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And shall it not be so?

Though from thy sight I go,
Will not ray spirit commune with thine own f

Yes; thou shall feel me nigh:

As in bright hours gone by,
I Ml whisper to thee in love's deathless tone.

Yet I must leave thee now.

Loo'! on my cheek and brow,
And press once more my finjcrs, palely chill;

Then lay, while thus we part,

Thy hand upon my heart, That thou mayst catch its last, faint, quivering thrill.

Siill, still remember me,

When o'er the twilight sea
Steals the last glimmer of departing day .

Then, when its waves grow dim,

Seek the dark water's brim,
And think mc with you as we used to stray.

And in the shadowed nook

Where, with a friend or book,
We've lingered oftrn through the sun's decline;

Read from the treasured page

Of poet, seer, or sage:
I '11 listen near thee in the stirless vine.

When autumn's latest flower

Droops in its withered bower, sod the bright hearth invites to mirth and song,

Tune thy soft harp to play

Some old, familiar lay; Ify voice shall join thee when thy heart grows strong.

Take back thy gifts of love.

Long may they deeply prove The dear mementoes of undying faith;

And let them speak of me

Brightly and joyously,
As all unchanged by lengthened years or death.

I would not that one sigh

Or lear-Jrop from thine eye
Should e'er be spent in sorrow o'er my tomb;

Rut plant with flowers the spot

Where I am unforgot,
And gather sweetness from their summer bloom.

And now one farewell more.

Come closer than before—
I cannot see thee with these darkening eyes;

Yet I would fee! thy breath,

E'en as I pass to death,
And hear thee whisper when my spir t flies.

A Romish Nut,—A Roman Catholic priest, some time since, in Germany, entering the pulpit, took a walnut into it. He told the people that the shell was tasteless and valueless—that was Calvin's Church. The skin was nauseous, disagreeable, worthless, valueless—that was the Lutheran Church.' He then said he would show them the holy Roman Apostolic Church. He cracked the nut, and found it rotten.

DIES Irjb.


"Ye have heard of the patience of Job."

There is feasting in the land of Vz. The patriarch's sons are holding high festival. The banquet hath brought together the whole brotherhood of the house of him who feareth God and shunneth evil. The daughters also of the XJzite worshipper join the assemblage of his sons, and eat and drink with their brethren. Joyous gathering! But there is one who hath fears for the festivities of that family. The goblet, red with wine, hath freely gone around that circle, and hearts that should have praised, perchance have cursed Jehovah.

At early morn an altar smokes in the far-off distance at the paternal home. Ten times the blood of bullocks slain crimsons its place, and offerings-burnt are thereon made for the feasters' sins. Bat hecatombs of victim-beasts in bloody sacrifioe for sin now cannot save from doom the guilty eons.

A herald in his haste hath now arrived at the threshold of his home, and tells the fearful father of the ha voc made among the hundreds of his herds, and servants slain by edge of Sabean swords. And while the tale is yet untold, there comes another still, with revelation that the fiery bolts of heaven have fallen fast upon the flocks and them that kept their watch, and burned them all. Anon, and in succession quick, another heralds forth that lawless robber-bands, from off the Chaldee hills, have captured all the burden-beasts, and made their swords drink deeply in their keepers' blood. This hardly said, and yet again a messenger comes in with word that swecping winds from out the wilderness have levelled low his first-born's house, and all his sons are dead beneath its ruins. Catastro phe how sad 1

The patriarch sire hath worshipped. With shaven head and robes all rent, the man of God is prostrate on the earth. Evanished now are all his household joys—his hundred herds, his thousand flocks—yet there comes forth from the fallen man an utterance of words of wisdom: "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord!"

The great man of the East hath set himself down among the ashes. The Evil One bath smitten sorely, and he hath taken a potsherd for a comforter. Curse God and die, is the counsel of the mother of his children; but he heedeth



her not, and albeit retaineth hia integrity. Saith nut the sufferer wisely in the day of big affliction, "Shall we receive good at the hand of the Almighty, and shall we not receive evil also at his hands i"

A friend cometh from Teman. The SUuhite partaker of his hospitality hath also heard of his affliction, and hasteneth to his habitation. They meet there the Naamathite, on like errand, come to mourn with him and to comfort him. They gaze from far, and neither knows the Satanstricken. With mantles rent apart, and sprinkled dust upon their heads, they lift their voices high towards heaven and weep aloud. Howbeit, so great his grief, seven days and nights they speak no word to him they visit. Wise men are they, withholding words from him crushed down to earth with sorrow.

A voice hath broken in upon the seven days' alienee. Long pent-up grief hath burst the soul's strong barriers, and words now tell how full hath been the fountain:

Oh that the day might have perished in which I was born,
And theuiglrt which said, "A male child is conceived!"
That da;—let it be darkness!
Let nat God inquire after it from on high 1
Yea, let not the right shine upon it I
Let darkness and the shadow of death stain it;
Let a cloud dwell upon it;
Let whatever darkens the day terrify it.
That night—let darkness seize upon it I
Let it not rejoice among the days of the year 1
Let it not come into the number of the months.
Oh, that night 1 let it be desolate 1
Let there come in no sound of joy!
Let them who curse the day curse it;
They who are skilful to rouse up Leviathan.
Let the stars of its twilight be darkened;
Let it long for the light, and there be none;
Neither let it see the eyelids of the morning I

Tie Buzite youth, the son of Barachel, bath heard the words of him who cursed his day, so deep his sorrow, and listened well to answers given by those who came to comfort him. His kindled wrath hath ardent grown, because the God whose rule is over all hath not been justified in these his days of visitation; and still, because his aged friends have found no answer to Ibis words, and yet condemn to guiltiness the 3man of sorrow. The youthful visitor hath well nebuked the old men's lack of wisdom, and vindicated all the ways of God with man.

A voice from out the whirlwind hath gone forth among the interlocutors, and words have ceased among them now t Its utterance hath shut the mouths of men who would have others think they knew the ways of the Almighty, and humbled deep in dust the haughtiness of man!

[merged small][ocr errors]< the green hills of Childhood, in th« world of human life, there is a most delightful valley; and farther on, in the more central part of that world, rises a range of glorious mountains, the summits of which reach to the clouds far up in ether. From the budding of spring to the ripening of autumn, a thousand travellers may be seen wending their way towards the goal of youthful anticipations, even unto the land whieh, to them, is fraught with Utopian charms, happy realizations, and celestial beauties. These travellers, when they begin their journey, are but inexperienced children—mere iufauts—heucc their extravagant expectations and their ardent desires. They set out from flowery parterres and flourishing gardens. Some are blessed with guides faithful and willing to lead through "pleasant pastures and by still waters." Yet, alas! many of the prepossessing band are obliged or suffered to travel alone, or, which is infinitely worse, ofttimes with treacherous attendants.

Doubly pleasing to the mind, therefore, would it be to follow each one of these pedestrians through every stage of his course, whether in the midst of some group of kindred souls, or solitarily walking, until he should reach the distant palace of delights, ia the cerulean region of Manhood, remote from the cold meadows of sensuality. But our purpose will be served if we select a single example from the great field of moral endeavor, and present to the reader a map, as it were, of the ways of life's blessed prime, with an occasional adventurer here and there striving for his reward.

iNNocEKTirs was as amiable a lad as you would ever desire to behold. Kind-hearted and uncommonly agreeable and upright in deportment, he won the esteem of all persons who were so fortunate as to be his companions. Unlike many whom we might name, ho had never discovered a quarrelsome trait or a fretful disposition. Refinement of character was at once perceivable; and, at a remarkably early age, he manifested a desire to see the world, and to study the noble arts and sciences which appertain to its more intellectual and moral departments.

It was a balmy morning in the spring-time. Innocentius was sitting alone in the Bower of Hope, ne was thinking all about the fair realm concerning which he had heard much from the lips of parents and preceptors. He longed to be


himself a traveller, so that be too might behold the inimitable landscapes of mental renown. In a word, he longed to "reach out his hand, and grasp the autumnal fruits of the toils of the mind. With bis thoughts thus exercised, he plucked from a neighboring plant a fragrant blossom; and sweet were the strains which echoed on the air as he rehearsed, in a half-singing, half-reading tone, this little song:

Gladly I would roam

Away, away
From my childhood*! home,

Away, awny
To the fair domain

Intellect hath planted,
For whose wondrous plain

Long my soul hath panted.
Thou hast told me oft

Of the halcyon clime
Where the zrphyr soft

Breathes at evening-time
Gales that gently fan

Virtue's plncid brow,
Where the streamlets ran

Long ago as now!
Wisdom, I would roam

Away, away
From my childhood's home,
Away, away!

Scarce were these words uttered by Innocentios, ere a responsive strain floated from an adjacent arbor of grape vines:

I am Wisdom, gentle youth 1

I have heard thy tender voice;
I have tried thy spirit's truth,

And will make thy soul rejoice.
Genins, thou shalt be his guide,

Whilst thou leadest not astray;
And in thee may he confide,

Through the morning of the day.
Guide him safely through the land

Where enticing spirits dwell,
So that only passions bland

May within his l>osom swell 1

Thereupon Wisdom and Genins, the heavenborn, each extended a hand to our hero, who, casting a "lingering look behind,'' bade adieu to the town of his nativity.

"Thou mayst now depart for the vales,''said Wisdom to Genins; "and thou (addressing Innocentins) wilt be his companion, to enliven the journey by thy pleasant laugh and thy intelligent manner.''

"Ay, assuredly!" replied Genins; "for," he added, "without the children of men, what good would the gold and g^ms that we expect to discover do us, though we heaped up treasure until we were gray?"

"Thanks, my benefactress I" exolaimed the

youth. "Wilt thou also go alongf' he inquired of Wisdom.

"Not now, my child; but I will come to guard thee, whenever thou findest the way dangerous, or thy feet inclined to stray from the true path of life."

Having thus spoken, Wisdom returned to the fulfilment of her accustomed duties among the students of Learning, leaving her favorite to the care of Genius and his airy train. Howbeit, she first commissioned an invisible agent, by name Discretion, to keep an eye of watchfulness constantly directed towards the highway in which Innocentins was to pursue his journey, lest even the clear-sighted Genins might have his eyes become so dazzled by Imagination's effulgence that his services would cease to be of use.

Then the company tripped quickly along over the dewy lawn, frequently pausing to gather blossoms of fragrant clover or a bud from some early wild rose tree. They passed several hours in this manner, but collected nothing of a durable nature—nothing which did not wither almost as soon as it was severed from the parent stem. In fact, any thing that glittered pleased Genins and his sister Fancy, even were the object of admiration of no greater value than a "violet by a mossy stone," bearing upon its fragile form but a single globule of dew or a solitary rain-drop. Sometimes he would leave his charge—his ward—in the pursuit of a gaudy butterfly, childlike as was this famous Genins. But our Innocentins was naturally of a thoughtful turn; therefore he began to ask questions, which were like to these we here introduce:

"Are not the Vales of Knowledge somewhere near f I am hungry; and these flowers are not food. I am thirsty; these dews are not drink.'

"Have patience, child."

"Patience! what has Genins to do with that virtue f" interrogated the youth.

"Be not over-hasty, I should have said," answered Genins.

• Yet I would like to know our whereabouts, if you please, and whither we are tending," resumed Innocentins, in an earnest and inquiring tone.

"I will tell thee," responded Genins. "These bowers at our right hand belong to the regions of Poetry and Song. From the retreats of their deep foliage ever rise notes either of lively or of plaintive melody. Hark! thou mayst hear them if thou wilt pause to listen."

So it was. The very air seemed to be played on by invisible fingers, and the bosom of each



listener heaved involuntarily in unison with the spirit-strains. So enticing to the mind wns the surrounding scenery, and so delightful were the recesses of the arbors, that Innocentius thought it well to yield for once to the solicitations of his companions, who besought him to seek an hour's rest in the place.

Many were the minstrels whose symphonies resounded among the bowers and through the adjoining gardens. But Poeticus Narcissus was the chief of the band. His notes were of a character to cheer and invigorate the spirit in a day of weariness from travel. He was a true child of Nature, and consequently his numbers were pure and holy in their tendency. Poeticus and Innocentius, after an interview, were so well pleased with each other, that they at once commenced a dialogue in their vernacular tongue. The words were these:


Thoa brother of my beating heart,

Whose soul is as my soul,
Thou seekest for life's nobler part.

Id striving for the goal
Of sacred Wisdom's heavenly way,
Which leadeth unto realms of day.


My spirit's chords thy fingers touch,
When thus thou tunest thy voice;

I would that every strain were such,
That bids me to rejoice.

O gentle Mime, be thou my friend,

And to my aid thy hand extend I


So shall it be, and thou mayst tune

My harp to strains oC thine;
With my own thoughts thou mayst commune,

And round thy head entwine
The same fair wreath that graced my brow,
When I was but as thou art now.

Joyous was the heart of Innocentius, when Qeniua again took his hand and bade him follow to ascend the glorious Mountains of Manhood. Before, he had been subject to fits of gloominess and sadness; but now, the "soul of song" had released him from Despondency's thraldom, and Gladness daguerreotyped herself in his beaming countenance.

Hand in hand they left the bowers. But if I should undertake to follow the adventurers through all their course, a volume would be written, when but a brief sketch is intended to be given. The fair rivers of Knowledge were passed, and all the wondrous virtues of their waters tested. Gradually the mountains came closer and closer in view, while at the same time the Hills of Childhood receded and the Vales of

Youth disappeared; and as he advanced, our hero became more and more eager to press on, so that he might seasonably reach the Temple of Fame on Manhood's loftiest height.

Nevertheless, as Innocentius was considerably fond of geological surveys, his eagerness did not in the least degree prevent his pausing to examine the Rocks of Mathematies, although he found some of their varieties of strata exceedingly difficult to analyze, inasmuch a« they proved to be incorrigibly "tough" and "hard" in texture. However, he mastered a sufficiency of problems to satisfy Genius, who was not himself particularly fond of "figures," and cared still less that others should be.

It was a delightful day in midsummer, when Wisdom returned from her mission in the conntry of Youth, to superintend the completion of the young man's education; for she had, in previous times, discovered in Genius a certain want of thoroughness in carrying out his undertakings. True, he had commonly been faithful in his initiations into the fine arts; but Wisdom held that there were other great branches demanding attention—other paths to walk, and other caverns to be explored—than those in which Genius experienced most delight. Although the latter personage included science, as well as art, in his literary category, yet the loftier principles of man's moral nature were too often neglected or overlooked.

But Wisdom sought to impress firmly upon Innocentius his obligations to God, and to point out to him his need of divine knowledge. Her precepts were oftentimes clothed in the language of Holy Writ; and she frequently repeated to her pupil the golden advice of the pious King of Israel to Solomon, his favored son:

"Know thou the God of thy father, and serve him with a perfect heart, and with a willing mind; for the Lord searcheth all hearts, and underetandelh all the imaginations of the thoughts: if thou seek him, he will be found of thee; but if thou forsake him, he will cast thee off for ever."

Wisdom's instruction had a salutary tendency. The Giver of all Good added a blessing, and Innocentius ultimately reached the Palaces of Renown. But he forgot not the days of youthful effort, and did never refuse to send messengers from Learning's retreats, whenever there might be individuals desirous of traversing the paths which he had traversed, from the Hills) Childhood to the Mountains Of Manhood.





Malachi, the last of the ancient sacred prophets, foretold the advent of Jesua Christ, and the coming of his forerunner, John the Baptist, • about four hundred years before those momentous events. A general idea of the state of the Jews, during the interval, from the best historical sources, must be desirable and important to every reader of the Bible: a few brief notices, therefore, of that period will be given in this chapter. Nehemiah was contemporary with Malachi; but how long be lived at Jerusalem after his reformation of the religious and political affairs of the Jews we have no means of precisely ascertaining. After his decease, Judea appears to have been added to the prefecture of Syria, and it remained altogether subject to the Persian governor of that province, under whom the high priest prescribed and enforced such laws of general policy as he might think proper, or the state of things required. Even the high-priest himself, in some instances, was appointed by the Governor.

Alexander the Great, procuring himself to be chosen general of the Grecian forces against the Persians, defeated their army in Cilicia, under Darius their sovereign, B. o. 833. He then subdued all Syria and Phoenicia, and marched into Judea to punish the Jews for supplying his enemies with provisions, while they refused euoh assistance to him. Jaddua, the high-priest, hearing of his approach, called upon the people to unite with him in sacrifices and prayer, that God would avert the threatening calamity. Having humbled themselves before the Lord, it was communicated to Jaddua in a dream that he should go and meet the conqueror, robed in his pontifical habits, and accompanied by all the priests in their sacerdotal garments. Attended by a numerous body of the people dressed in white, they thus marched in solemn procession to an eminence called Sapha, which commanded a view of the temple and of the whole city. The King approached, but was so struck with profound awe at the extraordinary spectacle, that instead of indulging in revenge, he hastened forward and saluted the man of God with religious veneration. All etood amazed at his singular behavior; and Parmenio, a favorite of the King, asked the reason of this act of unexpected homage. To this Alexander is said to have replied,

that the worship was not offered to the priest, but to his God, in grateful acknowledgment for a vision at Dio, in Macedonia, in which this very priest, and in this very habit, appeared to him, promising to give him the empire of Persia.

Having cordially embraced Jaddua, it is said that Alexander entered Jerusalem, and offered up sacrifices in the temple. The high-priest showed him the prophecies of Daniel, which foretold the subversion of the Persian empire by a Grecian king: by reading these, Alexander went against Darius with still greater confidence of success in his expedition; and, at the request of Jaddua, granted the Jews the free exercise of their religion, the observance of their laws, and exemption from the payment of tribute every seventh year, in which the law required that they should neither reap nor sow. Alexander defeated the immense army of Darius, and the predictions of Daniel were accomplished in his overthrow of the Persians.

The conqueror greatly favored the Jewe, and Egypt having submitted to his power, he built Alexandria, and induced multitudes of that people to settle in the new city, granting them equal privileges with the Macedonians. This mighty conqueror died, aged only thirty-two years, B. C. 823; all his family were murdered, and four of his generals divided among themselves the vast dominions of their royal master. Egypt fell to the lot of Ptolemy Lagus, who invaded Judea, and led a hundred thousand of its people captives into his country; but treating them liberally, many were glad to follow their brethren, on account of the miserable condition into which wars had plunged their native land.

In the year B. O. 292, Simon, surnamed the Just, high-priest of the Jews, died. He was a man of singular wisdom and virtue, and the last of the men of the great synagogue, consisting of one hundred and twenty persons, appointed by Ezra for perfecting the restoration of the Jewish Cburcb. Simon the Just, it is considered, mado the last revision of the books of the Old Testament, and completed the sacred canon by adding the books of Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, and Malachi.

The Jews in Egypt forgetting the Hebrew I language, procured the saored books to be translated into Greek for their use, and a copy of them was placed in the royal library of Ptolemy Philadelphus, about the year B. c. 284. This translation of the Scriptures into Greek, which is called the Septuagint, became commonly used in all the churches of the Jews wherever they

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