2. When reposing that night on my pallet of straw, By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain, At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,

And thrice ere the morning I dreamed it again.

3. Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array, Far, far, I had roamed on a desolate track; "T was autumn, and sunshine arose on the way, To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.

4. I flew to the pleasant fields, traversed so oft

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,'

And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.

5. Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore From my home and my weeping friends never to part; My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er,

And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness of heart.

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6. "Stay, stay with us, rest, thou art weary and worn ;
And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay;
But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn,
And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.

LESSON XCVII. The Sabbath.

1. How still the morning of the hallowed day!
Mute is the voice of rural labor, hushed.
The ploughboy's whistle, and the milk-maid's song.
The scythe lies glittering in the dewy wreath
Of tedded grass, mingled with fading flowers,
That yester-morn bloomed waving in the breeze.
Sounds the most faint attract the ear, the hum
Of early bee, the trickling of the dew,
The distant bleating, midway up the hill.
Calmness sits throned on yon unmoving cloud.

2. To him who wanders o'er the upland leas,

The blackbird's note comes. mellower from the dale;

THE SABBATH.

And sweeter from the sky the gladsome lark
Warbles his heaven-tuned song; the lulling brook
Murmurs more gently down the deep-worn glen ;
While, from yon lowly roof, whose curling smoke
O'ermounts the mist, is heard, at intervals,

The voice of psalms, the simple song of praise.

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3. With dove-like wings, Peace o'er yon village broods;
The dizzying mill-wheel rests; the anvil's din
Hath ceased; all, all around is quietness.
Less fearful on this day, the limping hare

Stops, and looks back, and stops, and looks on man,
Her deadliest foe. The toil-worn horse, set free,
Unheedful of the pasture, roams at large;
And, as his stiff, unwieldy bulk he rolls,
His iron-armed hoofs gleam in the morning ray.

4. But chiefly man the day of rest enjoys.

Hail, Sabbath! thee I hail, the poor man's day..
On other days the man of toil is doomed
To eat his joyless bread, lonely; the ground

Both seat and board; screened from the winter's cold
And summer's heat, by neighboring hedge or tree;
But on this day, embosomed in his home,
He shares the frugal meal with those he loves;
With those he loves he shares the heartfelt joy
Of giving thanks to God, not thanks of form,
A word and a grimace, but reverently,

With covered face, and upward, earnest eye.

5. Hail, Sabbath! thee I hail, the poor man's day.
The pale mechanic now has leave to breathe
The morning air, pure from the city's smoke ;
While, wandering slowly up the river side,
He meditates on Him, whose power he marks
In each green tree that proudly spreads the bough,
As in the tiny dew-bent flowers, that bloom
Around its roots; and while he thus surveys,
With elevated joy, each rural charm,

He hopes, yet fears presumption in the hope,
That heaven may be one Sabbath without end.

LESSON XCVIII. Neatness.

1. AMONG the minor virtues, cleanliness ought to be conspicuously ranked; and in the common topics of praise we generally arrange some commendation of neatness. It involves much. It supposes a love of order, and attention to the laws of custom, and a decent pride. My Lord Bacon says, that " a good person is a perpetual letter of recom

mendation."

2. This idea may be extended. Of a well-dressed man it may be affirmed, that he has a sure passport through the realms of civility. In first interviews we can judge of no one except from appearances. He, therefore, whose exterior is agreeable, begins well in any society.

3. Men and women are disposed to augur favorably rather than otherwise of him who manifests, by the purity and propriety of his garb, a disposition to comply and to please. As in rhetoric, a judicious exordium is of admirable use to render an audience docile, attentive, and benevolent, so, at our introduction into good company, clean and modish apparel is at least a serviceable herald of our exertions, though an humble one.

4. Should I see a man, though even a genius, totally regardless of his person, I should immediately doubt the delicacy of his taste and the accuracy of his judgment. I should conclude there was some obliquity in his mind, a dull sense of decorum, and a disregard of order. I should fancy, that he consorted with low society, and, instead of claiming the privilege of genius to knock and be admitted. at palaces, that he chose to sneak in at the back-door of hovels, and wallow brutishly in the sty of the vulgar.

5. The Orientals are particularly careful of their persons. Their frequent ablutions and change of garments are noticed in every page of their history. More than one precept for neatness can be quoted from the Bible. The wise men of the East supposed there was some analogy between the purity of the body and that of the mind, nor is this a vain imagination.

6. I cannot conclude these remarks better than by an extract from the works of Count Rumford, who, in few and strong words, has fortified my doctrine; "With what care

and attention do the feathered race wash themselves, and put their plumage in order! and how perfectly neat, clean, and elegant, do they ever appear! Among the beasts of the field, we find that those which are the most cleanly are generally the most. gay and cheerful, or are distinguished by a certain air of tranquillity and contentment; and singing-birds are always remarkable for the neatness of their plumage. So great is the effect of cleanliness upon man, that it extends even to his moral character. Virtue never dwelt long with filth; nor do I believe there ever was a person scrupulously attentive to cleanliness, who was a consummate villain."

LESSON XCIX. Children.

1. AMONG yonder children who are now playing together like birds among the blossoms of earth, haunting all the green shadowy places thereof, and rejoicing in the bright air, happy and beautiful creatures, and as changeable as happy, with eyes brimful of joy, and with hearts playing upon their faces like sunshine upon clear waters; - among those who are now idling together on that slope, or pursuing butterflies together on the edge of that wood, a wilderness of roses, you would see not only the gifted and the powerful, the wise and the eloquent, the ambitious and the renowned, the longlived and the long-to-be-lamented of another age; but the wicked and the treacherous, the liar and the thief, the abandoned profligate, and the faithless husband, the gambler and the drunkard, the robber, the burglar, the murderer, and the betrayer of his country." The child is father of the

man."

2. Among them, and that other little troop just appearing, children with yet happier faces, and pleasanter eyes, the blossoms of the future, the mothers of nations, - you would see the founders of states and the destroyers of their country, the steadfast and the weak, the judge and the criminal, the murderer and the executioner, the exalted and the lowly, the unfaithful wife and the broken-hearted husband, the proud betrayer and his pale victim, the living and breathing portents and prodigies, the embodied virtues and

vices of another age and of another world, and all playing together! "Men are but children of a larger growth."

3. Pursuing the search, you would go further among the little creatures, as among the types of another and a loftier language, to become universal hereafter, types in which the autobiography of the future was written ages and ages ago. Among the innocent and helpless creatures that are called children, you would see warriors, with their garments rolled in blood, the spectres of kings and princes, poets with golden harps and illuminated eyes, historians and painters, architects and sculptors, mechanics and merchants, preachers and lawyers; here a grave-digger, flying a kite with his future customer; there a physician, playing at marbles with his; here the predestined to an early and violent death for cowardice, fighting the battles of a whole neighborhood: there a Cromwell, or a Cæsar, a Napoleon, or a Washington, hiding themselves for fear, enduring reproach or insult with patience; a Benjamin Franklin, higgling for nuts or gingerbread, or the "old Parr" of another generation, sitting apart in the sunshine, and shivering at every breath of wind that reaches him. Yet we are told, that "just as the twig is bent, the tree 's inclined."

4. Such are children. Corrupted, they are fountains of bitterness for ages. Would you plant for the skies? Plant in the live soil of the warm, and generous, and youthful; pour all your treasures into the hearts of children. Would you look into the future as with the spirit of prophecy, and read, as with a telescope, the history and character of our country, and of other countries? You have but to watch the eyes of children at play.

5. Even fathers and mothers look upon children with a strange misapprehension of their dignity. Even with the poets, they are only the flowers and blossoms, the dewdrops or the playthings, of earth. Yet of such is the kingdom of heaven." The kingdom of heaven! with all its principalities and powers, its hierarchies, dominions, and thrones! The Saviour understood them better; to him their true dignity was revealed. Flowers! they are the flowers of the invisible world; indestructible, self-perpetuating flowers, each with a multitude of angels and evil spirits underneath its leaves, toiling and wrestling for dominion over it!

6. Blossoms! They are the blossoms. of another world,