mon to sterner skies. As it reaches the west it is entirely melted and circles around the setting sun, a girdle of glory, but still subdued into a soothing softness. 11. This is a rare East Indian scene, such as can not be copied where frosts have made the sun pale and set the clouds in a shiver. And now the sun nears the water, dips his lower disk in the tide, and drops down behind it with but little of the ceremony that marks his exit on land. And now for other beauties, since the storehouse of creation is exhaustless. But look upon the surface of the water! One half is of a pale flickering orange, while the other displays fold on fold of crimson, lost in the blackness of approaching night; and far behind us we are dragging in the wake of the ship long lines of green and amber and purple, each rarer than ever robed a Tyrian princess. A still dimmer haze, though all of a dark rich purple, creeps on the face of the sea as twilight deepens, and one by one the stars open their bright eyes on the misty scene below. 12. Land at last,—the strange land that for us bears the fond name of home. In a long chain, made up of irregular links, which it seems that a breath might dissever, stretches from the south, far up to the head of the bay, the shore of Burmah. The faint wind dallies about the deck, and creeps over brow and cheek with a soft, soothing deliciousness, but there is only a breath of it stirring, and that is “dead ahead." We have been beating landward with but little success during the past week, but patience! the goal is now in sight, and it matters little whether we reach it to-day or to-morrow, or the day after. 13. Surely we will not murmur at a day more or less tacked to the end of a twenty-weeks' voyage. Thank God, that he has spread the land before our eyes at last; that he has shielded us when wrath was stirring in the heavens, and darkness was upon the waters; that he has pinioned the wings of the wind, and said to the waves, "Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther." 14. Last night a poor, tired little land-bird, with a head like a blue violet in the spring-time, and a neck slender and most gracefully arched, entered at the window of the saloon, and nestled down on the cushions of the transom with the fond confidence of our own tuneful robin. It was a sweet harbinger, and most joyfully welcomed. It needs not the olive-leaf to be a dove to us,-the beautiful little stranger! 15. On-on-on-slowly-very slowly; but the land gradually becomes more distinct; the purple hue of the hills is changing to emerald; masses of trees appear like small clumps of shrubbery; the glass discovers to us the tiny sails of fishermen close in shore, and hark! the cry, "Amherst!" XXXII.-"WATCH AND PRAY." H. N. DUNNING. 1. The Watcher stood on Carmel's height, Gazing across the sobbing sea, Scanning the burning sky; While with bowed head between his knees, 2. Watched for the coming of the cloud, To shade the burning of the sky, To cheer the earth again, The cloud with wind, like breath of God, The rain, like rush of angels' wings, 3. "Nothing! nothing!" the Watcher cried- The same fierce sun that burns the earth Again the Watcher's eye looked for 4. "Nothing! nothing!" the Watcher cried- Bowed 'twixt his knees again. And thus twice, thrice, seven times they strive, 5. "Oh can it be the God whose breath The wood, stones, water, all ablaze 6. "Oh can it be this God whose wrath Our prostrate souls approve, So burning in his holiness, Is not a God of love? Oh Heaven! for thy dear Mercy's sake, Dissolve this spell of burning wrath! Oh melt these brazen skies!" 7. Seven times the two souls watched and prayed, Seven times with faith and hope, When from the sea a little cloud Pushes its finger up! A hand! A hand! A cloud-formed hand! The hand God's chosen find Always revealed to point before When God is close behind! 8. And swelling in proportions vast Reveals an awful form; God coming in his majesty, God in the blessed storm; Blackening the heavens with clouds and wind, Pouring the welcome rain; Filling the thirsty earth with floods 9. Oh watchers on the mountain height, Of loving hearts and praying hands— 10. A finger, hand, an arm, a form Of power and grace divine! The heavens shall swell with blessed showers, The earth with rain-drops shine! Oh dare with loving hearts to bring The sacrifice of blood! While Hope stands watching on the mount And Faith lays hold on God! XXXIII.—A FLOWER FOR THE WINDOW. LEIGH HUNT. 1. Why does not every one who can afford it have a geranium in his window, or some other flower? It is very cheap; its cheapness is next to nothing, if you raise it from seed or from a slip; and it is a beauty and a companion. It sweetens the air, rejoices the eye, links you with nature and innocence, and is something to love. And if it can not love you in return, it can not hate you ; it can not utter a hateful thing even for your neglecting it; for, though it is all beauty, it has no vanity; and such being the case, and living as it does purely to do you good and afford pleasure, how will you be able to neglect it? 2. But, pray, if you choose a geranium, or possess but a few of them, let us persuade you to choose the scarlet kind, the "old original" geranium, and not a variety of it,-not one of the numerous diversities of red and white, blue and white, or ivy-leaved. Those are all beautiful, and very fit to vary a large collection; but to prefer them to the originals of the race is to run the hazard of preferring the curious to the beautiful, and costliness to sound taste. 3. It may be taken as a good general rule, that the most popular plants are the best; for otherwise they would not have become such. And what the painters call "pure colors are preferable to mixed ones, for reasons which Nature herself has given when she painted the sky of one color, and the fields of another, and divided the rainbow itself into a few distinct colors, and made the red rose the queen of flowers. 4. Variations in flowers are like variations in music, often beautiful as such, but almost always inferior to the theme on which they are founded—the original air. And the rule holds good in beds of flowers, if they be not very large, or in any other small assemblage of them. Nay, the largest bed will look well, if of one beautiful color, while the most beautiful varieties may be inharmoniously mixed up. Contrast is a good thing, but we must observe the laws of harmonious contrast, and unless we have space enough to secure these, it is better to be content with unity and simplicity, which are always to be had. The 5. We do not, in general, love and honor any one single color enough, and we are instinctively struck with a conviction to this effect, when we see it abundantly set forth. other day we saw a little garden-wall completely covered with nasturtiums, and felt how much more beautiful they were than if any thing had been mixed with them; for the leaves and the light and shade offer variety enough. The rest is all richness and simplicity united, which is the triumph of an intense perception. Embower a cottage thickly and completely with nothing but roses, and nobody would desire the interference of another plant. 6. Every thing is handsome about the geranium, not excepting its name; which can not be said of all flowers, though we get to love ugly words when associated with pleasing |