Who is not acquainted with the two plaster-of-Paris images, borne about and sold by Italians, called the Twin-Fishers? What lovely symbols of innocent childhood. In their aprons they essay to carry their fishes, but the smooth-sided creatures of the stream are ever gliding out at the sides, and the innocent children elevate one side of the apron only to let them slide out the more surely on the other; and with what earnestness of lookhalf perplexity, because they are dropping out, and half-admiration of the beautiful captives themselves-do they gaze at them jumping at their feet while others still are falling from the carelessly held apron. Many thoughts come up in our mind while beholding these lovely Twin-Fishers. Though they are not of marble, and would perhaps never be thought of in connection with exhibitions of statuary as "things of art," yet sure we are that there are many who feel the beauty of these images, where affectation of higher pretensions to taste would disown seeing it. No wonder then that these innocent little creatures are. so popular as mantle and hearth ornaments. Thus, then, it came to pass, that a pair of the Fishers had long graced the mantle of a parlor where we had enjoyed many a social hour. It came to pass also in the process of time, that on a sad and stormy day the veering wind sent a sudden blast down the chimney, the fireboard fell and the little Fishers lay in wreck and ruin over the floor! Then it was that it fell to the Poet to allay the common grief, by the song of the Twin-Fishers. And inasmuch as sorrow is lightened by being distributed, we invite our friends of the Guardian to join us in these measures of sorrow.

I.

How oft have ye cheered me, ye sweet, tuneful Nine,
When dark, heavy sorrow has darkened my soul;

Come now with a song to this sad heart of mine,

And calm the rough billows that bigh o'er me roll.

O soothing consolers, ye only have skill,

To ease my heart's tremor, and bid it be still.

II.

Not selfishly sad do I call for your aid;

Not mine was the first bitter draught of this wo;

On friends of my heart the bereavement is laid,

And theirs are the tears with which mine own now flow.
Give me words that upon their stormed spirits shall fall
Like the music of David on the sad heart of Saul.

III.

To teach, O ye Muses, your tenderest vein,

And call forth your sympathy freely and true,
O lend me your numbers, and teach me the strain,
And I'll sing all the sorrowful story to you-
A story beginning all cheerful as light,
But ending as sad and as fearful as night!

IV.

O joy on the day when from Italy's fair strand-
Yes, Italy, land of soft airs and bright skies—
Came the skill of the head and the skill of the hand,
That for pleasure of others so successfully plies-
From flour of plaster the image to mould,

To nature so true with its graces untold.

V.

O joy above all on that happiest hour,

When with high inspiration. the artist conceived That finest, most graceful display of his power,

Which praise above all, and from all, has received. When the little Twin Fishers stood graceful to view, Joy shone in his eyes like the sunlight in dew.

VI.

The Brother as mild as a morning in May,

The Sister as meek as a cherub-they stand;

And bearing the little pet fishes away,

They glide through the apron and slip through the hand. Such innocent looks of contentment and love

We are wont to transfer to the cherubs above.

VII.

Sweet picture of childhood-O holiest time!

No shadow of sorrow has darkened their brows; With hearts that hear music from Heaven's pure clime, With love never checked by perfidious vows.

Oh beautiful Fishers, so mild and so sweet,

With the pets in their aprons, the pets at their feet.

VIII.

When Hennie and Annie had purchased the pair,

And bore them with fondness away in their arms;

The act, to the thoughtful, was evidence rare

That their hearts were well used to the purest of charms. And there, 'neath the mantle the Twin Fishers stood,

The joy of the pure, and the praise of the good.

IX.

But O that misfortune should sadden my song!

And shadows should darken the joys that I sing!

But earth never leaves us the beautiful long,

And sweetest of flowers first attract the keen sting!

'Tis sad-yet 'tis well-for if this were not so,

We might sell our bright Heaven for the bright things below.

X.

Sad day when the storm, roaring fierce round the roof,
Sent a blast down the chimney so sudden and strong
That the fire-board yielded-the nails were not proof,

For the strength of the wind that bore down on it long.

The dear little Fisher so lovely before,

A wreck and a ruin were found on the floor!

1858.]

The Memory of the Dead.-Kind Words.

95

XI.

How changed is the place! though new taste and new care
Have been busy around where the ruin was wrought,
In vain would the fresh painted fire-board there

Beguile the sad eye-it is nought! it is nought!
No! gone and for aye, is the cnarm and the pride,
The mantle is lone with no pets at its side!

THE MEMORY OF THE DEAD.

WE cannot but feel that it is wrong that the dead should "forgotten be," and their narrow house "alike unknowing and unknown;" for, if "the living know that they must die," why should they not be told of those who having already passed the iron gates have set them a safe example how to follow. This is but one reason, and that among the less important. The church needs the memory of her departed ones as well, perhaps as much, as the presence of her living members. For she is militant, and she is triumphant; her communion is with "those to glory gone," as well as with "the saints terrestrial."

"Though now divided by the stream

The narrow stream of death:

Part of the host have crossed the flood,
And part are crossing now."

The Church needs more especially the memory of those who, having led her to the margin of the flood, have themselves passed over, and now by their faith, and their patience, beckon her to follow. She needs the memory of her faithful pastors, still even now, that they are dead; for, while living, they were leaders of her hosts, and it is fitting that her members should hold in grateful remembrance those who labored among them and over them in the Lord.

KIND WORDS.

And we have never

KIND words never blister the tongue or lips. heard of any mental trouble arising from this quarter. Though they do not cost much, yet they accomplish much. They help one's own good nature and good will. Soft words soften our own soul. Angry words are fuel to the flame of wrath, and make it burn more fiercely. Kind words make other people good natured. Cold words freeze people, and hot words scorch them, and bitter words make them bitter, and wrathful words make them wrathful. There is such a rush of all other kind of words in our day, that it seems desirable to give kind words a chance among them. There are vain words, and hasty words, and spiteful words, and silly words, and empty words, and profane words, and boisterous words, and warlike words. Kind words also produce their own image on men's souls. And a beautiful image it is. They soothe and quiet, and comfort the hearer. They shame him out of his sour, morose, unkind feelings. We have not yet begun to use kinds words in such abundance as they ought to be used.

DEDICATION OF AN ALBUM.

To afford me true delight,
On these pages pure and white,
Friend, I pray thee, only write
What is good and what is true,
Joy to me and praise to you.
Have you thoughts, oh write them not,
Which when dying you would blot.

Write me thoughts that shall be dear
In some lonely after year,

Whether read through smile or tear.
In the hour which memory roves
Over past and perished loves,

Only holy thoughts can shed
Light were hope and joy are fled
With the absent and the dead!

BOOK NOTICES.

THE PROTESTANT THEOLOGICAL ECCLESIASTICAL ENCYCLOPEDIA: Being a Condensed Translation of Herzog's Real Encyclopedia. With additions from other sources. By Rev. J. H. A. Bomberger, D.D. Assisted by distinguished Theologians of various denominations. Part VI. Philadelphia Lindsay & Blakiston. 1858.

The sixth part of this excellent work has appeared. It carries the work from the article Charles V. to the word Confession. We have noticed each previous Part favorably, and can only repeat our conviction that this is decidedly the most important work for ministers and private christians who take an interest in higher theological inquiry, that has yet appeared in this country. Here is a perfect library of divine wisdom in a comparatively small compass, enabling the reader to see at least the outlines of almost any point of inquiry in religion to which his attention may be called. Most of ministers know the value of this work; but we would recommend it to all laymen. It is only 50 cents per Part, and in no way that we know of could the same money be better invested. The Editor and his assistants do their work with care and ability; the publishers, Lindsay & Blakiston, deserve the thanks of the whole church for so well getting up so good a work.

THE PRINCIPLE OF VIRTUE, AND VIRTUE OF PRINCIPLE. By Rev. George B. Russell, A. M., Chambersburg, Pa: Moses Kieffer & Co., 1857. pp. 32. This is an address delivered at the dedication of the new Hall of the Diagnothian society of Franklin & Marshall College, Lancaster, Pa., July 29th, 1857. The theme of the discourse is ingeniously and beautifully drawn from the society's motto:

Στεφει τιμωντας αυτην αρετη.

"Virtue crowns her followers." The discussion is deep, clear and powerful; and gives fine evidence of Mr. Russell's well-known ability as a vigorous and original thinker. The address is not only valuable as showing the necessary oneness of Religion and morality, but affords many deeply practical hints. Young men, and old ones too, ought to read it-not only read but study it not only study but lay it to heart-not only lay it to heart, but practice its wholesome teaching in their lives.

How strange is this! We take a real delight in these lessons and pictures. When a child we felt almost ashamed "to be in the Spelling Book;" for the little urchins who sat dangling their legs from the benches around the stove-which were higher than need be; that is, the benches were regarded by "the larger boys" as a decidedly inferior class of beings. Then in the plays at noon, it was seldom that any of "the spellers" attained to any prominent position. It was a bad lesson on republican equality which "the boys" thus taught their aspiring school fellows. It was this, no doubt, which begat in us the feeling, that should we grow to be a man we would wish to know nothing more of the spelling book-that we should hate its very form, lessous and pictures! But we have not found it so.

The misery was so we now believe-that we did not then properly understand and lay to heart its lessons. Still we find, on looking back over our life, that some of the principles and morals of these lessons have really been with us, and that we have often acted upon them to our benefit. Perhaps they lay latent in our moral nature deeper than in our memory, and though we did not refer them to the spelling book as their legitimate source, yet no less thence were they derived. We felt the heat, though we did not see the light.

It may be so with many things which we learn in our childhood. The forms pass away, but the power remains with us, not so much a part of our knowledge as of our consciousness. Thus we are not to consider that what we have forgotten, has not benefited us. We have eaten many

a piece of bread of which we have now no recollection, yet that life which was nourished by such eating is with us to this present. So in our simplicity do we illustrate this thing to our mind; and if this be a correct view of the matter it is something for parents and teachers to think of, and to be encouraged by.

But we are growing philosophical; and so we break off this thread, and return to the spelling book.