WITHOUT THEE I AM ALL UNBLEST.

Afar from thee! 'Tis solitude,

Though smiling crowds around me be, The kind, the beautiful, the good— For I can only think of thee; Of thee, the kindest, loveliest, best, My earliest and my only one; Without thee, I am all unblest,

And wholly blest with thee alone.

Afar from thee! The words of praise
My listless ear unheeded greet;
What sweetest seem'd in better days,
Without thee seem'd no longer sweet;
The dearest joy fame can bestow

Is in thy moisten'd eye to see;
And in thy cheeks' unusual glow,

Thou deem'st me not unworthy thee.

Afar from thee! The night is come,

But slumbers from my pillow flee; I cannot rest so far from home,

And my heart's home is love with thee. I kneel before the throne of prayer,

And then I know that thou art nigh; For God, who seeth everywhere, Bends on us both His watchful eye.

Together, in His loved embrace,

No distance can our hearts divide; Forgotten quite the 'mediate space,

I kneel thy kneeling form beside; My tranquil frame then sinks to sleep, But soars the spirit far and free; Oh welcome be night's slumbers deep! For then, dear love! I am with thee.

Anon.

VARIOUS MOTIVES FOR MARRIAGE.

When we see the avaricious and crafty taking companions to their homes without any inquiry but after farms and money; or the giddy and thoughtless uniting themselves for life to those whom they have only seen by the light of tapers; when parents make articles for children without inquiring after their consent; when some marry for heirs to disappoint their brothers; and others throw themselves into the arms of those whom they do not love, because they have found themselves rejected where they were more solicitous to please; when some marry because their servants cheat them; some because they squander their own

money; some because their houses are pestered with company; some because they will live like other people; and some because they are sick of themselves, we are not so much inclined to wonder that marriage is sometimes unhappy, as that it appears so little loaded with calamity; and cannot but conclude, that society has something in itself eminently agreeable to human nature, when we find its pleasures so great, that even the ill choice of a companion can hardly overbalance them. Those, therefore, of the above description, that should rail against matrimony, should be informed, that they are neither to wonder, or repine, that a contract begun on such principles has ended in disappointment. Dr. Johnson.

THE BETROTHAL AND MARRIAGE OF ISAAC AND REBEKAH.

And he said, O Lord God of my master Abraham, I pray thee, send me good speed this day, and shew kindness unto my master Abraham. Behold, I stand here by the well of water; and the daughters of the men of the city come out to draw water: and let it come to pass, that the damsel to whom I shall say, Let down thy pitcher, I pray thee, that I may drink; and she shall say, Drink, and I will give thy camels drink also; let the same be she that thou hast appointed for thy servant Isaac; and thereby shall I know that thou hast shewed kindness unto my

master.

And it came to pass, before he had done speaking, that, behold, Rebekah came out, who was born to Bethuel, son of Milcah, the wife of Nahor, Abraham's brother, with her pitcher upon her shoulder. And the damsel was very fair to look upon, and she went down to the well, and filled her pitcher, and came up. And the servant ran to meet her, and said, Let me, I pray thee, drink a little water of thy pitcher. And she said, Drink, my lord and she hasted, and let down her pitcher upon her hand, and gave him drink. And when she had done giving him drink, she said, I will draw water for thy camels also, until they have done drinking. And she hasted, and emptied her pitcher into the trough, and ran again unto the well to draw water, and drew for all his camels. And the man wondering at her held his peace, to wit whether the LORD had made his journey prosperous or not. And it came to pass, as K K

the camels had done drinking, that the man took a golden earring of half a shekel weight, and two bracelets for her hands of ten shekels weight of gold; and said, Whose daughter art thou? tell me, I pray thee is there room in thy father's house for us to lodge in? And she said unto him, I am the daughter of Bethuel the son of Milcah, which she bare unto Nahor. She said moreover unto him, We have both straw and provender enough, and room to lodge in. And the man bowed down his head, and worshipped the LORD. And he said, Blessed be the LORD God of my master Abraham, who hath not left destitute my master of his mercy and his truth: I being in the way, the LORD led me to the house of my master's brethren. And the damsel ran, and told them of her mother's house these things.

And Rebekah had a brother, and his name was Laban: and Laban ran out unto the man, unto the well. And it came to pass, when he saw the earring, and bracelets upon his sister's hands, and when he heard the words of Rebekah his sister, saying, Thus spake the man unto me; that he came unto the man; and, behold, he stood by the camels at the well. And he said, Come in, thou blessed of the LORD; wherefore standest thou without? for I have prepared the house, and room for the camels.

And the man came into the house: and he ungirded his camels, and gave straw and provender for the camels, and water to wash his feet, and the men's feet that were with him. And there was set meat before him to eat but he said, I will not eat, until I have told mine errand. And he said, Speak on. And he said, I am Abraham's servant. And the LORD hath blessed my master greatly; and he is become great: and he hath given him flocks, and herds, and silver, and gold, and menservants, and maidservants, and camels, and asses. And Sarah my master's wife bare a son to my master when she was old and unto him hath he given all that he hath. And my master made me swear, saying, Thou shalt not take a wife to my son of the daughters of the Canaanites, in whose land I dwell: but thou shalt go unto my father's house, and to my kindred, and take a wife unto my son. And I said unto my master, Peradventure the woman will not follow me. And he said unto me, The LORD, before whom I walk, will send his angel with thee, and prosper thy way; and thou shalt

take a wife for my son of my kindred; and of my father's house: then shalt thou be clear from this my oath, when thou comest to my kindred; and if they give not thee one, thou shalt be clear from my oath. And I came this day unto the well, and said, O LORD God of my master Abraham, if now thou do prosper my way which I go: behold, I stand by the well of water; and it shall come to pass, that when the virgin cometh forth to draw water, and I say to her, Give me, I pray thee, a little water of thy pitcher to drink; and she say to me, Both drink thou, and I will also draw for thy camels: let the same be the woman whom the LORD hath appointed out for my master's son. And before I had done speaking in mine heart, behold, Rebekah came forth with her pitcher on her shoulder; and she went down unto the well, and drew water: and I said unto her, Let me drink, I pray thee. And she made haste, and let down her pitcher from her shoulder, and said, Drink, and I will give thy camels drink also: so I drank, and she made the camels drink also. And I asked her, and said, Whose daughter art thou? And she said, The daughter of Bethuel, Nahor's son, whom Milcah bare unto him and I put the earring upon her face, and the bracelets upon her hands. And I bowed down my head, and worshipped the LORD, and blessed the LORD God of my master Abraham, which had led me in the right way to take my master's brother's daughter unto his son. And now if ye will deal kindly and truly with my master, tell me: and if not, tell me; that I may turn to the right hand, or to the left. Then Laban and Bethuel answered and said, The thing proceedeth from the LORD: we cannot speak unto thee bad or good. Behold, Rebekah is before thee, take her, and go, and let her be thy master's son's wife, as the LORD hath spoken. And it came to pass, that, when Abraham's servant heard their words, he worshipped the LORD, bowing himself to the earth. And the servant brought forth jewels of silver, and jewels of gold, and raiment, and gave them to Rebekah: he gave also to her brother and to her mother precious things. And they did eat and drink, he and the men that were with him, and tarried all night; and they rose up in the morning, and he said, Send me away unto my master. And her brother and her mother said, Let the damsel abide with us a few days, at the

least ten; after that she shall go. And he said unto them, Hinder me not, seeing the LORD hath prospered my way; send me away that I may go to my master. And they said, We will call the damsel, and enquire at her mouth. And they called Rebekah, and said unto her, Wilt thou go with this man? And she said, I will go. And they sent away Rebekah their sister, and her nurse, and Abraham's servant, and his men. And they blessed Rebekah, and said unto her, Thou art our sister, be thou the mother of thousands of millions, and let thy seed possess the gate of those which hate them.

And Rebekah arose, and her damsels, and they rode upon the camels, and followed the man: and the servant took Rebekah, and went his way. And Isaac came from the way of the well Lahai-roi; for he dwelt in the south country. And Isaac went out to meditate in the field at the eventide; and he lifted up his eyes, and saw, and, behold, the camels were coming. And Rebekah lifted up her eyes, and when she saw Isaac, she lighted off the camel. For she had said unto the servant, What man is this that walketh in the field to meet us? And the servant had said, It is my master: therefore she took a vail, and covered herself. And the servant told Isaac all things that he had done. And Isaac brought her into his mother Sarah's tent, and took Rebekah, and she became his wife; and he loved her and Isaac was comforted after his mother's death.

Gen. xxiv. 12-67.

GIVEN AWAY.

They tell me, gentle lady, that they deck thee for a bride,

That the wreath is woven for thy hair, the bridegroom by thy side;

And I think I hear thy father's sigh, thy mother's calmer tone,

As they give thee to another's arms-their beautiful, their own.

I never saw a bridal but my eyelid hath been wet,

And it always seem'd to me as though a joyous crowd were met

To see the saddest sight of all, a gay and girlish thing,

Lay aside her maiden gladness-for a name --and for a ring.

BORN TO BLESS ME WITH THY LOVE.

Hence, every gloomy care away!
Hence, every secret fear!
With joy I see the approaching day
Which gives me all that's dear.

What though no jewels grace my bride
(She owes no charms to them),
Yet virtue in her bosom dwells—

There glows the brightest gem.
There white-robed innocence appears;
Fair peace in smiles array'd,
And sweet content in humble guise,
Adorn the lovely maid.

Oh! born to bless me with thy love,
My dear, my joy, my life—
Soon will those tender names unite
In that dear name of wife.
Thee meek-eyed gentleness adorns,
With modest virtue join'd,
Thy decent form and humble mien
Bespeak a spotless mind.

On these I build my hopes of peace,-
On these bright charms of thine:
How shall I bless that happy hour
That makes thee ever mine! Canning.

THE CHARM OF HER PRESENCE.

She was not as pretty as women I know: And yet all your best, made of sunshine and snow,

Drop to shade, melt to nought, in the longtrodden ways—

While she is remember'd on warm and cold days: My Kate.

Her air had a meaning, her movement a grace; You turn'd from the fairest to gaze in her face; And when you had once seen her forehead and mouth,

You saw as distinctly her soul and her truth. My Kate.

Such a blue inner light from her eyelids outbroke,

You look'd at her silence and fancied she spoke ;

When she did, so peculiar and soft was the tone, Though the loudest spoke also, you heard My Kate.

her alone:

I doubt if she said to you much that could act As a thought or suggestion: she did not attract,

In the sense of the brilliant and wise, I infer: 'Twas her thinking of others made you think of her : My Kate.

She never found fault with you-never implied Your wrong by her right: and yet men at her side

Grew nobler, girls purer, as through the whole town

The children were gladder that pull'd at her gown: My Kate.

None knelt at her feet as adorers in thrall: They knelt more to God than they used, that was all.

If you praised her as charming, some ask'd what you meant:

But the charm of her presence was felt where
she went :
My Kate.
Mrs. Browning.

THE JOY OF FORGIVING.
Come, let us now resolve at last,
To live and love in quiet :
We'll tie the knot so very fast,

That time shall ne'er untie it.
The truest joys they seldom prove
Who free from quarrels live;
'Tis the most tender part of love
Each other to forgive.

When least I seem'd concern'd, I took
No pleasure nor no rest :
And when I feign'd an angry look,
Alas! I loved you best.

Own but the same to me, you'll find
How blest will be our fate.
Oh, to be happy, to be kind,
Sure, never is too late.

Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham.

FOR LIFE AND FOR ETERNITY. Not for the summer hour alone,

When skies resplendent shine, And youth and pleasure fill the throne, Our hearts and hands we join; But for those stern and wintry days

Of peril, pain, and fear, When Heaven's wise discipline makes This earthly journey drear. Not for this span of life alone,

Which as a blast doth fly,
And, like the transient flowers of grass,
Just blossom, droop, and die;
But for a being without end,

This vow of love we take :
Grant us, O God! one home at last,
For our Redeemer's sake.
L. H. Sigourney.

DR. JOHNSON'S VIEWS ON MARRIAGE. The infelicities of marriage are not to be urged against its institution, as the miseries of life would prove equally that life cannot be the gift of Heaven.

Marriage has many pains, but celibacy has no pleasures.

Marriage is not commonly unhappy, but as life is unhappy, and most of those who complain of connubial miseries have as much satisfaction as their natures would have admitted, or their conduct procured, in any other condition.

Those who marry late in life will find it dangerous to suspend their fate upon each other, at a time when opinions are fixed, and habits are established; when friendships have been contracted on both sides; when life has been planned into method, and the mind has long enjoyed the contemplation of its own prospects. They will probably escape the encroachment of their children; but, in diminution of this advantage, they will be likely to leave them, ignorant and helpless, to a guardian's mercy; or if that should not happen, they must, at least, go out of the world before they see those whom they love best, either wise or great. From their children, if they have less to fear, they have also less to hope; and they lose, without equivalent, the joys of early love, and the convenience of uniting with manners pliant, and minds susceptible of new impressions.

A poet may praise many whom he would be afraid to marry, and, perhaps, marry one whom he would have been ashamed to praise. Many qualities contribute to domestic happiness, upon which poetry has no colours to bestow, and many airs and sallies may delight imagination which he who flatters them never can approve. There are charms made only for distant admiration-no spectacle is nobler than a blaze.

A certain dissimilitude of habitudes and sentiments, as leaves each some peculiar advantages, and affords that concordia discors, that suitable disagreement, is always necessary to happy marriages. Such reasonings, terminate generally in the same conclusion. Such thoughts, like rivulets issuing from distant springs, are each impregnated in its course with various mixtures, and tinged by infusions unknown to the other, yet at last easily unite into one stream, and purify themselves by the gentle effervescence of contrary qualities.

THE GIFT ALL-DIVINE.

O marriage powerful charm, gift all-divine, Sent from the skies, o'er life's drear waste to shine;

What splendours from thy bright tiara spring, What graces round thy chasten'd footsteps cling!

Vengeance will surely crush the idiot land, That drags the sceptre from thy hallow'd hand,

That dares to trample on thy holy rites,
And nuptial perfidy, unawed, invites.
The weeping world to thee its solace owes,
From thee derives its truest, best repose.
Not the cold compact subtle interest twines,
Not that which pale submission trembling
signs,

Is marriage! no! 'tis when its polish'd chain Binds those who in each other's bosom reign; 'Tis when two minds form one ecstatic whole, One sweetly blended with, one sense, one soul !

This was the gift the exiled seraph curst,
When from hell's blazing continent he burst;
Eden's full charms he saw, without a groan,
Though Nature there had fix'd her gorgeous
throne;

Its rich ananas, and its aloes high,
Whose forms pyramidal approach'd the sky;
Its towering palms with luscious clusters
crown'd;

Its shrubs, whose perfumes fill'd the region