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SEA-SIDE THOUGHTS.

BEAUTIFUL, sublime, and glorious,
Mild, majestic, foaming, free ;-
Over time itself victorious,
Image of eternity.

Sun, and moon, and stars shine o'er thee,

See thy surface ebb and flow;

Yet attempt not to explore thee
In thy soundless depths below.

Whether morning's splendours steep thee,
With the rainbow's glowing grace,
Tempests rouse, or navies sweep thee,
'Tis but for a moment's space.

Earth, her valleys, and her mountains,
Mortal man's behests obey;

The unfathomable fountains

Scoff his search, and scorn his sway.

Such art thou-stupendous Ocean!
But, if overwhelmed by thee,
Can we think without emotion

What must thy Creator be?-Bernard Barton.

THE VICE OF LYING.

To warn us from lying, we should do well to consider the folly, the meanness, and the wickedness of it. The folly of lying consists in its defeating its own purpose. A habit of lying is generally detected in the end; and after detection, the liar, instead of deceiving, will not even be believed when he happens to speak the truth. Nay, every single lie is attended with such a variety of circumstances, which lead to a detection, that it is often discovered. The use generally made of a lie, is to cover a fault; but, as this end is seldom answered, we only aggravate what we wish to conceal. In point even of prudence, an honest confession would serve us better.

The meanness of lying arises from the cowardice which

it implies. We dare not boldly and nobly speak the truth, but have recourse to some subterfuge, which always shows a sordid and disingenuous mind. Hence it is, that in the fashionable world, the word liar is always considered as a term of peculiar reproach. The wickedness of lying consists in its perverting one of the greatest blessings of God, the use of speech, in making that a mischief to mankind, which was intended for a benefit. Truth is the greatest bond of society. If one man lies, why may not another? and if there is no mutual truth, there is an end to all intercourse.

An equivocation is nearly related to a lie. It is an intention to deceive under words of a double meaning, or words which, literally speaking, are true; and is equally criminal with the most downright breach of truth. A nod, or sign, may convey a lie as effectually as the most deceitful language. Under the head of lying may be mentioned a breach of promise. Every engagement, though of the slightest kind, should be punctually observed; and he who does not think himself bound by such an obligation, has little pretensions to the character of an honest and an upright man.-Evans.

THE BIRTH OF CHRIST.

BRIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning,
Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid,
Star of the East, the horizon adorning,

Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid!
Cold on his cradle the dew-drops are shining,
Low lies his bed with the beasts of the stall!
Angels adore him in slumber reclining,

Maker, and Monarch, and Saviour of all!
Say, shall we yield him in costly devotion,
Odours of Edom, and offerings divine;

Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean,
Myrrh from the forest, and gold from the mine?

Vainly we offer each ample oblation,

Vainly with gold would his favour secure ;

Richer by far is the heart's adoration,

Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor!

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning,
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid,
Star of the East, the horizon adorning,

Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid!-Heber.

THE LANTERN FLY.

THIS is a very curious kind of fly. Its head looks like a large hollow lantern, and shines so brightly that travellers are said to pursue their journeys by the light of this fly. For this purpose they catch one of them, and tie it to a stick, and carry it before them, as it were a torch. This fly is to be found in many parts of South America. A lady who was travelling in the country where these flies abound, gives an account of her surprise at seeing these insects, before she was acquainted with the shining nature of them.

"The Indians," she says, once brought me a number of these lantern flies, which I shut up in a large wooden box. In the night they made such a noise, that I awoke in a fright, not being able to guess from whence the noise came; as soon as I found that it came from the box, I opened it, but was still more alarmed when I saw a flame of fire come from it, and as many animals as came out, so many different flames appeared. When I found that it was the insects that caused the light, I recovered from my fright, and again collected them, much admiring their splendid appearance. The light of one of these insects is so bright, that a person may see to read a newspaper by it." The light given by this fly proceeds entirely from the hollow part or lantern, no other part being luminous. The lantern fly is sometimes three or four inches in length.

It is a different insect from what is called the fire-fly; this latter insect is to be seen in most of the warmer parts of America, and about the woods in the West Indies. These flies shine in the dark; their light proceeds chiefly from four parts; namely, from two spots behind the eyes, and one under each wing. But they can stop this light when they please. A person may, with great ease, read the smallest print by the light of one of these insects, holding it between the fingers, and moving it along the

lines, with the bright spots just above the letters; but if eight or ten of them be put into a phial, they will give light enough for a person to write by. It is said that the Indians travel in the night with these flies fixed to their feet and hands, and that they spin, weave, paint, and dance with them. The following is a part of a letter from a gentleman who himself saw what he describes :

"The birds which build the hanging nests are here numerous. At night each of their little habitations is lighted up as if to see company. The sagacious little bird fastens a bit of clay to the top of the nest, and then picks up a fire-fly, and sticks it on the clay to illuminate the dwelling, which consists of two rooms. Sometimes there are three or four fire flies, and their blaze of light in the little cell, dazzles the eyes of the bats, who often kill the young of these birds."-Monthly Visitor.

INFIDELITY.

THOU who scornest truth divine,
Say what joy, what hope is thine?
Is this world from sorrow free?
Is this world enough for thee?
No; for care corrodes thy heart.
Art thou willing to depart?
No; thy nature bids thee shrink
From the void abyss's brink.

Thou may'st laugh, in broad sunshine;
Scoff, when sparkles the red wine;
Thou must tremble, when deep night
Shuts the pageant from thy sight.
Morning comes, and thou blasphemest;
Yet another day thou deemest
Thine; but soon its light will wane;
Then thy warning comes again.
There's a morrow with no night-
Broad and blazing, endless light!
Should its dawn thy dreams o'ertake,
Better thou didst never wake!—Anon.

ON SLANDER AND DETRACTION.

THERE is one circumstance attending the sin of slander, which renders it peculiarly injurious; the difficulty of calculating the ill effects produced by it. When once you have uttered the words of slander, it is no longer in your power to stop their progress; they travel from one to another into general circulation. "Behold," says the apostle, "what a great fire a little spark kindleth!" How many are the griefs caused by false or exaggerated reports! The discords and quarrels in neighbourhoods may frequently be traced to this malignant source. The misrepresentations of detraction have even caused friends to arm themselves against one another, and murder has been the consequence. Many are the individuals who owe their ruin to the thoughtless and ill-natured discourse of their neighbours.

Figure to yourself that you may be the cause of any of these calamities and what must be your feelings of remorse! Many persons are the cause of them. Check then, early, your inclination to evil-speaking and slander, lest you may have to reproach yourself with the most bitter reflections on the misery you have caused.-Anon.

BURIAL OF THE YOUNG.

THERE was an open grave,—and many an eye
Look'd down upon it. Slow the sable hearse
Moved on, as if reluctantly it bare

The young, unwearied form to that cold couch,
Which age and sorrow render sweet to man—
There seem'd a sadness in the humid air,

Lifting the long grass from those verdant mounds
Where slumber multitudes.

There was a train

Of young, fair females, with their brows of blocm,
And shining tresses. Arm in arm they came,
And stood upon the brink of that dark pit
In pensive beauty, waiting the approach
Of their companion. She was wont to fly

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