cence. a stranger to care and sorrow, and passed his days in innoOften does the fond idea recur; often the pleasant period return. It will add much, my young friend, it will add much to the pleasures of reflection, if you have it in your power to recall to mind, that your early days were not only innocent, but useful, and devoted to the service of your Creator. To look back on a life, no season of which was spent in vain; to number up the days, the months, and the years, spent in the service of God, will be inward rapture, only to be felt. This will cause the evening of life to smile, and make your departure like a setting sun. I shall conclude with one consideration, which I hope will have weight; and that is, if you seek God now in the days of youth, you are certain of success. Go out in the morning of youth, and you are sure to gather the manna of everlasting life. God himself will bend from his throne, and teach your spirits to approach unto him. They who seek him early shall find him, and shall be guarded from evil on his holy mountain. VERSE, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying, When I was young! When I was young! ah, woful when! That fear no spite of wind or tide! Nought cared this body for wind and weather, When YOUTH and I lived in 't together! Flowers are lovely, Love is flower-like, O the joys, that came down shower-like, Ere I was old? ah, mournful ere, Which tells me, Youth 's no longer here' To make believe that thou art gone! INFANTINE INQUIRIES. 'TELL me, O mother! when I grow old, Will my hair, which my sisters say is like gold, As he when he told us his tale of wo? Will my 'He said-but I knew not what he meant- And my sisters wept as they heard his tale! 'He spoke of a home, where in childhood's glee He chased from the wild flowers the singing bee, As its sparkling wings, the butterfly's flight; And pulled young flowers, where they grew 'neath the beams Yet he left all these, through the earth to roam! 'Calm thy young thoughts, my own fair child! Though pale grow thy cheeks, and thy hair turn gray, There's a land of which thou hast heard me speak, It was there the old man longed to be! 'For he knew that those with whom he had played, · Though ours be a pillared and lofty home, Oh! scorn not the poor with the scorner's jest, And leave us with wo, in the world's bleak wild! THE Kirk of Auchindown in Scotland stands, with its burial-ground, on a little green hill, surrounded by an irregular and straggling village, or rather about an hundred hamlets clustering round it, with their fields and gardens. A few of these gardens come close up to the church-yard wall, and in Spring-time, many of the fruit-trees hang rich and beautiful over the adjacent graves. The voices and the laughter of the children at play on the green before the parish-school, or their composed murmur when at their various lessons together in the room, may be distinctly heard all over the burial-ground, - —so may the song of the maidens going to the well; — while all around, the singing of birds is thick and hurried; and a small rivulet, as if brought there to be an emblem of passing time, glides away beneath the mossy wall, murmuring continually a dream-like tune around the dwellings of the dead. In the quiet of the evening, after the Elder's funeral, my B |