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when they called to mind how she had looked, and spoken, and her early death, some thought it might be so, indeed. Thus, coming to the grave in little knots, and glancing down, and giving place to others, and falling off in whispering groups of three or four, the church was cleared, in time, of all but the sexton and the mourning friends.

They saw the vault covered, and the stone fixed down. Then, when the dusk of evening had come on, and not a sound disturbed the sacred stillness of the place when the bright moon poured in her light on tomb and monument, on pillar, wall and arch, and most of all, it seemed to them, upon her quiet grave in that calm time, when all outward things and inward thoughts teem with assurances of immortality, and worldly hopes and fears are humbled in the dust before them - then, with tranquil and submissive hearts, they turned away, and left the child with God.

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Nicoll was a Scottish poet, of high promise and amiable character. His exertions as editor of the Leeds Times were too severe for his weak constitution, and he sunk under consumption, at an early age, much regretted by those who knew him. His poems consist of short occasional pieces and songs.


HIGH thoughts!

They come and go,

Like the soft breathings of a listening maiden,

While round me flow

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The winds, from woods and fields, with gladness laden;
When the corn's rustle on the ear doth come
When the eve's beetle sounds its drowsy hum-
When the stars, dew-drops of the summer sky,
Watch over all, with soft and loving eye —

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When, deep within the bosom of the forest,
Thy morning melody,

Abroad into the sky, thou, throstle, pourest.
When the young sunbeams glance among the trees
When on the ear comes the soft song of bees
When every branch has its own favorite bird,
And songs of summer, from each thicket heard -
Where the owl flitteth,

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When I am resting on a mountain's bosom,

And see below me strewn

The huts and homes where humble virtues blossom; When I can trace each streamlet through the meadow When I can follow every fitful shadow

When I can watch the winds among the corn,

And see the waves along the forest borne ;

Where blue-bell and heather

Are blooming together,

And far doth come

The Sabbath bell,

O'er wood and fell;

I hear the beating

Of Nature's heart;

Heaven is before me

God! Thou art!

High thoughts!

They visit us

In moments when the soul is dim and darkened ;
They come to bless,

After the vanities to which we hearkened;
When weariness hath come upon the spirit—
Those hours of darkness which we all inherit-
Bursts there not through a glint of warm sunshine,
A wingéd thought, which bids us not repine?
In joy and gladness,

In mirth and sadness,

Come signs and tokens ;
Life's angel brings
Upon its wings

Those bright communings

The soul doth keep—

Those thoughts of heaven
So pure and deep.




Franklin was born in Boston, of poor parents, and was early apprenticed to the printing business. While thus engaged, he stole hours from sleep, for the purpose of reading, and soon composed and printed ballads, which he sold in the streets. When about sixteen years of age, he dispensed with the use of animal food, that he might save money to buy books; and went on studying nights, and digesting what he had read while working at the press the next day. He began to write anonymously for the New England Courant, pieces which were much thought of, and ascribed to some of the ablest men. At seventeen, he went to Philadelphia, with scarcely money enough to buy a penny roll, after he got there. Soon, under false pretences of being set up in business, he went to London, but accomplished nothing by it. On his return to Philadelphia, through his industry, integrity, and business talent, he succeeded in establishing himself in a printing-office. His future history, as a statesman and philosopher, is too well known, and would require too much space, to be noticed here.



Ir would be thought a hard government, that should tax its people one tenth part of their time, to be employed in its service; but idleness taxes us much more - sloth, by bringing on diseases, absolutely shortens life. 'Sloth, like rust, consumes faster than labor wears; while the used key is always bright," as Poor Richard says. "But dost thou love life, then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of," as Poor Richard says. How much more than is necessary do we spend in sleep, forgetting that "The sleeping fox catches no poultry," and that "There will be sleeping enough in the grave," as Poor Richard says.

"If time be, of all things, the most precious, wasting time must be," as Poor Richard says, "the greatest prodigality;" since, as he elsewhere tells us, "Lost time is never found again; and what we call time enough, always proves little enough." Let us, then, up and be doing, and doing to the purpose; so by

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diligence shall we do more, with less perplexity. "Sloth makes all things difficult; but industry, all easy ;" and "He that riseth late, must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his business at night;" while "Laziness travels so slowly, that Poverty soon overtakes him." "Drive thy business; let not that drive thee;" and "Early to bed, and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise," as Poor Richard says. "Diligence is the mother of good luck, and God gives all things to industry. Then plough deep, while sluggards sleep, and you shall have corn to sell and to keep." Work while it is called to-day; for you know not how much you may be hindered to-morrow. "One to-day is worth two to-morrows;" as Poor Richard says; and further, "Never leave that till to-morrow, which you can do to-day." It is true, there is much to be done, and perhaps you are weak-handed; but stick to it steadily, and you will see great effects; for "Constant dropping wears away stones; " and "By diligence and patience, the mouse ate in two the cable; " and "Little strokes fell great oaks."

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Methinks I hear some of you say, Must a man afford himself no leisure? I will tell thee, my friend, what Poor Richard says; Employ thy time well, if thou meanest to gain leisure; and, since thou art not sure of a minute, throw not away an hour." Leisure is time for doing something useful; this leisure the diligent man will obtain, but the lazy man, never; for "A life of leisure, and a life of laziness, are two things."

But with our industry, we must likewise be steady, settled and careful, and oversee our own affairs with our own eyes, and not trust too much to others; for, as Poor Richard says,

"I never saw an oft-removéd tree,

Nor yet an oft-removéd family,

That throve so well as those that settled be."

And again, "Three removes are as bad as a fire;" and again, "Keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee;" and again, “ If you would have your business done, go; if not, send." "A little neglect may breed to great mischief: for want of a nail, the shoe was lost; for want of a shoe, the horse was lost; and for want of a horse, the rider was lost, being overtaken and slain by the enemy; all for want of a little care about a horse-shoe nail."

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