THOUGHTS IN SPARE MINUTES.

WHEN I see the heavenly sun buried under earth in the evening of the day, and in the morning to find a resurrection of his glory, why (think I) may not the sons of heaven, buried in the earth in the evening of their days, expect the morning of their glorious resurrection? Each night is but the past day's funeral, and the morning his resurrection: why then should our funeral sleep be otherwise than our sleep at night? Why should not we as well wake to our resurrection as in the morning? I see night is rather an intermission of day than a deprivation, and death rather borrows our life of us than robs us of it. Since, then, the glory of the sun finds a resurrection, why should not the sons of glory?

Warwick.

"Now" is the constant syllable ticking from the

clock of time.

Tupper.

RICHES.

LET me tell you, I have a rich neighbour that is always so busy, that he has no leisure to laugh; the whole business of his life is to get money, and more money, that he may still get more and more money. He is still drudging on, and says that Solomon says, "the diligent hand maketh rich"; and it is true indeed, but he considers not that it is not in the power of riches to make a man happy. It was wisely said, by a man of great observation, "that there be as many miseries beyond riches as on this side of them"; and yet God deliver us from pinching poverty, and grant that, having a competency, we may be content and thankful. Let us not repine, or so much as think the gifts of God unequally dealt, if we see another abound with riches, when, as God knows, the cares that are the keys that keep those riches, hang often so heavily at the rich man's girdle, that they clog him with weary days and restless nights, when others sleep quietly. Let us, therefore, be thankful for health and competence, and above all, for a quiet conscience. Izaak Walton.

TO AN EARLY PRIMROSE.

MILD offspring of a dark and sullen sire,
Whose modest form, so delicately fine,
Was nursed in whirling storms,

And cradled in the winds.

Thee, when young Spring first question'd Winter's

sway,

And dared the sturdy blusterer to the fight,

Thee on this bank he threw

To mark his victory.

In this low vale, the promise of the year,

Serene, thou openest to the nipping gale,

Unnoticed and alone,

Thy tender elegance.

So virtue blooms, brought forth amid the storms

Of chill adversity; in some lone walk

Of life she rears her head,

Obscure and unobserved;

While every bleaching breeze that on her blows,
Chastens her spotless purity of breast,

And hardens her to bear

Serene the ills of life.

H. Kirke White.

PAINTING and Poetry are most glorious gifts,
Which God hath given, with their sweet sister,
Music,

To cheer life's pilgrim. Earnest, methinks, are they,
Of high things yet to come, when earth shall cease
Her groanings for deliverance. Not less pure
Is that calm, inexpressive love of nature,
Which leads th' enthusiast to the green hill's side,
Or streamlet's bank, or by the billowy shore,
Lingering and listening to the sea bird's cry,
Or winds contending round the cliff storm-bleach'd,
Making a solemn concert with the billows,
That ceaseless come and go; great Nature's pulse.

ON THE LIFE OF MAN.

SOME men have no other business in the world but to be born that they may be able to die; others float up and down two or three turns, and suddenly disappear, and give place to others; and they that live longest upon the face of the waters, are in perpetual motion, restless, and uneasy, and being crushed with the great drop of a cloud, sink into flatness and froth; the change not being great, it being hardly possible it should be more a nothing than it was before. So is every man: he is born in vanity and sin; he comes into the world like morning mushrooms, soon thrusting up their heads into the air, and conversing with the kindred of the same production, and as soon they turn into dust and forgetfulness! some of them without any other interest in the affairs of the world, but that they made their parents a little glad, and very sorrowful: others ride longer in the storm, it may be until seven years of