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44 To JOSEPH STURGE ON THE DEATH OF HIS SISTER.

The honoured and the wise once more

Within his presence came,-
And lingered oft on lovely lips,

His once forbidden name.

There may be glory in the might,

That treadeth nations down,
Wreaths for the crimson conquerer,

Pride for the kingly crown:
But nobler is that triumph hour,

The disenthralled shall find,
When evil passion boweth down,
Unto the Godlike mind!

J. G. W.

Co Joseph Sturge on the death of his ģister.

THINE is a grief, the depth of which, another,

May never know,
Yet o’er the waters, O my stricken brother!

To thee I go.

I lean my heart unto thee-sadly folding

Thy hand in mine,
With even the weakness of my soul upholding

The strength of thine.

I never knew, like thee, the dear departed;

I stood not by
When in calm trust, the pure and tranquil hearted

Lay down to die.

To JOSEPH STURGE ON THE DEATH OF HIS SISTER.

15

And on thy ear my words of weak condoling,

Must vainly fall;
The funeral bell which in thy heart is tolling

Sounds over all !

I will not mock thee with the poor world's coinmon

And heartless phrase, Nor wrong the memory

of a sainted woman With idle praise.

With silence only as their benediction,

God's angels come,
Where in the shadow of a great affliction,

The soul sits dumb!

Yet would I say what thy own heart approveth:

Our Father's will,
Calling to Him, the dear one, whom He loveth,

Is mercy still.

Not
upon
thee or thine the solemn angel

Hath evil wrought,
Her funeral anthem is a glad evangel-

The good die not!

:

God calls our loved ones; but we lose not wholly

What he hath given:
They live on earth, in thought and deed, as truly

As in his Heaven.

And she is with thee. In thy path of trial

She walketh yet:
Still with the baptism of thy self-denial,

Her locks are wet.

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Up, then, my brother! Lo the fields of harvest

Lie white in view !
She lives and loves thee, and the God thou servest,

To both is true.

Thrust in thy sickle! England's toil-worn peasants,

Thy call abide:
And she thou mourn’st, a pure and holy presence,
Shall glean beside!

J. G. W.

True Rest.

SWEET is the pleasure itself cannot spoil.
Is not true leisure one with true toil ?
Thou that would'st taste it, still do thy best,
Abuse it not, waste it not, else 'tis no rest.
Would'st behold beauty, near thee, around ?
Only hath duty such a sight found !
Rest is not quitting the busy career-
Rest is the fitting of self to its sphere.
'Tis the brook's motion, clear, without strife,
Fleeing to ocean, after its life.
Deeper devotion nowhere hath knelt,
Fuller emotion heart never felt,

'Tis loving and serving the highest and best-
'Tis onward-unswerving—and this is True Rest.

CHRISTIAN REGISTER.

Che Bald Eagle.

This distinguished bird, as he is the most beautiful of his tribe, in this part of the world, and the adopted emblem of our country, is entitled to particular notice. He has been long known to naturalists, being common to both continents; and occasionally met with from a very high northern latitude, to the borders of the torrid zone, but chiefly in the vicinity of the sea, and along the shores and cliffs of our lakes and large rivers.

Formed by nature for braying the severest cold; feeding equally on the produce of the sea, and of the land ; possessing powers of flight,-capable of outstripping even the tempests themselves ; unawed by anything but man, and, from the ethereal heights to which he soars, looking abroad at one glance, on an immeasurable expanse of forests, fields, lakes and ocean, deep below him; he appears indifferent to the little localities of change of seasons; as in a few minutes he can pass from summer to winter, from the lower to the higher regions of the atmosphere, the abode of eternal cold, and thence descend at will to the torrid or the arctio regions of the earth. He is therefore found at all seasons in the countries he inhabits; but prefers such places as have been mentioned above, from the great partiality he has for fish.

In procuring these he displays, in a very singular manner, the genius and energy of his character, which is fierce, contemplative, daring, and tyrannical ; attributes not exerted but on particular occasions; but when put forth, overpowering all opposition. Elevated on a high dead limb of some gigantic tree, that commands a wide view of the neighbouring shore and ocean, he seems calmly to contemplate the motions of the various feathered tribes that pursue their busy avocations below; the snow white gulls slowly winnowing the air; the busy

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Yungæ, coursing along the sands; trains of Ducks, streaming over the surface; silent and watchful Cranes, intent and wading; clamourous Crows, and all the winged multitudes that subsist by the bounty of this vast liquid magazine of nature. High over all these hovers one, whose action instantly arrests all his attention. By his wide curvature of wing, and sudden suspension in air, he knows him to be the Fish-Hawk, settling over some devoted victim of the deep.

His eye kindles at the sight, and balancing himself, with half opened wings, on the branch, he watches the result. Down, rapid as an arrow from heaven, descends the distant object of his attention, the roar of its wings reaching the ear as it disappears in the deep, making the surges foam around. At this moment the eager looks of the Eagle are all ardour; and levelling his neck for flight, he sees the Fish-Hawk once more emerge struggling with his prey, and mounting in the air with screams of exultation.

These are the signal for our hero, who, launching into the air, instantly gives chase, soon gains on the Fish-Hawk, each exerts his utmost to mount above the other, displaying in these rencounters the most elegant and sublime aerial evolutions. The unincumbered Eagle rapidly advances, and is just on the point of reaching his opponent, when with a sudden seream, probably of despair and honest execration, the latter drops his fish; the Eagle poising himself for a moment, as if to take a more certain aim, descend's like a whirlwind, snatches it in his grasp ere he reaches the water, and bears his ill-gotten booty silently away to the woods.

WILSON'S AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY.

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ONE is much less sensible to cold on a bright day than on a cloudy one : thus the sunshine of cheerfulness and hope will lighten every trouble.

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