BEAUTIFUL EXTRACT.

O, IF there is one law above the rest
Written in wisdom-if there is a word
That I would trace as with a pen of fire
Upon the unsullied temper of a child—
If there is any thing that keeps the mind
Open to angel visits, and repels

The ministry of ill-'TIS LOVE!

God has made nothing worthy of contempt.
The smallest pebble in the well of truth
Has its peculiar meanings, and will stand
When man's best monuments wear fast away.
The law of Heaven is LOVE, and though its name
Has been usurped by passion, and profaned
To its unholy uses through all time,
Still the eternal principle is pure;
And in these deep affections that we feel
Omnipotent within us, we but see

The lavish measures in which love is given.
And in the yearning tenderness of a child

For every bird that sings above its head,
And every creature feeding on the hills,
And every tree, and flower, and running brook,
We see how every thing was MADE TO LOVE;
And how they err, who, in a world like this,
Find any thing to hate but human pride.

N. P. WILLIS.

TO THE DEITY.

THE prayers I make will then be sweet indeed,
If Thou the spirit give by which I pray;
My unassisted heart is barren clay,
That of its native self can nothing feed:
Of good and pious works Thou art the seed,
That quickens only where thou say'st
may;
Unless thou show to us thine own true way,

No man can find it; Father! Thou must lead.

Do Thou then breathe those thoughts into my mind

By which such virtue may in me be bred,

That in Thy holy footsteps I may tread;
The fetters of my tongue do Thou unbind,
That I may have the power to sing of Thee,
And sound Thy praises everlastingly.

MICHAEL ANGELO.

A HYMN.

WRITTEN ON THE OCCASION OF THE EMANCIPATION OF THE

SLAVES IN THE BRITISH WEST INDIES.

OH, Holy Father! just and true

Are all thy works, and words, and ways,
And unto Thee alone are due

Thanksgiving and eternal praise!

As children of thy gracious care,

We veil the eye-we bend the knee,
With broken words of praise and prayer,
Father and God-we come to Thee!

For Thou hast heard, O God of Right,
The sighing of the Island slave;
And stretched for him the arm of might,
Nor shortened that it could not save.
The labourer sits beneath the vine-

The shackled soul and hand are free-
Thanksgiving!-for the work is thine!-
Praise for the blessing is of Thee!

And O, we feel Thy presence here

Thy awful arm in judgment bare!
Thine eye hath seen the bondman's tear—

Thine ear hath heard the bondman's prayer! Praise for the pride of man is low

The counsels of the wise are naught; The fountains of repentance flowWhat hath our GOD in mercy wrought? J. G. WHITTIER.

EXTRACT.

YOUNG girls, who have more vivacity than understanding, will often make a sprightly figure in conversation. But this agreeable talent for entertaining others is frequently dangerous to themselves; nor is it by any means to be desired or encouraged very early in life. This immaturity of wit is helped on by frivolous reading, which will produce its effect in much less time than books of solid instruction; for the imagination is touched sooner than the understanding; and effects are more rapid as they are more pernicious. Conversation should be the result of education, not the precursor of it. It is a golden fruit, when suffered to grow gradually on the tree of knowledge; but, if precipitated by forced and unnatural means, it will in the end, become vapid, in proportion as it is artificial.

HANNAH MORE.