Mean time, the moist malignity to shun
Of burthen'd skies, mark where the dry cham-
paign

Swells into cheerful hills; where marjoram
And thyme, the love of bees, perfume the air;
And where the cynnorrhodon with the rose
For fragrance vies; for in the thirsty soil
Most fragrant breathe th' aromatic tribes.
There bid thy roofs high on the basking steep
Ascend, there light thy hospitable fires,
And let them see the winter morn arise,
The summer ev'ning blushing in the west;
While with umbrageous oaks the ridge behind
O'erhung, defends you from the blust'ring
north,

And bleak affliction of the peevish east.
O! when the growling winds contend, and all
The sounding forest fluctuates in the storm,
To sink in warm repose, and hear the din
Howl o'er the steady battlements, delights
Above the luxury of vulgar sleep. Armstrong.

BUILDING-Thoughtfulness in.

When we mean to build,

We first survey the plot, then draw the model; And when we see the figure of the house, Then must we rate the cost of the erection. Shakspeare.

For which of you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down first, and counteth the cost, whether he hath sufficient to finish it? Lest haply, after he hath laid the foundation, and is not able to finish it, all that behold it begin to mock him, saying, This man began to build, and was not able to finish. St. Matthew.

A brave man is sometimes a desperado; a bully is always a coward. Haliburton.

BUSINESS.

BURIAL-on the Battle-field.
Not a drum was heard-nor a funeral note,
As his corse to the rampart we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
O'er the grave where our hero was buried.

We buried him darkly, at dead of night,
The sod with our bayonets turning,
By the struggling moonbeam's misty light,
And the lantern dimly burning.

No useless coffin inclosed his breast,

Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.

Few and short were the prayers we said,
And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead,
And we bitterly thought of the morrow.

We thought, as we hollow'd his narrow bed,
And smooth'd down his lonely pillow,
That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er

his head,

And we far away on the billow.

Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,
And o'er the cold ashes upbraid him;
But little he'll reck, if they'll let him sleep on,
In the grave where a Briton has laid him.

But half of our heavy task was done,

When the clock toll'd the hour for retiring; And we heard the distant and random gun, That the foe was sullenly firing.

Slowly and sadly we laid him down,

From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a

CALAMITIES.

CANDLELIGHT.

CALCULATION (Mental)-likened to a Detached Lever.

I have an immense respect for a man of talents-plus "the mathematics." But the calculating power alone should seem to be the least human of qualities, and to have the smallest amount of reason in it; since a machine can be made to do the work of three or four calculators, and better than any one of them. Sometimes I have been troubled that I had not a deeper intuitive apprehension of the relations of numbers. But the triumph of the ciphering hand-organ has consoled me. I always fancy I can hear the wheels clicking in a calculator's brain. The power of dealing with numbers is a kind of "detached lever" arrangement, which may be put into a mighty poor watch. I suppose it is about as common as the power of moving the ears voluntarily, which is a moderately rare endowment.

It is most depressing and miserable work getting up by candlelight. It is impossible to shave comfortably; it is impossible to have a satisfactory bath; it is impossible to find anything you want. Sleep, says Sancho Panza, covers a man all over like a mantle of comfort; but rising before daylight envelopes the entire being in petty misery. An indescribable vacuity makes itself felt in the epigastric regions, and a leaden heaviness weighs upon heart and spirits. It must be a considerable item in the hard lot of domestic servants, to have to get up through all the winter months in the cold dark house let us be thankful to them through whose humble labours and selfdenial we find the cheerful fire blazing in the tidy breakfast parlour when we find our way downstairs. That same apartment looked cheerless enough when the housemaid entered it two hours ago. It is sad, when you are lying in bed of a morning, lazily conscious of that circling amplitude of comfort, to hear the

:

CANDLELIGHT.

chilly cry of the poor sweep outside; or the tread of the factory hands shivering by in their thin garments towards the great cottonmill, glaring spectral out of its many windows, but at least with a cosy suggestion of warmth and light. Think of the baker, too, who rose in the dark of midnight that those hot rolls might appear on your breakfast table; and of the printer, intelligent, active, accurate to a degree that you careless folk who put no points in your letters have little idea of, whose labours have given you that damp sheet which in a little time will feel so crisp and firm after it has been duly dried, and which will tell you all that is going on over all the world, down to the opera which closed at twelve, and the Parliamentary debate which was not over till half-past four. It is good occasionally to rise at five on a December morning, that you may feel how much you are indebted to some who do so for your sake all the winter through. No doubt they get accustomed to it; but so may you by doing it always. A great many people, living easy lives, have no idea of the discomfort of rising by candlelight. Probably they hardly ever did it; when they did it, they had a blazing fire and abundant light to dress by; and even with these advantages, which essentially change the nature of the enterprise, they have not done it for very long.

CANDOUR-Honesty of.

Sala.

You talk to me in parables: You may have known that I'm no wordy man: Fine speeches are the instruments of knaves, | Or fools that use them, when they want good

1

As when the devilish iron engine wrought In deepest hell, and framed by furies' skill,

The cannons have their bowels full of wrath; And ready mounted are they to spit forth Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls.

Shakspeare. CANT-Hypocrisy and Assumption of. We know not a more certain symptom of hypocrisy in religion, than in minds, themselves obviously worldly in the extreme, an exaggerated condemnation of all little worldlinesses in all other honest people, gravely jogging, or gravely skipping along their path of life. Those people are often the least worldly, on whom they who make the loudest boast of their unworldliness seek basely to affix that opprobrious epithet. For they walk the world with a heart pure as it is cheerful; they are, by that unpretending purity, saved from infection; as there are as many fair and healthy faces to be seen in the smoke and stir of cities, as in the rural wilds, so also are there as many fair and healthy spirits. The world, the wicked world, has not that power over us Christians that the canters say; and as for the mere amusements of the world, frivolous as they may too often be, little or no power have they over that which is "so majestical." Yet, to listen to some folks, you would think that all the boys and girls one sees, "like gay creatures of the element," dancing under a chandelier pendent from the roof, like some starry constellation, were quadrilling away to the sound of music into the bottomless pit. Is it not, for example, most disgusting and loathsome to hear some broad-backed, thick-calved, greasy-faced, wellfed and not badly-drunk caitiff, of some canting caste, distinguished in public and private life for the gross greediness with which they gobble up everything eatable within reach of their hairy fists-preaching and praying, and exhorting young people, full of flesh and blood of the purest and clearest quality, to forsake and forswear the world; to quell within them all mortal vanities, and appetites, and lusts. To whom is the hound haranguing! What means he by lusts, while the sweet face is before him of that innocent girl of fifteen or twenty? For what are years to her, into

CANT.

whose eyes God and the Saviour have put that light angelical; that ineffable loveliness, as pure from taint as the beauty of the rose blushing on her lily breast, which she gathered in the dewy garden a few hours ago, amongst the earliest songs of birds, while yet the pensive expression had not time to leave her countenance, still lingering there from the piety of her soul-breathed prayers? Shocking to hear the ugly monster coarsely canting to such a creature of her corruption! She knows that she belongs to a fallen nature. Oftentimes her tears have flowed to think how undeserving she was of all the goodness

showered on her head from Heaven. Often

has she looked on the lilies of the field, and envied their innocence. Meek and humble is she, even in her most joyful happiness; contrite and repentant, even over the shadows of sin that may have crossed her spirit, as the shadows of clouds suddenly over "a stationary spot of sunshine." Even for her sake she knows that "Jesus wept." With what a reverent touch do these delicate hands of hers turn over the leaves of the New Testament! Her father and her mother intensely feel themselves to be Christians, while she reads to them the story of the crucifixion. She remembers not the time when she knew not Him who died to save sinners. Professor Wilson.

CARDS-Duty on.

It is quite right that there should be a heavy duty on cards: not only on moral grounds; not only because they act on a social party like a torpedo, silencing the merry voice and numbing the play of the features; not only to still the hunger of the public purse, which, reversing the quality of Fortunatus's, is always empty, however much you may put into it; but also because every pack of cards is a malicious libel on courts, and on the world, seeing that the trumpery with number one at the head is the best part of them; and that it gives kings and queens no other companions than knaves. Southey.

CARDS-Folly of.

It is very wonderful to see persons of the best sense passing away a dozen hours together in shuffling and dividing a pack of cards, with no other conversation but what is made up of a few game-phrases, and no other ideas but those of black or red spots ranged together in different figures. Would not a man laugh to hear any one of his species complaining that life is short? Addison.

CARE-a Clog.

All creatures else a time of love possess, Man only clogs with care his happiness,