring into the concerns or meddling with the business of others in which you have no interest; and, our word for it, yourself will be the gainer.

Every man will have his own criterion in forming his judgment of others. I depend very much on the effect of affliction. I consider how a man comes out of the furnace: gold will lie for a month in the furnace without losing a grain. And, while under trial, a child has a habit of turning to his father; he is not like a penitent who has been whipped into this state: it is natural to him. It is dark, and the child has no where to run, but to his father.

When Ramsay was one day complimenting Newton on the new lights which he had ihrown upon science, he made the following splendid answer:

"Alas? I am only like a child picking up pebbles on the great ocean of truth.”


If you have a friend whom you esteem and wish to retain, resent not too quickly truths which may have been imparted in moments of confidence, perhaps for your own benefit. Those who are unreserved and candid in their communications are more valuable as

friends, than such as have the gift of suiting their faces to all occasions. Those who would give advice should first carefully ascertain whether they are qualified to do so; and next, whether it will be acceptable; else, what they may mean as a kindness, may be interpreted as impertinence.

THE CHRISTIAN AND THE WORLDLING. This life to the worldling is one continued dreama fairy land in which his senses are bewildered, and an ignis fatuus which leads on the miserable wanderer in the pursuit of what he never attains till death breaks the enchantment, and the wretched victim of his own follies is awakened to inconceivable wo.

But if life is a dream to others, it is not so to the Christian. It is with him the morning of eternity; he wakes and watches, while those around him sleep, and enjoys all the blissful realities of certain existence. The dayspring from on high diffuses its light through his soul, while many of his fellow travellers are enveloped in darkness. With him, time loses its fleetness, the world its follies, and the grave its terrors. He stands upon a point, from whence he perceives all perishing around him; but though the earth should recede from his footsteps; even though the everlasting mountains may tremble, and the perpetual hills may bow, yet he, in exulting adoration, stands fast: the immutable promises of Jehovah are his sure foundation, and the atoning blood of Christ his certain refuge. Life is with him the glimmering twilight, chequered with clouds indeed, but irradiated with a ray of light divine, which at death dawns into everlasting day.

Soon will my soul throw off this mortal covering like the bird stretching its wings for flight, to seek a milder region; when death's cold wintry blast shall lay this body low, my soul shall soar on high to happie climes where are no changes, where winter never enters but a perpetual verdure crowns the year, and spring fa ever reigns.


For the Monthly Repository, and Library of Entertaining Keowledge, ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY, SOON AFTER HER MOTHER,

Whisperd that parting soul

Which spread its wing so free
Above this world's control,

“My first-born !--Come with me?"
And gladly did thy thought

The blessed cal obey,
Feeling this Earth had nought

A mother's loss to pay?
Yet youth with radiant charm

And promise was thy own,
And many a loving arm

Around thy form was thrown,
But deeper, purer bliss

Allurd thy trusting eye,
A sainted mother'e kiss,

The welcome of the sky.

(From the Token for 1832,-hy Grenville Mellen.)

On viering the Asylum for the Deaf and Dumb at Hartford, Conn.

“And in thy silence was his sentence."
There stand for ever! God will bear thee up,
While lesser things of earth shall pass away :
So sure is Mercy still to crown the cup,
The bitterest cup of human destiny !

Joy! that a flame in noble hearts is left,
To light your shadowed path, ye stricken and bereft,

Holy retreat of the unspotted soul!
That hearest not the world's loud tongue proclaim
Its tale of nothing o'er the madd’nmg bowl,
Where Pride and Genius sink to Guilt and Shame-
Thou shalt survive, a glory to mankind,
When we shall make our graves, nor leave a name behind.

There is no noise of mirth within thy halls,
Though the full flood of Life is rolling there,
A thousand tongues—but still no echo falls
A thousand prayers—but still no sound of prayer !

A thousand spirits there may melt to song,
Though 'tis the heart's deep music, silent, but how strong!

There is no sound of mourning in thy halls,
Though Sorrow there oft lifts her tearful eye,
But living Stillness moves along thy walls,
Where ears are sentenced for eternity!

Oppressive Silence! where one feels alone,
As if all souls from their mortality had Hown.

God has sealed up all lips-all lips are still-
Has closed all ears, till sound itself is o'er;
And now no discord wakes a warring will,
Or waves unholy break on Passion's shore.

Peace is the watchword on this hallowed groundReligion speaks in silent eloquence around !

O God! thy dispensation none can tell,
Or human irailty dream how dark may be
Thy visitations on us-for the spell
That can unveil the Future, bides with Thee,

In thy blue home, Thou unapproached and highOne, and alone, in thy unchanging majesty!

Yet These shall turn impassioned to the sky, In deep though voiceless praise around thy throne, That they can grasp creation with the eye, And read the lines ihat teach them 'tis thine own! Well may ye glory in so proud a shrine, Whose virtues almost make humanity divine!

Yes-bright and glorious are ye set,

In unalloyed and stainless light,
Like gems around the coronet

That gilds the dusky brow of night.
Hign-oign adove the qarken'd earth

Your mystic course hath ever been,
Shedding ine same pale radiance forth;

Upon the dim abodes of men.
Earth's glories pass-her proudest things

Give token of their sure decay-
The shade of final ruin clings

Around the beautiful and gay.
The tower that guards the monarch's form

Is numbered soon with visions past-
The oak that battles with the storm

Lays down its verdant head at last.
But there ye shine-in light and love,

As pure as at creation's dawn,
When through the glorious realms above

Your anthem hailed the rising inorn!

The chance and change of human ill

Affect ye not-nor stain of crime;
But here ye shine in beauty still,

Unsullied by the wing of time.
The earth has much to lift us up

Beyond its scenes of care and strife,
And mingle in our bitter cup

The foretaste of a happier life;
But nought of all created things

Hath power like yonder starry sky
To lend the soul ethereal wings,

And lift the chainless thouyht on high.

SUNSET THOUGHTS. How beautiful the setting sun reposes o’er the wave! Like virtue, life's drear warfare done, descending to the grave; Yet smiling with a brow of love, benignant, pure, and kind, And blessing, ere she soars above the realms she leaves behind.

The cloudlets, edged with crimson light, veil o'er the blue serene,
While swift the legions of the night are shadowing o'er the scene;
The sea-gull with a wailing moan up starting, turns to seek
Iis lonely dwelling-place, upon the promontory's peak.
The heaving sea--the distant hill—the waning sky--the woods--
With melancholy musing fill the swelling heart that broods
Upon the light of other days, whose glories now are dull,
And on the visions Hope could raise, vacant, but beautiful !
Where are the bright illusions vain, that fancy boded forth!
Sunk to their silent caves again, Aurora of the North ?
Oh! who would live those visions o'er, all brilliant though they

Since Earth is but a desert shore, and Life a wcary dream!

Wo to those who trample o'er a mind!
a deathless thing: --They know not what they do,
Or what they deal with !-Man perchance may bind
The flower his step hath bruised; or light anew
The torch he quenches, or to music wind
Again the lyre-string from his torch that flew-
But for the soul!--oh! tremble and beware
To lay rude hands upon God's mysteries there.

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