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dropped in about this 'We may wait a few

'I should not wonder if he time,' replied her new friend. minutes. Meanwhile I'll tell you something of the work.' He did so; and a very favourable account it was, particularly the circumstance of a new provision that the children should attend school daily during the week. To all her purposed stipulations he returned so ready and smiling an assent, with regard to the freedom and comfort of her children, that in a mind less willing to judge of others by its own artless honesty some suspicion would have been suggested. The good widow, however, attributed it all to the kind word of Mr. Stratton, considering his letter a sufficient ground for the unusual attention paid to her wishes.

And so it was: for Mr. Stratton had made over this helpless but active and industrious family to those who were, in return, so effectually to lime them, as to preclude the possibility of their becoming burdens on the parish of L., and had, at the same time, instructed his friends by a few pithy hints how to bait the trap that was to enclose the victims within its iron fence.

C. E.

A STRANGE OMISSION.

IN all our compilations of hymns adapted for public or social worship, numerous and various as they are, we meet with selections from that eminent devotional poet, Dr. Watts; who, taken altogether, must be admitted to stand foremost on our list of national Psalmodists. How familiar to the ear, how accordant with the secret breathings of every Christian's spirit, is his beautiful version of the millennial psalm.

'Jesus shall reign where'er the sun
Does his successive journies run.'

What bosom has not throbbed in unison with the pealing notes that waft abroad Watts' sublime wording of the universal hymn of praise—

'Before Jehovah's awful throne

Ye nations bow with sacred joy.'

Or who, in the hour of affliction, when sorrowing, not indeed as others who have no hope, yet deeply sorrowing still over the endeared memory of some beloved one who sleeps in Jesus, has not acknowledged the soothing power of that lovely strain,

'There is a land of pure delight,

Where saints immortal reign.'

Critics and poetasters may say what they will, the church gives practical evidence that Watts was a Christian melodist for all seasons.

Now, how comes it to pass that nearly all our compilers have overlooked or rejected one of the noblest and truest of this great master's harmonious paraphrases of scripture, and one so peculiarly, so pointedly given by our comforting Lord to his protesting church, when entering the precincts of a furnace that has never ceased to burn for her, although for a little space she has been withdrawn from its immediate operation? Let the walls of our temples, and of our dwellings, once more take up the too long forgotten strain; for surely the hour approaches when we shall need it to support us under the passing, and happily the closing tribulation.

The two first stanzas are by Dr. Watts; the third is added by another person:

REV. XVIII. 21.

(TUNE-Martin Luther's Old Hundredth.')

'In Gabriel's hand a mighty stone
Lies, a fair type of Babylon.

"Prophets rejoice, and all ye saints,

God shall avenge your long complaints."

He said, and dreadful as he stood
He sank the mill-stone in the flood.

"Thus terribly shall Babel fall,
Thus-and no more be found at all."'

"The coming hour we long to see
When Rome's poor captives shall go free,
And shouting throngs aloud proclaim
The glories of the Saviour's name.'

TO MY DOG.

(Occasioned by a paper in the last number of the Christian Lady's Magazine.)

My faithful dog! come let me see
One face, not turned away from me;
Thy constant love will not forsake
The friend to all thy wants awake;
Nor thy kind nature strike the blow,
And "mock the tear it forced to flow."

No-for thou meekly wilt sustain,
Unmerited, unlooked-for pain,
Cold scorn and contumely in course
Endure from man's tyrannic force,
Yet seek not to avenge the ill,
But love and serve thy master still.

O bright example, teach me how
To God's decrees my will to bow:
Teach me, oppressed, like thee to bear,
Not transient hurt, but craz'd despair:
Teach me like thee to kiss the stroke
By which my o'erburdened heart is broke!

S.

A CHAPTER FROM THE LIFE OF A YOUNG CLERGYMAN.

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"ONE fact,' saith the proverb, is worth a hundred arguments:' and inasmuch as we are all more or less creatures of imitation, an example held up to our eyes has often more effect in attracting our notice and influencing our conduct, than the most elaborate essay or dry dissertation on the same subject.

Now I have no taste for composing elaborate essays or dry dissertations, and therefore must have recourse to the simple narration of an occurrence, which may perhaps accomplish my object. It may shew the expediency and possibility of so improving natural talents and rectifying natural defects, as to increase to their utmost usefulness the gifts which God has given us to glorify him.

Horace Fleetmore was one of those whom it pleased the Almighty Disposer of events to call at an early age into his service. He was introduced into Christ's flock by that which has heralded the adoption of many a believer-the baptism of bitter tears; those waters of the heart,' that soften, when blessed, the stony soil, and prepare it for the sanctifying dews of the Spirit, and the springing up of the good seed.

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