all trades should be carried on in the basest of all manners, is quite proper, and as it should be. But how any man who has the least self-respect, the least regard for his own personal dignity, can condescend to persecute the public with this rag-fair importunity, we do not understand.

12. Extreme poverty" may, indeed, in some degree, be an excuse for employing these shifts, as it may be an excuse for stealing a leg of mutton. But we really think that a man of spirit and delicacy would quite as soon satisfy his wants in the one way as in the other.

MACAULAY.

LXXII. — HYMN OF THE HEBREW MAID.

1. WHEN Israël,EI of the Lord beloved,
Out from the land of bondage came,
Her fathers' God before her moved,
An awful guide, in smoke and flame.
By day, along the astonished lands,
The cloudy pillar glided slow;
By night, Arabia's crimsoned sands
Returned the fiery column's glow.

2. Then rose the choral hymn of praise,

And trump and timbrel 91 answered keen;
And Zion's daughters poured their lays,
With priest's and warrior's voice between.
No portents now our foes amaze,

Forsaken Israel wanders lone:
Our fathers would not know Thy ways,
And Thou hast left them to their own.

3. But,

present still, though now unseen !
When brightly shines the prosperous day,
Be thoughts of Thee a cloudy screen
To temper the deceitful ray.
And, O! when stoops on Judah's EI path,
In shade and storm the frequent night,
Be Thou, long-suffering, slow to wrath,
A burning and a shining light!

4. Our harps we left by Babel's EI streams,
The tyrant's jest, the Gentile's EL scorn;
No censer round our altar beams,

And mute are timbrel, harp, and horn;
But Thou hast said, The blood of goat,
The flesh of rams, I will not prize:
A contrite heart, a humble thought,
Are mine accepted sacrifice.

SCOTT.

1. LOUD let the Brave Man's praises swell
As organ blast, or clang of bell ! EI
Of lofty soul and spirit strong,

He asks not gold, he asks but song!
Then glory to God, by whose gift I raise
The tribute of song to the Brave Man's praise!

2. The thaw-wind came from the southern sea,
Dewy and dark o'er Italy;

The scattered clouds fled far aloof,

As flies the flock before the wolf;

It swept o'er the plain, and it strewed the wood,
And it burst the ice-bands on river and flood.

3. The snow-drifts melt, till the mountain calls,
With the voice of a thousand water-falls;
The waters are over both field and dell, -
Still doth the land-flood wax and swell;
And high roll its billows, as in their track
They hurry the ice-crags, a floating wrack.I

4. On pillars stout, and arches wide,
A bridge of granite stems the tide;
And midway o'er the foaming flood,
Upon the bridge the tōll-house stood;
There dwelleth the toll-man, with babes and wife;
O, toll-man! O, toll-man! quick! flee for thy life!

5. Near and more near the wild waves urge;
Loud howls the wind, loud roars the surge;
The toll-man sprang on the roof in fright,

And he gazed on the waves in their gathering might: "All-merciful God! to our sins be good!

We are lost! we are lost! The flood! the flood!"

6. High rolled the waves! In headlong track
Hither and thither dashed the wrack! EI
On either bank uprose the flood;

Scarce on their base the arches stood!
The toll-man, trembling for house and life,
Out-screams the storm with his babes and wife.

7. High heaves the flood-wreck,— block on block,
The sturdy pillars feel the shock;
On either arch the surges break,

On either side the arches shake:

They totter! they sink 'neath the whelming wave!
All-merciful Heaven, have pity and save!

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8. Upon the river's further strand
A trembling crowd of gazers stand;
In wild despair their hands they wring,
Yet none may aid or succor bring;

And the hapless toll-man, with babes and wife,
Is screaming for help through the stormy strife.

9. When shall the Brave Man's praises swell
As organ blast or clang of bell?.

Ah! name him now, he tarries long;
Name him at last, my glorious song!

O speed, for the terrible death draws near;
O, Brave Man! O, Brave Man! arise, appear!

10. Quick gallops up, with headlong speed,
A noble Count on noble steed!
And, lo! on high his fingers hold

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A purse well stored with shining gold. "Two hundred pistoles' EI for the man who shall save Yon perishing wretch from the yawning wave!"

11. Who is the Brave Man, say, my song:
Shall to the Count thy meed belong?

Though, Heaven be praised, right brave he be,
I know a braver still than he;

O, Brave Man! O, Brave Man! arise, appear!
O, speed, for the terrible death draws near!

12. And ever higher swell the waves,

And louder still the storm-wind raves,
And lower sink their hearts in fear,-
O, Brave Man! Brave Man! haste, appear!
Buttress and pillar, they groan and strain,
And the rocking arches are rent in twain!

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13. Again, again before their eyes,

High holds the Count the glittering prize;
All see, but all the danger shun,

Of all the thousand stirs not one.

And the toll-man in vain, through the tumult wild, Out-screams the tempest with wife and child.

14. But who amid the crowd is seen,

In peasant garb, with simple mien,
Firm, leaning on a trusty stave,

In form and feature tall and grave?

He hears the Count, and the scream of fear;
He sees that the moment of death draws near!

15. Into a skiff he boldly sprang;

He braved the storm that round him rang;

16. The river round him boiled and surged;
Thrice through the waves his skiff he urged,
And back through wind and waters' roar,
He bore them safely to the shore :

So fierce rolled the river, that scarce the last
In the fisher's skiff through the danger passed.

17. Who is the Brave Man? Say, my song,
To whom shall that high name belong?
Bravely the peasant ventured in,

But 'twas, perchance, the prize to win.
If the generous Count had proffered no gold,
The peasant, methinks, had not been so bold.

18. Out spake the Count, "Right boldly done!
Here, take thy purse; 'twas nobly won."
A generous act, in truth, was this,
And truly the Count right noble is;
But loftier still was the soul displayed
By him in the peasant-garb arrayed.

19. "Poor though I be, thy hand withhold;
I barter not my life for gold!

Yon hapless man is ruined now;

Great Count, on him thy gift bestow."
He spake from his heart in his honest pride,
And he turned on his heel and strōde aside.

20. Then loudly let his praises swell
As organ blast or clang of bell;
Of lofty soul and spirit strong,
He asks not gold, he asks but song!

So glory to God, by whose gift I raise

The tribute of song to the Brave Man's praise!

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1. JOHN HENDERSON was born at Limerick, in Ireland, but came to England early in life with his parents. From the age of three years he discovered the pres ́ages of a great mind. Without retracing the steps of his progression, a general ideä may be formed of them from the circumstance of his having professionally

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taught Greek and Latin in a public seminary at the age of twelve years. Some time after, his father commencing a boardingschool in the neighborhood of Bristol, young Henderson undertook to teach the classics; which he did with much reputation, extending, at the same time, his own knowledge in the sciences and general literature to a degree that rendered him a prodigy of intelligence.

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2. At the age of eighteen, by an intensity of application of which few persons can conceive, he had not only thoughtfully perused all the popular English authors of a later date, but taken an extensive survey of foreign literature. He had also waded through the folios of the Schoolmen,' as well as scrutinized, with the minūtest attention, into the more obsolete writers of the last three centuries; preserving, at the same time, a distinguishing sense of their respective merits, particular sentiments, and characteristic traits; which, on proper occasions, he com'mented upon in a manner that astonished the learnëd31 listener, not more by his profound remarks than by his cool and sententious eloquence.

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3. So surprisingly retentive was his memory, that he never forgot what he had once learned, nor did it appear that he ever suffered even an image to be effaced from his mind; whilst the ideas which he had so rapidly accumulated existed in his brain, not as a huge chaos, but as clear and well-organized systems, illustrative of every subject, and subservient to every call. was this quality which made him so superior a dis'putant; for, as his mind had investigated the various sentiments and hypotheses EL of men, so had his almost intuitive discrimination stripped them of their deceptive appendages, and separated fallacies from truth, marshalling their arguments so as to elucidate or detect each other.

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4. But, in all his disputations, it was an invariable maxim with him never to interrupt the most tedious or confused oppo'nents, though, from his pithy questions, he made it evident that, from the first, he anticipated the train and consequences of their reasonings. His favorite studies were, Philology, History,' Astronomy, Medicine, Theology, Logic, and Metaphysics,** with all the branches of Natural and Experimental Philosophy; and that his attainments were not superficial will be readily admitted by those who knew him best. As a linguist,1 he was acquainted with the Persian, Arabic, Hebrew, Greek, and Latin languages, together with the French, Spanish, Italian, and German; and he not only knew their ruling principles and predominant distinctions, so as to read them with facility, but in the greater part conversed fluently.