in France, if indeed, any be left there. In the reign of Henry IV, the court usually dined at eleven, which custom was continued for some time after Louis XIV ascended the throne.-In the provinces, at any considerable distance from Paris, it is still very common to dine at nine in the morning, and to sup at five.

The marquis de Mirabeau tells us he was assured by several old Parisians, that in their youth, a tradesman who did not constantly work, in the longest days, two hours by candlelight, either in the morning or evening was considered as an idle person, and met with no encouragement. He adds a curious historical circumstance, for which he gives the authority of that admirable historian Davila. "It was on the twelfth of May 1585, (says he) that the troops of Henry III took post in several parts of Paris, and the inhabitants at the noise of the drums, began to shut up their houses and shops, which in that city had for some time been open. And in the same passage Davila positively says that the whole commotion was over before daylight; and in the month of May it is day-light by three o'clock. -In the year 1750, continues the marquis, on the same day of May I crossed the most trading and populous part of the city at six o'clock in the morning, and all was close, except a few huts where they sold spirituous liquors.

ABRAHAM.

Many of the incidents related in sacred history have, besides the authority of holy writ for their truth, more than the attractiveness of the most ingenious works of fiction to recommend them. From these the Jewish writers on the one hand and the fathers of the Christian church on the other have constructed some stories, embellishing matters of fact with effusions of fancy and imagination. Many of those are well worth the labour of digging up from that state of interment to which they have been for ages consigned by the frivolity of the world. Among them I reckon an account given us of the conversion of Abraham from idolatry, which I send you for publication.

Abraham may be said to have sucked in the poison of idolatry with his milk; his father Jerah who was a maker of statues having brought up his son to the trade, and taught him that they were to be worshipped as gods. Genebrand in his sacred chre

nology says, that the Jewish writers relate of Abraham that he followed the same business for a considerable time-but Maimonides,* the most learned, faithful, and ingenious of the Jewish Rabbis says that he was bred up in the religion of the Sabeans who acknowledged no Deity but the stars; that his reflections on the nature of the planets, and his admiration of their motions, beauty and order made him conclude there must be a being superior to the machine of the universe-a being who created and governed it: however he did not renounce Paganism till the fiftieth year of his age: and Heidegger in his history of the Patriarchs relates the following very curious circumstance respecting that conversion.

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Abraham's father (Jerah) having gone on a journey left him to sell the statues in his absence. A man who pretended to be a purchaser asked him how old he was. Abraham answered "fifty"—" wretch that thou art, said the other, for adoring, at such an age, a being that is only one day old." These words greatly confounded Abraham. Some time afterwards a woman brought him some flour, to be given as an offering to the idols: but Abraham instead of doing so, took up a hatchet and broke them all to pieces, excepting the largest into the hand of which he put the weapon. Jerah, at his return, asked whence came all this havock-Abraham made answer that the statues had had a great contest which should eat first of the oblation; "upon which (said he) the god you see there being the stoutest, hewed the others to pieces with that hatchet." Jerah told him this was bantering; for those idols had not the sense to act in that manner. Abraham retorted these words upon his father against the worshipping of such gods. Jerah, stung with his raillery, delivered up his son to the cognizance of Nimrod, the sovereign of the country, who exhorted Abraham to worship the fire; and, upon his refusal

• Mamonides was so distinguished as a scholar, a physician, and a divine, that he was said to be inferior only to Moses. Some of his works were written in Arabic but are now extant only in Hebrew. The most famous of these was his commentaries on the Misna-jad, a complete pandect of the Jewish law-More Nevochim, a valuable work, explaining the difficult passages, phrases, parables, and allegories, in scripture and some other works. His death was mourned for three whole days by all Jews and Egyptians; and the year in which he died was called Lamentum lamentabile.

commaned him to be thrown into the flames.

"Now let your

god (said he) come and deliver you." But (adds the tradition) Abraham came safe and sound out of the flames. St. Jerome, however, to whom we are indebted for some observations on this affair, and who seems to credit it in general, disbelieves that part which makes Jerah so cruel as to be the informer against his son. This part of the fiction is ascribed to the ambiguity of the Hebrew word Uz, which signifies fire, and is also the proper name of a city.

ORIGINAL POETRY.-FOR THE PORT FOLIO.

The following little poem, written by a young lady of Philadelphia, was occasioned by the frequent contemplation of the picture of a hermit, hanging in her bed-chamber in which picture was a fine view of the ocean.

On precious semblance of a grief resign'd!
Exalted piety to meekness join'd!

How should thy image to the breast impart
The calm we seek to sooth a troubled heart!
Yet calm distressful, bought by many a tear,
As furrowed in thy cheeks the proofs appear.
In thy lone cell what days of anguish past;
What nightly watchings, penitence and fast!
How oft before thy cross thy knees were bent,
'Ere yet thy bosom hailed the guest Content!
With supplicating hands and upraised eye,
Still to the throne of Mercy breathed the sigh,
Which not to piety alone was given,

Nor yet was all thy treasure stored in heaven:
Some spark of earthly bliss yet drew thee thence;
Hope's last faint glimmerings bound thee still to sense;
Gave to the ivy'd arch or humid wall,

A ray which brighten'd still at Fancy's call.

Oft has the book devotional been spread;

Thine eye perused it while Attention fled:
That priestly garb, which outward witness bore,
That earthly good or ill could sway no more,

Still hid the inward conflict of the soul,
'Ere yet the vow monastic claim'd control.
Haply that swelling ocean, whose blue wave,
Flows at thy feet, some other shores may lave.
And wake thy fond regret, while still survey'd
The far horizon, which to thought convey'd;
This spot beloved, too frequent imag'd there,
And of thy vot'ry skies partook the care.

So meteors lure, which cross the traveller's way,
Leading the nightly wand'rer far astray;
So flit before him 'till the day appears,
Shows him his danger,-wakens all his fears;
Gives him his weary steps again to trace
The briery thicket and the deep morass:
By many a toilsome round at length he gains
His home, his wish'd for port once more obtains.

Thus penitent rever'd, thy trials past,

Thou gain'st the truest bliss which mortals taste.
Come, blest religion! sooth each aching breast!
Thy pilgrimage we fear, but crave thy rest.

THE BATTLE OF BRIDGEWATER,

In imitation of Campbell's Hohenlinden.
“Neutra acies laeta ex certamine abiit.”—Livy.
O'ER Huron's wave the sun was low,
The weary soldier watch'd the bow
Fast fading from the cloud below

The dashing of Niagara.

And while the phantom chain'd his sight,
Ah! little thought he of the fight-
The horrors of the dreamless night,

That posted on so rapidly.

Soon, soon is fled each softer charm;
The drum and trumpet sound alarm,
And bid each warrior nerve his arm

For boldest deeds of chivalry.

The burning red-cross, waving high,
Like meteor in the evening sky,
Proclaims the haughty foemen nigh

To try the strife of rivalry.

Columbia's banner floats as proud,
Her gallant band around it crowd,
And swear to guard or make their shroud
The starred flag of Liberty.

"Haste, haste thee Scott, to meet the foe,
And let the scornful Briton know,

Well strung the arm and firm the blow

Of him who strikes for liberty."

Loud, loud the din of battle rings,

Shrill through the ranks the bullet sings,

And onward fierce each foeman springs

To meet his peer in gallantry.

Behind the hills descends the sun,

The work of death is but begun,

And red through twilight's shadows dun

Blazes the vollied musquetry.

"Charge, Miller, charge the foe once more,"

And louder than Niagara's roar

Along the line is heard, encore

"On, on to death or victory."

From line to line, with lurid glow,

High arching shoots the rocket's bow,
And lights the mingled scene below

Of carnage, death, and misery.

The middle watch has now begun,
The horrid battle fray is done,
Nor longer beats the furious drum,

To death, to death or victory.

All, all is still-with silent tread

The watchman steals among the dead,

To guard his comrade's lowly bed,

Till morning give him sepulture