POETRY.

To warn the reaper of the rosy lust;
All now was sunless, empty and forlorn.

Alone, from out the stubble, piped the quail;
And croaked the crow through all the dreary gloom;
Alone, the pheasant, drumming in the vale,

Made echo in the distant cottage loom.

There was no bud, no bloom upon the bowers;

The spiders moved their thin shrouds night by night, The thistle down, the only ghost of flowers,

Sailed slowly by-passed noiseless out of sight.

Amid all this-in this most dreary air,

And where the woodbine shed upon the porch Its crimson leaves, as if the year stood there, Firing the blood with its inverted torch;

Amid all this-the centre of the scene,

The white-haired matron, with monotonous tread,
Plied the swift wheel, and with her joyous mien
Sat, like a fate, and watched the flying thread.

She had known sorrow. He had walked with her,
Oft supped, and broke with her the ashen crust,
And in the dead leaves still she heard the stir

Of his thick mantle trailing in the dust.

While yet her cheek was bright with summer bloom,
Her country summoned, and she gave her all;
And twice war bowed to her his sable plume-
Re-gave the sword to rust upon the wall.

Re-gave the sword, but not the hand that drew,
And struck for liberty the dying blow;

Nor him who, to his sire and country true,
Fell 'mid the ranks of the invading foe.

Long, but not loud, the drooping wheel went on,
Like the low murmur of a hive at noon;
Long, but not loud, the memory of the gone

Breathed through her lips a sad and tremulous tone. At last the thread was snapped, her head was bowed; Life dropped the distaff through her hands serene, And loving neighbours smoothed her careful shroud; While death and winter closed the autumn scene.

ANECDOTES AND SELECTIONS.

Anecdotes and Selections.

WHAT BRITAIN OWES TO THE SQUIRRELS.-It is a curious circumstance, and not generally known, that most of the oaks which are called spontaneous are planted by the squirrels. The little animal has performed the most essential service to the British navy. A gentle man walking one day in a wood, belonging to the Duke of Beaufort, near Trevhouse, in the county of Monmouth, had his attention diverted by a squirrel, which sat very composedly on the ground. He stopped to observe his motions; in a few moments the squirrel darted like lightning to the top of the tree beneath which he had been sitting. In an instant he was down with an acorn in his mouth, and began to burrow in the earth with his paws. After digging a small hole, he stooped down and deposited the acorn, then covering it, he darted up the tree again. In a moment he was down with another, which he buried in the same manner. This he continued to do as long as he thought proper to watch him. The industry of this little animal is directed to the purpose of securing himself against want in the winter, and as it is probable that his memory is not sufficiently retentive to enable him to remember the spots in which he deposited every acorn, the industrious little fellow, no doubt, loses a few every year. The few spring up, and are destined to supply the place of the parent tree. Thus is Britain, in some measure, indebted for her mercantile greatness to the industry and bad memory of the squirrel.

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JOHN QUINCY ADAMS' MOTHER." Twelve or fifteen years ago," says Ex-Governor Briggs, "I left Washington three or four weeks in the spring. While at home, I possessed myself of the letters of Mr. Adams' mother, and read them with exceeding interest. I remember an expression in one of the letters addressed to her son, while yet a boy twelve years of age in Europe. Says she: 'I would rather see you laid in your grave than you should grow up a profane and graceless boy.' After returning to Washington, I went over and said to Mr. Adams, 'I have found out who made you l' 'What do you mean said he. I replied, 'I have been reading the letters of your mother.' If I had spoken that dear name to some little boy who had been for weeks away from his dear mother, his eye could not have flashed more brightly, or his face glowed more quickly than did the eye and face of that venerable old man when I pronounced the name of his mother. He stood up in his peculiar manner, and emphatically said, 'Yes, Mr. Briggs, all that is good in me I owe to my mother.' O, what a testimony was that from this venerable man to his mother, who had in his remembrance all the stages of his manhood! All that is good in me I owe to my mother!' Mothers, think of this when your bright-eyed little boy is about. Mothers make the first impressions upon their children, and these are last to be effaced."

ANECDOTES AND SELECTIONS.

A HUSBAND THE BOND OF THE HOUSE.-The English term "husband" is derived from the Anglo-Saxon words hus and band, which signify "the bond of the house," and it was anciently spelled house bond, and continued to be so spelled in some editions of the Bible after the introduction of the art of printing. A husband, then, is a housebond-the bond of a house-that which engirdles a family into the union of strength and the oneness of love. Wife and children, "strangers within the gates," and all their interests and all their happiness are encircled in the house-bond's embrace, the objects of his protection and of his special care. What a fine picture is this of a husband's duty and a family's privilege! And what a beautiful emblem is this of the guardianship and love, and uniting kindness exercised toward believing souls, and inquiring sinners, and "the whole family in heaven and in earth," by Him who says, "it shall be at that day that thou shalt call me Isha (that is, my husband), for I will betroth thee unto me forever; yea, I will betroth thee unto me in righteousness, and in judgment, and in loving-kindness, and in mercies; I will even betroth thee unto me in faithfulness.

"THE TOWER OF REPENTANCE."-Sir Richard Steele, in one of his journeys to Scotland, soon after he had crossed the border near Annan, observed a shepherd on a hillside reading a book. He and his companions rode up, and one of them asked the man what he was reading. It proved to be the Bible. "And what do you learn from this book ?" asked Sir Richard. "I learn from it the way to heaven." Very well," replied the knight, "we are desirous of going to the same place, and wish you would show us the way." Then the shepherd, turning about, pointed to a tall and conspicuous object on an eminence at some miles distance, and said: "Weel, gentlemen, ye maun just gang by that tower." The party, surprised and amused, demanded to know how the tower was called. The shepherd answered, "It is the Tower of Repentance." It was so in verity. Some centuries ago, a border cavalier, in a fit of remorse, had built a tower, to which he gave the name of Repentance. It lies near Hoddam House, in the parish of Cummertrees, rendered, by its eminent situation, a conspicuous object to all the country round.

SNARLING.-The way not to be healthy or happy is to keep up an incessant snarling. If you want to grow lean, cadaverous, and unlovely, excite yourself continually about matters you know nothing about. Accuse other people of wrong-doing incessantly, and you will find but little time to see any wrong in yourself. We wish here and now to inform all men of irritable dispositions that they will live longer if they only keep cool. If such men want to die, we have nothing to say; snarling will kill about as quick as anything we know. We have had good health for the whole period of manhood, and attribute the most of it to the way we take things.

THE FIRESIDE.

The Fireside.

BE A GOOD NEIGHBOUR.

AMONG the pleasant things which are enjoyed here on earth, one of the most desirable is to have good neighbours. And there are but few annoyances more vexatious than those caused by neighbours who are fault-finding, censorious, and disobliging. It is in vain for any man to pretend that he is governed by the principles of the gospel if he does not exhibit in his character the feelings inculcated in the precept, "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." This should teach us to do everything in our power to avoid exposing a neighbour to trouble or expense, while it should be our great pleasure to confer favours. If your neighbour does anything that is trespassing upon your rights, quietly submit to it, unless it be of such a nature that you feel in duty bound to remonstrate. But be very careful never to be guilty of a similar wrong yourself.

A man wished to drain a marshy pool in his garden, and very impudently turned the water in under the fence of his neighbour's garden. The neighbour whose rights were thus invaded was a Christian. He said nothing, but immediately employed a man to dig a trench and provide for the removal of the water. He greeted his neighbour, as he daily met him, with his accustomed cordiality, and was more careful than ever to set him the example of integrity and high-minded generosity. Whether the man who was guilty of this meanness ever felt ashamed of his conduct we cannot tell, but this we know, that the harmony which had existed between the two families was uninterrupted, and they lived side by side, year after year, in perfect peace.

Said another one, who lived near by and witnessed this transaction, "It is an outrage that I would not tolerate. I would build a strong dam by the side of my fence and drive the water back again upon him." This is the spirit of the world. Let us see how this plan would have worked. In the first place, it would have enraged the individual thus frustrated in his sordid undertaking. And the more fully conscious he was that he was in the wrong, the more would his malignity have been excited. We can better bear the injuries which others inflict upon us than the consciousness that it is our own dishonourable conduct which has involved us in difficulties. He immediately would have adopted retaliatory measures, and either have thrust his bar through the opposing wall, or have contrived some other scheme by which he might annoy his adversary. Provocations and retaliations would have ensued in rapid succession. A family feud would at once have been kindled, extending to the children as well as the parents, which probably would never have been extinguished.

THE PENNY POST BOX.

As it was, the Christian neighbour governed his conduct by the principles of the gospel. He submitted to the wrong; and probably, by submitting to it in the spirit which Christianity enjoins, converted the event into a blessing to himself, his family, and his neighbour. He let alone strife before it was meddled with. The harmony of the families was not disturbed. The occurrence was forgiven, and in a few days forgotten, and they lived years side by side in friendship, and prosperity, and perfect peace. Is it not better to follow the advice God gives than to surrender ourselves to the dominion of our passions? The man who adopts for his motto, "I will not be imposed upon," who resolves to contend against any and every infringement of his rights, at all hazards, pays dearly for his inflexibility. He thinks he knows what course his best for his interests better than God, and acting accordingly, he must endure the consequences. He must live upon the boisterous ocean of contention, and his heart must be like the troubled sea, that casts up mire and dirt.

The Bible inculcates upon us the great truth, that we are all members of one common family, having one common father, and we should regard every member of the human family as a brother and a friend. Let this principle get full possession of the heart, and we shall be continually casting oil upon the troubled waters of life. Neighbours will reciprocate kindness like affectionate brothers. They will overlook those infirmities to which we are all liable, and seek to promote another's welfare as well as their own.

The Penny Post Box.

FAMINE IN INDIA.

I WANT to say a few words about the recent famine in Orissa, India. Some of my readers may have heard of it, and some may have seen something about it in the newspapers. But you may not have heard what I want to say.

The cause of the famine is this. The people live chiefly on rice, which they dish up in various ways. Now, for two seasons, the ricecrop, in the part of India which has suffered from the famine, has entirely failed. This has made rice very dear there, and all the dearer, because there are no means of sending rice at once into the faminestricken districts. The roads are bad. There are no canals, and, in this part, no railways. What rice has been sent has gone on little carts, no bigger than our hand-trucks, or by ships.

The effects of the famine have been very sad. Men and women have been eating mere garbage-the sweepings of shops, where the floors are the bare earth, moss, duck-weed, grubs, snails, leaves, the pounded