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Beautiful land of calm repose,

Without one shade of night,
Where joy like a pure river flows,

So clear, so deep, so bright;
Where lovely flowers luxuriant grow,

Untouched by sorrow's blight,
While traversing life's tempestuous sea,
How sweet and how soothing are thoughts of thee.
Yes, thoughts of thee may well beguile

The darkest hours of gloom-
The Christian even learns to smile,

While weeping o'er the tomb ;
His hopes, e'en if they droop awhile,

Can never cease to bloom ;
He looks by sweet faith to the land of the blest,
And rejoices, for there is his home and his rest.

E. L. J

“WHAT IS YOUR LIFE?"

As fleeting as the morning cloud

That moves in fearful silence by,
As changeful as the mists that shroud

The summer-evening sky,
Shifting with every pulse of air,
Just such is life; as false, as fair.
These, as they speed their solemn flight,

Like snow wreaths round the lasting hills,
To catch the sun's retiring light,

Shew forth its fretting ills ;
And busy cares still pressing on,
Till every ray of hope is gone.-
And life has joys that never fail
deep, and bright, and be

eous too,
When not a cloud unfurls its sail,

As heaven's unfading hue ;
Pure joys which, like their parent sky,
Are grandest when the storm rides by.

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That part

REMAINS OF LONDON WALL. The contemplated destruction of this last relic of Roman London, has induced us to present our readers with a sketch of it.

“Our historians," says Camden, “tell us that Constantine the Great, at the request of his mother, Helena, first walled London around with hewn-stone and British bricks, containing within the compass of it about three miles; whereby the city was made a square, but not equilateral; being longer from west to

and from south to north, narrower. of these walls which ran along by the Thames, by the continual beating of the river is quite washed away; though Fitz Stephens tells us there were some pieces of it to be seen in Henry the Second's time: the rest remains to this day, and that part towards the north, very firm; for having not many years since been repaired by one Jotcelin, that was mayor, it put on, as it

were, a new face and freshness. But that toward the east and west, though the barons repaired it in their wars out of the demolished houses of the Jews, is yet ruinous and going all to decay.” VOL. VI. 4th SERIES.

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In this wall were seven gates, the names of which are still retained in the several localities they occupied. The portion of the wall represented in our engraving lies between the Tower and the old gate or Aldgate, and is still to be seen immediately behind the houses on the east side of Trinity-square. The “hewn. stones,” referred to in the preceding extract, form the chief material of this interesting relic; and on a closer inspection many traces of the “British bricks,” also mentioned as employed in the erection of the first wall of London, are discernible. The other portions of this wall, so abundant in the time of Camden, have entirely disappeared ; and it is proposed shortly to remove this remnant for the sake of building a church upon the spot; a circumstance scarcely to be regretted by the Christian antiquary, who would rather trust in the “walls and bulwarks” of the common salvation, than repose any confidence, or cherish any peculiar interest in such memorials of by-gone days, associated as they are with thoughts of rapine, and strife, and worldly conquest.

PROSPERITY AND PEACE.

An aged lady was walking alone on a raised path which ran along the side of a high road. It was evening, and summer time; the day was hot, but she was sheltered from the beams of the sun by the branches of tall trees which hung over a park-paling along the whole course of the causeway.

The dress of this lady was black, and remarkably neat, though it betrayed that the needle had been busy in repairing some defects ; the materials denoting at the same time that it belonged to one fallen in circumstances. She was carrying a small basket in one hand, and a silver-headed stick in the other ; she sometimes leaned on this last, and now and then raised it slightly if she saw a dog or other animal in any part of the road near to her. She was going to a cottage, the chimneys of which might be already seen at a small distance, and was carrying in her basket a small pot of black currant jelly, the contents of which she thought might prove refreshing to a poor woman older than herself, who lay on her deathbed in that cottage.

The place on which she was walking was at a very small distance

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