Eve, Cain and Abel, the Flood, Pharoah in the Red Sea, David and Goliath, &c.! This last was my favourite. I once read the whole narrative through without making a blunder, though only just breeched. Well do I remember it. For when I had done, my Grandmother patted me on the head, said I should be a parson, and gave me a silver sixpence. I never was so rich in my life! I hardly knew how much I was worth; but my Father gave me twelve half-pennies for my bit of silver, and then I comprehended the full value of my prize. But how few of those happy days came, and how soon they passed away! Grandfather and Grandmother soon died,-nearly together. A kind Uncle, their eldest son, occupied the farm, and always made us welcome; but there was no Grandmother in the corner, and the house did not look right without her. I remember going to the funeral; but ah! the selfishness there is in the heart of a child-I thought more that day of my new suit of black clothes, than of poor Grandfather or Grandmother. Well they are gone; and so is my Father, and that Uncle too. His son, my cousin, now stands in the place of his father. But what is our life! A vapour that appeareth for a little time and then passeth away? "Our fathers, where are they, Their joys and griefs, and hopes and cares, MY MOTHER'S HAND. "When I was a little child, (said a good old man,) my mother used to bid me kneel down beside her, and place her hand upon my head, while she prayed. Ere I was old enough to know her worth, she died, and I was left too much to my own guidance. Like others, I was inclined to evil. passions, but often felt myself checked, and, as it were, drawn back by a soft hand upon my head. When a young man, I travelled in foreign lands, and was exposed to many temptations: but when I would have yielded, the same hand was upon my head, and I was saved. I seemed to feel its pressure, as in the days of my happy infancy, and sometimes there came with it a voice to my heart, a voice that must be obeyed,- O, do not this wickedness, my son, nor sin against thy God.' WHY gaze ye on my hoary hairs, I had a Mother once, like you, Who o'er my pillow hung, Kissed from my cheek the briny dew, She, when the nightly couch was spread, But, then, there came a fearful day, Till harsh hands tore me thence away, I plucked a fair white rose, and stole And thought strange sleep enchained her soul, That eve I knelt me down in woe Yet still my temples seemed to glow, Years fled, and left me childhood's joy I rose a wild and wayward boy, Fierce passions shook me like a reed! That soft hand made my bosom bleed, Youth came-the props of virtue reeled; A marble touch my brow congealed- In foreign lands I travelled wide, Yet still that hand, so soft and cold, As when, amid my curls of gold, And with it breathed a voice of care, Ye think, perchance, that age hath stole And dimmed the tablet of the soul;~ That hallowed touch was ne'er forgot!- These temples feel it yet. And if I e'er in heaven appear, MY BROTHER'S BIRTHDAY. ON thy little grave, my brother, I look toward the sunny heavens, With angel's wings, and white raiment, Oh! then I think of death's dark gates God grant we meet beyond them- There's many a scowling cloud, brother, The midnight frost oft chills the flower Then, if it bloom in fairer climes, No gathering tempest near, Should we wish we had it here to pine My own lost brother dear? No! wherefore should we mourn for thee, Thou art not lost for aye Though thy mother for her own dear boy Hath wept for many a day; For, if these bodies sleep in Him, Our spirits shall appear Once more in holy fellowship With thine-my brother dear. When the dark billows bear us, brother, Beyond the gloomy strand, Mayst thou be there to welcome us To the long-promised land! May we, a happy family, Then fill'd with heavenly cheer, Dwell there in love, to part no more From thee-my brother dear. |