idle know nothing of it. It is exertion that renders rest delightful, and sleep sweet and undisturbed. That the happiness of life depends on the regular prosecution of some laudable purpose or lawful calling, which engages, helps, and enlivens all our powers, let those bear witness who, after spending years in active usefulness, retire, as they suppose, to enjoy themselves.-Jay.

TO THE SKYLARK.

AWAKE, ere the morning dawn-Skylark, arise!
The last of the stars hath waned dim in the skies
The peak of the mountain is purpled in light,
And the grass with the night-dew is diamonded;
The young flowers at morning's call open their eyes;
Then up, ere the break of day, Skylark, arise!

Earth starts like a sluggard half roused from a dream,
Pale and ghast the mist floats away from the stream,
And the cataract hoarsely, that all the night long
Pour'd forth to the desolate darkness its song,
Now softens to music, as brighten the skies;
Then up, ere the dawn of day, Skylark, arise!
Arise from the clover, and up to the cloud,
Ere the sun leaves his chamber in majesty proud,
And his light lowers to earth's meaner things!
Catch the stainless effulgence of heaven on thy wings,
While thy gaze, as thou soarest and singest, shall feast
On the innermost shrine of the uttermost east!

Up, up, with a loud voice of singing! the bee
Will be out to the bloom, and the bird to the tree;
The trout to the pool, and the par to the rill;
The flock to the plain, and the deer to the hill;
Soon the marsh will resound to the plover's lone cries-
Then up, ere the dawn of day, Skylark, arise !
Up, up, with thy praise-breathing anthems! alone
The drowsy-head, man, on his bed slumbers prone;
The stars may go down, and the sun from the deep
Burst forth, still his hands they are folded in sleep:
Let the least in creation the greatest despise-

Then up to Heaven's threshold, blithe Skylark, arise!
Moir.

G

INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY ON THE FEMALE CHARACTER.

THERE is one topic intimately connected with the introduction and decline of Christianity, and subsequently with its revival in Europe, which deserves our peculiar gratitude and attention: I allude to the new and more interesting character assumed by women since those events. In the heathen world she was the slave of man. Christianity constituted her his companion. But, as our religion gradually lost its power in the dark ages, she sunk down again to her deep moral degradation. The age of chivalry, indeed, exalted her to be an object of adoration; but it was a profane adoration, not founded upon the respect due to a being of immortal hopes and destinies, as well as man. This high character has been conceded to her at a later period, as she has slowly attained the rank ordained for her by Heaven. Although this change in relation of woman to man, and to society, is both an evidence and a consequence of an improvement in the human condition, yet now her character is a cause operating to produce a still greater improvement. And if there be any one cause, to which we may look with more confidence than to others, for hastening the approach of a more perfect state of society, that cause is the elevated character of woman, as displayed in the full development of all her moral and intellectual powers.

The influence of the female character is now felt and acknowledged in all the relations of life. I speak not merely of those distinguished women who instruct their age through the public press; but of a much larger class; of those whose influence is felt in the relations of neighbour, friend, daughter, wife, mother. Who wait -at the couch of the sick to administer tender charities, while life lingers, or to perform the last acts of kindness when death comes? Where shall we look for those examples of friendship, that most adorn our nature, those abiding friendships, which trust even when betrayed, and survive all changes of fortune? Where shall we find the brightest illustrations of filial piety?

Have you ever seen a daughter, herself, perhaps, timid

and helpless, watching the decline of an aged parent, and holding out with heroic fortitude to anticipate his wishes, to administer to his wants, and to sustain his tottering steps to the very borders of the grave?

But, in no relation does woman exercise so deep an influence, both immediately and prospectively, as in that of the nurse and instructor of babes. To her charge is committed the immortal treasure of the infant mind. Upon her devolves the care of the first stages of that course of discipline, which is to form, out of a being perhaps the most frail and helpless in the world, the fearless ruler of animated creation, and the devout adorer of its great Creator. Her smiles call into exercise the first affections that spring up in our hearts. She cherishes and expands the earliest germs of our intellects. She lifts our little hands, and teaches our little tongues to lisp in prayer. She watches over us, like a guardian angel, and protects us through all our helpless years, when we know not of her cares and her anxieties on our account. She follows us into the world of men, and lives in us and blesses us, when she lives not otherwise upon the earth. What constitutes the centre of every home? Whither do our thoughts turn, when our feet are weary with wandering, and our hearts sick with disappointment? Where shall the truant and forgetful husband go for sympathy, unalloyed and without design, but to the bosom of her who is ever ready and willing to share in his adversity or his prosperity? And if there be a tribunal, where the sins and follies of a froward child may hope for pardon and forgiveness on this side heaven, that tribunal is the heart of a fond and devoted mother.-J. G. Carter.

SOLITUDE.

DEEP solitude I sought. There was a dell
Where woven shades shut out the eye of day,
While, towering near, the rugged mountains made
Dark back-ground 'gainst the sky. Thither I went,
And bade my spirit drink that lonely draught,
For which it long had languished 'mid the strife
And fever of the world. I thought to be
There without witness. But the violet's eye

Looked up upon me,-the fresh wild-rose smiled,
And the young pendent vine flower kissed my cheek,
And there were voices too. The garrulous brook,
Untiring, to the patient pebbles told

Its history;-up came the singing breeze,
And the broad leaves of the cool poplar spake
Responsive, every one. Even busy life

Woke in that dell.
From spray to spray

The tireless spider threw
her silver-tissued snare.
The wary ant, whose curving pincers pierced
The treasured grain, toiled toward her citadel.
To the sweet hive went forth the loaded bee,
And from the wind-rocked nest, the mother-bird
Sang to her nurslings.

Yet I strangely, thought
To be alone, and silent in thy realm,

Spirit of life and love! It might not be !

There is no solitude in thy domain,

Save what man makes, when, in his selfish breast,
He locks his joys, and bars out others' grief.
Thou hast not left thyself to Nature's round
Without a witness. Trees, and flowers, and streams,
Are social and benevolent, and he

Who oft communeth in their language pure,
Roaming among them at the cool of day,

Shall find, like him who Eden's garden dressed,
His Maker there, to teach his listening heart.
Lydia H. Sigourney.

ON FISHES.

THE fishes which are most abundant, and most frequent in our sight, have pleasing forms. Many are eminently beautiful in their colours, and in the general appearance of their neat and glossy scales. Several have a golden hue and spots difficult to account for, and many a silvery gloss, as though the particles of these two metals were diffused among their skin. Others display a fine tinge of blue; some, very pleasing tints of green. The effect of the whole is, that the general appearance of the fish creation in their forms, colours, brilliancy, gliding movement, rapid and changeful activity, and universal anima

tion and vigour, excites sentiments of pleasure and admiration.

To us, with the exception of a few, they are wholly inoffensive. Not many, even in their own domain, would `molest us, but all, even the most hostile, remain there, helpless and indefensible against our power, however great their magnitude may be.

The general character of fishes is not that of voracity and hostility: it is gentleness, harmlessness, sociality, and animation. They are peaceful animals; happy in themselves, and, for the most part, harmonising together, without any general display of savage cruelty or malignant passions. Such as are appointed to be the food of others, die in that way, and are sought and taken for that purpose, when the appetite actuates, but no further. They cannot be justly stigmatised as voracious for this habit, more than ourselves for taking and eating them and cattle, sheep, fowls, game, and other living creatures.

The mild and harmless character of the fish-class is impressively shown by most of its largest tribes. The great Greenland Whale pursues no other animal, leads an inoffensive life, and is harmless in proportion to its strength. The Sturgeon, with a form as terrible, and a body as large as the Shark, is yet harmless. The great Narwhal, one of the largest and strongest, is one of the most harmless and peaceable inhabitants of the ocean. It is seen constantly sporting among the other great monsters of the deep, no way attempting to injure them.

The ocean, indeed, contains some of a different humour, as the woods and mountains have the wolf and the tiger, but their object seems chiefly food. Fish which devour others for their subsistence, act only as the other carnivorous animals of nature, but they are for the most part indifferent or inoffensive to each other, and many are highly social, flocking peaceably together in shoals.

They have no organ of voice, nor lungs,-yet a few emit sounds. As the Tunnies sail in their vast shoals, they utter a very loud hissing noise. The Ground Ling makes a similar sound when handled. The Scieria Stridens gives a small shriek when first taken out of the water. The great Morse roars like a bull when dis