while living? I had rather be a beggar than become rich by the base means of flattery and hypocrisy. Shall I endeavour to become powerful? Why, I am but a worm. No, no! none of these things do I desire. When I am summoned to the grave, I only wish a few dear friends to remember me, until they in their turn shall follow me, as one who loved his fellow-men. I desire the wealth and peace of a contented mind; and the power to rule, as a responsible governor, the citadel of my heart. A star has just fallen from heaven. As it went down into the abyss of darkness, so does man fall from the zenith of his glory into the grave. How beautiful are the passages in Scripture which allude to the uncertainty of life? Who does not remember the parable of the ten virgins? "And at midnight there was a cry made: behold the bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet him." How few of this slumbering multitude have their lamps trimmed and burning! How great would be the confusion, were the voice of the bride groom (death) to enter all these dwellings! The miser, roused from his couch of straw, would press his gold to his bosom with a convulsive grasp, while a fiendish smile would pass across his haggard brow. The sinner would awake trembling at the sight of hell, for even then its realities would rush upon his mind. The Christian, with the calmness of conscious rectitude, would deck himself, and go into the street to meet the bridegroom. There, too, is that beautiful "Vision of Mirza," which also illustrates the shortness of life. The great bridge which he saw is still in existence; and it is sad to think of the thousands that have fallen through, unprepared, into the dark waters beneath. I have as yet passed on in safety, but many of my travelling companions are gone. May it be they have been thrown on some hospitable shore. The beautiful islands which Mirza saw far beyond the bridge and deep valley are still attainable; but we must first live a virtuous life, and pass through the portals of the grave. Yes! these bodies must first say to corruption, "Thou art my mother; and to the worm, thou art my brother and sister." How powerful is death! Who can resist his chilly hand, or refuse to quaff the cup of "coal black wine," when it is held forth by him? "It is death alone that can make man to know himself. He tells the proud and insolent that they are but abjects, and humbles them at the instant. He takes the account of the rich man and proves him a beggar. He holds a glass before the eyes of the beautiful and makes them see therein their own deformity, and they acknowledge it. O! eloquent, just, and mighty death! whom none could advise thou hast persuaded; what none have dared thou hast accomplished; and whom all the world have flattered thou alone hast despised; thou hast drawn together all the far-stretched greatness, all the pride and cruelty of man, and covered it all over with these two words, hic jacet." But enough. Reader, if you are not already asleep, one thing is certain, you ought to be. I bid you therefore a heartfelt good night, hoping that your dreams will be not of King Death, but of a land where his jurisdiction does not come, and that is Heaven. "Good night! parting is such sweet sorrow, Shakspeare. SUMMER MORNING. Look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east ; Shakspeare. AWAKE! slumberer, awake! Morning is come, bright and beautiful. What a gorgeous crown is that which she is twining on the brow of departing night! The crowing of the cock comes to my ear most sweetly, from the hamlet beyond the vale. Hark! he is answered by another in the east, and still another from the south. They have roused old William Wood from his peaceful slumber and pleasant dreams. There he stands in the door of his cottage, not quite awake, looking out upon the sky. I |