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darting his red beams through the cottage window, Mrs. Shaw and the old shepherd sat in deep suspense, gazing on the sleeping form of Agnes. She had fallen into that sleep from which she was to awake either to live or to die. Can we describe the deep anxiety with which they watched the life of one so dear to them as it trembled in the balance. Many a silent petition was breathed in her behalf.

At last the sleeper moved and smiled, and the anxious watchers exchanged a hopeful glance; but it was the smile that indicated how near she was to heaven, as without a struggle or a sigh, her gentle spirit entered into rest.

A little way up the glen there is a lonely grave, almost hidden by the long broom, it escapes the notice of the traveller. At its head there stands a moss-grown stone, and on it is rudely engraved the name, “ Agnes Shaw."

ALERTON.

Enquiries and Correspondence.

19.-Obedience of Servants. MR. EDITOR,—Will you oblige the writer by answering the following question in your periodical.

Is it the duty of servants to obey their masters in any thing which conscience prohibits ?

Supposing, for example, that a master tells a servant to attend a certain place of worship, and that servant, finds that he gets more real good under another minister, is he obliged to obey his master ?

I remain,
Yours respectfully,

R. W.

*.* The question, on Parental Authority, (p. 138) remains unanswered. Our friends will perhaps oblige us with one answer to both enquiries

POETRY.

THE SAVIOUR AND THE PATRIOT. [Suggested by Martin's celebrated picture of Marcus Curtius and the Crucifixion.]

THERE is the Roman Forum -what a crowd

Of eager forms are gather'd far around!
The murmurs of ten thousand voices loud

Have died away and now is heard no sound
And every heart is fill’d with awe profound.

In glittering arms arrayed, on war-horse proud,
There is the Roman--there the yawning ground;

On his calm youthful brow appears no cloud,
“What gift more precious can my country show

Than the true heart that dares for her to die?
Romans, farewell,- I to my fathers go!"

The warrior said, then waved his spear on high,
Sprang the brave steed and down the black gulph bore
The self-devoted youth, and he was seen no more!
A sound arose of female wailing deep

For one led up to die on Calvary.
· Daughters of Salem, mourn not thus for me,

Weep for yourselves, and for your children weep.
In tender tones high words of prophecy

He spake;-and, whilst on him his fierce foes heap
Insult and bitter scorn and mockery,

He opened not his mouth-dumb as the sheep
Before her shearer. Wherefore did he die ?

Fix'd on the cross, beneath high heaven upraised
Whilst angels, men and fiends intently gazed ?

He died to ope a passage to the sky ;-
The gulph that sin had caused he died to close,

He died to save a world—that world, his foes !
Bramham.

S.

WESTMINSTER ABBEY.
WHERE am I? Looks of the immortal dead

Are on me, and I quail before the gaze
Of Bards and Seer-like men, who nobly shed

Over our hope the light of better days.

My heart is stilled! for all around are laid

Chieftains of godlike deeds, and burning lays,
And a new might seems through my being spread,

To go and combat life's uncertain ways.
-Yea, a New Might!—for ye, who, with the spell

Of heavenly truth, repelled the Atheist's will,
And ye, who, in the dungeon's drear, damp cell,

Left angel foot-prints like a moon-beam's smile,
Ye all were fashioned by that grace anew,
Which shall baptize my soul to go and work like you.

MARY S.

THE BALL AND THE BOUQUET.

66

[On hearing a Lady say, when receiving a bouquet, How beautiful! I almost wish

I were going to a ball.]
Heard

ye the lady's wish, my gentle flowers ?
O tell me truly, would ye love to go,
Shedding the fragrance of your last sweet hours,
Among the wooers of vain pomp and show ?
The flowers answer-“Such is not our choice :
The night was made for rest, and not for pleasure :
“Our buds then love to close, ere they rejoice
“Fair Morning's face with beauty's added measure.
“When we must go, we will a sermon preach ;
“Our star-like eyes will win for us attention ;
Although the many, whom we come to teach,
“Of learning aught so sage have no intention.
“Our eloquence we will not now rehearse :
6. Passing away,

our solemn text shall be:
“But sermons are not often put in verse,
“So think upon the wise things we could say.
I will “consider” well my sweetest flowers;
But tell me, would ye never quit your home ?
“O yes! we love to soothe the weary

hours
“Of those, from whom the bloom of health is flown.

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66

“ We love to be the mother's bright reward,
“For childhood's little duties well performed;
“ And birthday garlands, twined with golden cord
“Of gratitude, for treasures thus adorned.
“ We love to deck the home of love unbroken,

Welcoming back the loved from daily toil ;
“We love to be the silent truthful token
“Of friendship, sweetening this world's care and coil.”
Thanks, gentle flowers, and now we'll say

farewell!
Where'er you go, breathe still the same sweet tale ;
And, dying, point to wreaths of “ Immortelle," +
Sharon's sweet Rose, and Lily of the Vale. FLORA.

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ST. MATTHEW xi. 28.
ART thou sin-burthened

Wearied, opprest,
Come to me, wanderer,

And thou shalt have Rest.
Afflicted and tempest-tost,

Weeping shall cease,
Come to me, mourner,

And thou shalt have Peace.
Sin-troubled, wandering

In this world's dark night,
Come in thy blindness

And all shall be Light.
Lyme Regis.

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THE INFANT'S HOME.
SINKING from his mother's breast,
Early hath he found his rest:
Brief space this dove-like innocent
To our dark prison, Earth, was lent,
But soon, unscathed, he fled to light.
-Doves have no safety but in flight;
On the food that earth can give
He could never feed and live,
But to the Safety Ark above

The mother must restore her dove.
Lyme Regis.

E.L. A.

+ The “Everlasting Flower,” the emblem of immortality Canticles ii. 1.

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