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by its long and slender thread from the roof above his head, and endeavored, with a perseverance which was unconquered by repeated defeats, to swing itself from one joist or rafter to another. Bruce watched its efforts, and unconsciously became interested in them. Six times it essayed to reach the destined point; six times it had failed, and fallen back. He was led, not unnaturally, to draw a parallel between himself and the insect, whose determination of purpose he admired; and with a superstition, which no one acquainted with the human mind will pronounce unnatural, he resolved that he would regulate his own conduct by its ultimate success or failure. The seventh effort was made; the spider attained its object, and fixed its web, and Bruce, not a little encouraged by this augury, dreamed no more of deserting Scotland. He accordingly retired into the most mountainous and inaccessible parts of the country, and whilst the English beset his haunts on every side, had the good fortune to escape the toils which were laid for him.*

JOHN MILTON.

Strong liquors of all sorts were his aversion.

The following is Milton's own description of his morning occupations." My morning haunts are where they should be, at home; not sleeping, or concocting the surfeits of an irregular feast; but up, and stirring; in winter, often ere sound of any bell awakes men to labor or to devotion; in summer, as oft with the bird that first rises, or not much tardier, to read good authors, or cause them to be read, till the attention be weary, or memory have its full freight; then with useful and generous labors preserving the body's health and hardiness, to render lightsome, clear, and not lumpish obedience to the mind, to the cause of religion, and our country's liberty, when it shall require firm hearts in sound bodies to stand and cover their stations, rather than to see the ruin of our protestation and the enforcement of a slavish life."

*The tradition is strongly corroborated by the fact, that of the present day, in Scotland, on individual of the name of Bruce will willingly kill a spider.

"L 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 Busi ness." 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 to 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 thrown upon science, he made the following splendid answer: "Alas? I am only like a child picking up pebbles on the great ocean of truth."

A SCRAP.

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.

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THE CHRISTIAN AND THE WORLDLING.

This life to the worldling is one continued dream— a 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.

POETRY.

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

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On viewing 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'ning 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 flown.

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 ground-
Religion speaks in silent eloquence around!

O God! thy dispensation none can tell,
Or human frailty 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 high-
One, 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 that teach them 'tis thine own! Well may ye glory in so proud a shrine, Whose virtues almost make humanity divine!

THE STARS.

Yes-bright and glorious are ye set,
In unalloyed and stainless light,
Like gems around the coronet

That gilds the dusky brow of night.
High-nign aoove the darken'd earth
Your mystic course hath ever been,
Shedding the 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 morn!

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