justly remarked,-"It is a false notion, that we ought to know nothing out of our particular line of study or profession; you will be none the less distinguished in your calling, for having obtained an item of practical knowledge from every one with whom you meet. And every man, in his particular calling, knows things which you do not, and which are decidedly worth knowing. Old-fashioned economists will tell you never to pass an old nail, or horse-shoe, or buckle, or even a pin, without taking it up, because, although you may not want it now, you will find a use for it some time or other. I say the same thing with regard to knowledge; however useless it may seem at the moment, seize all that is fairly within your reach." Accomplished young ladies will do well to remember that a good stock of sound practical knowledge will never sully or disparage their lighter accomplishments; but that, without such knowledge, they will never be qualified to be interesting companions, or useful members of society.

THE MESSIAH.

POPE.

YE nymphs of Solyma! begin the song:
To heavenly themes sublimer strains belong.
The mossy fountains and the sylvan shades,
The dreams of Pindus 2 and th' Aonian maids,3
Delight no more. O Thou my voice inspire,
Who touched Isaiah's hallow'd lips with fire!

Rapt into future times the bard begun!
A virgin shall conceive, a virgin bear a son!
From Jesse's root behold a Branch arise,
Whose sacred flower with fragrance fills the skies:
Th' æthereal Spirit o'er its leaves shall move,
And on its tops descend the mystic Dove.
Ye heavens! from high the dewy nectar pour,
And in soft silence shed the kindly shower;
The sick and weak the healing plant shall aid,
From storms a shelter, and from heat a shade.
All crimes shall cease, and ancient frauds shall fail;
Returning Justice lift aloft her scale;

Peace o'er the world her olive-wand extend,

And white-robed Innocence from heaven descend.

(1) Jerusalem.

(2) A mountain of Thessaly sacred to the Muses.

(3) The Muses, so called from their favourite resort.

(4) Father of King David.

Swift fly the years, and rise th' expected morn!
O spring to light! auspicious Babe, be born!
See, Nature hastes her earliest wreaths to bring
With all the incense of the breathing spring:
See lofty Lebanon his head advance:

See nodding forests on the mountain dance:
See spicy clouds from lowly Sharon 1 rise,
And Carmel's flowery top perfume the skies!
Hark! a glad voice the lonely desert cheers,
Prepare the way! a God, a God appears;
A God, a God! the vocal hills reply:
The rocks proclaim th' approaching Deity.
Lo, earth receives Him from the bending skies:
Sink down, ye mountains: and ye valleys, rise:
With heads declined, ye cedars, homage pay:
Be smooth, ye rocks; ye rapid floods, give way!
The Saviour comes, by ancient bards foretold!
Hear him, ye deaf; and all ye blind, behold!
He from thick films shall purge the visual ray,
And on the sightless eyeball pour the day;
"Tis He the obstructed paths of sound shall clear,
And bid new music charm the unfolding ear:
The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego,
And leap exulting like the bounding roe.
No sigh, no murmur, the wide world shall hear;
From every face He wipes off every tear.
In adamantine chains shall death be bound,
And hell's grim tyrant feel the eternal wound.
As the good shepherd tends his fleecy care,
Seeks freshest pasture and the purest air;
Explores the lost, the wandering sheep directs;
By day o'ersees them, and by night protects;
The tender lambs he raises in his arms,
Feeds from his hand, and in his bosom warms;
Thus shall mankind His guardian care engage,—
The promised Father of the future age.
No more shall nation against nation rise,
Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes,
Nor fields with gleaming steel be cover'd o'er,
The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more:
But useless lances into scythes shall bend,
And the broad falchion' in a ploughshare end:
Then palaces shall rise; the joyful son
Shall finish what his short-lived sire begun;
Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield,
And the same hand that sow'd shall reap the field;

The swain in barren deserts with surprise
Sees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise;
And starts, amidst the thirsty wilds, to hear
New falls of water murmuring in his ear.
On rifted rocks, the dragon's late abodes,
The green

reed trembles, and the bulrush nods. Waste, sandy valleys, once perplex'd with thorn, The spiry fir and stately box adorn :

To leafless shrubs the flowery palms succeed,
And odorous myrtle to the noisome weed.

The lambs with wolves shall graze the verdant mead,
And boys in flowery bands the tiger lead:
The steer and lion at one crib shall meet,
And harmless serpents lick the pilgrim's feet.
The smiling infant in his hand shall take
The crested basilisk1 and speckled snake;
Pleased, the green lustre of the scales survey,
And with their forked tongue shall innocently play.
Rise, crown'd with light, imperial Salem, rise!
Exalt thy towery head, and lift thy eyes!
See a long race thy spacious courts adorn;
See future sons and daughters yet unborn,
In crowding ranks on every side arise,
Demanding life, impatient for the skies:
See barbarous nations at thy gates attend,
Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend:

See thy bright altars throng'd with prostrate kings,
And heap'd with products of Sabæan 2 springs.
For thee Idumé's spicy forests blow,

3

5

And seeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow.
See heaven its sparkling portals wide display,
And break upon thee in a flood of day!
No more the rising sun shall gild the morn,
Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn,
But lost, dissolved in thy superior rays,
One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze,
O'erflow thy courts: the Light himself shall shine
Reveal'd, and God's eternal day be thine!

The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay,
Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away;
But fix'd His word, His saving power remains;
Thy realm for ever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns!

(1) A species of serpent, said to possess a strange power of fascination. (2) Arabian. (3) A country south of Palestine. (4) Ophir, a country from whence gold was imported. (5) A surname of Diana, or the moon.

THE LOTTERY.

FROM "MEMOIRS OF A DOLL.

ONE day Henrietta had played with me all the morning, at paying visits very finely dressed, when a poor woman called with three young children half clothed, and crying with the cold. This unfortunate person had been recommended to Mrs. Ainsworth's charitable feelings by a lady who begged her to assist her and some other ladies in helping the poor woman to return to Yorkshire, her native county. She had lost her husband, who was an excellent workman, and who had consequently earned enough to keep his family comfortably; but his death had deprived them of their only resource.

Henrietta listened to their sad story with compassion. I was asleep in her arms, but this did not prevent me noticing the way in which she contemplated their clothes all in rags, and I felt, at the same time, that her dear little hand was stroking my merino wool stockings which she had knitted. No doubt she said to herself, "Violet, my doll, has nice warm stockings, fur shoes, in fact everything she does not want; but these poor children are almost barefoot."

She sighed, went away, and soon returned with thick slices of bread and butter, and some old clothes that Betsy had looked out for her. Mrs. Ainsworth gave the poor woman (whose name was Sarah) some money, and sent her away somewhat consoled by the kind reception she had met with.

When she found herself alone with her mother, Henrietta began to talk about the poor widow and her little children, and I assure you there was great good sense in her remarks. Mrs. Ainsworth, delighted at the sensibility of her child, determined to develop this pleasing and valuable quality.

"Dear Mamma," said Henrietta, "if they have no money, how can they manage at the railway?"

"They will walk, my child."

"Walk! Mamma, it is impossible. What! all the way to Yorkshire-Oh! how I wish I was grown up, I would pay all the fare. When I am grown up I shall have a watch, like my cousins; but as long as I am little, I shall have nothing-nothing-only my doll!"

"Well, that is something," said Mrs. Ainsworth.

"Why! Mamma, a doll is nothing, she could not be of use to those poor people," replied Henrietta, blushing, and holding me very tight. "Besides, give away Violet, such a sweet doll! what a notion, Mamma!"