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She upsprang, she rose upright! in his selle she sat in sight;

By her love she overcame.

And her head was on his breast, where she smiled as one at

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rest,

Ring," she cried, "O vesper bell, in the beech-wood's old chapelle !

But the passing bell rings best."

They have caught out at the rein, which Sir Guy threw loose in vain,

For the horse in stark despair, with his front hoofs poised in air,

On the last verge, rears amain.

And he hangs, he rocks between - and his nostrils curdle in,

And he shivers head and hoof, and the flakes of foam fall off;

And his face grows fierce and thin!

And a look of human woe, from his staring eyes did
And a sharp cry uttered he in a foretold agony
Of the headlong death below,

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And, "Ring, ring,-thou passing bell," still she cried, "i' the old chapelle !"

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Then back-toppling, crashing back-a dead weight flung out to wrack,

Horse and riders overfell!

Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang

west,

And I read this ancient Rhyme in the kirkyard while the chime

Slowly tolled for one at rest.

And beneath a willow tree, I a little grave did see,
Where was graved, "Here undefiled,

Lieth Maud, a three-year child,

Eighteen hundred forty-three.”

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did I say—ye who rode so fast that

day, —

Did star-wheels and angel-wings, with their holy winnowings,

Keep beside you all the way?

Though in passion ye would dash, with a blind and heavy crash,

Up against the thick-bossed shield of God's judgment in the

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Now ye lie as meek and mild (whereso laid) as Maud the child,

Whose small grave to-day was filled.

In your patience ye are strong; cold and heat ye take not

wrong:

When the trumpet of the angel blows eternity's evangel, Time will seem to you not long.

Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west,

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Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west,

And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed around our incompleteness,

Round our restlessness, His REST.

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The first end to which all wisdom or knowledge ought to be employed, is to illustrate the wisdom or goodness of the Father of Nature. Every science that is cultivated by men, leads naturally to religious thought, from the study of the plant that grows beneath our feet, to that of the Host of Heaven above us, who perform their stated revolutions in majestic silence, amid the expanse of infinity. When, in the youth of Moses, "the Lord appeared to him in Horeb," a voice was heard, saying, "Draw nigh hither, and put off thy shoes from off thy feet; for the place where thou standest is holy ground." It is with such a reverential awe that every great or elevated mind will approach to the study of nature, and with such feelings of adoration and gratitude, that he will receive the illumination that gradually opens upon his soul.

It is not the lifeless mass of matter, he will then feel, that he is examining, it is the mighty machine of Eternal Wisdom: the workmanship of Him, "in whom everything lives, and moves, and has its being." Under an aspect of this kind, it is impossible to pursue knowledge without mingling with it the most elevated sentiments of devotion; —it is impossible to perceive the laws of nature without perceiving, at the same time, the presence and the Providence of the Lawgiver; - and thus it is, that, in every age,

the evidences of religion have advanced with the progress of true philosophy; and that science, in erecting a monument to herself, has, at the same time, erected an altar to the Deity.

The second great end to which all knowledge ought to be employed, is the welfare of humanity. Every science is the foundation of some art beneficial to men; and while the study of it leads us to see the beneficence of the laws of nature, it calls upon us also to follow the great end of the Father of Nature in their employment and application. I need not say what a field is thus opened to the benevolence of knowledge; I need not tell you that in every department of learning there is good to be done to mankind; I need not remind you that the age in which we live has given us the noblest examples of this kind, and that science. now finds its highest glory in improving the condition, or in allaying the miseries of humanity. But there is one thing of which it is proper ever to remind you, because the modesty of knowledge often leads us to forget it, and that is that the power of scientific benevolence is far greater than that of all others, to the welfare of society.

The benevolence of the great, or the opulent, however eminent it may be, perishes with themselves. The benevolence even of sovereigns is limited to the narrow boundary of human life; and, not unfrequently, is succeeded by different and discordant counsels. But the benevolence of knowledge is of a kind as extensive as the race of man, and as permanent as the existence of society. He, in whatever situation he may be, who, in the study of science, has discovered a new means of alleviating pain, or of remedying disease; who has described a wiser method of preventing poverty, or of shielding misfortune; who has suggested additional means of increasing or improving the beneficent productions of nature, has left a memorial of himself which can never be forgotten; which will communicate happiness to ages yet unborn; and which, in the emphatic

language of Scripture, renders him a "fellow-worker" with God himself, in the improvement of his Création.

XII. THE LAST HOURS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. - Lockhart.

On the morning of Sunday, the 15th of July, he was again taken out into the little pleasaunce, and got as far as his favorite terrace-walk between the garden and the river, from which he seemed to survey the valley and the hills with much satisfaction. On reëntering the house he desired me to read to him from the New Testament, and after that he again called for a little of Crabbe; but whatever I selected from that poet seemed to be listened to as if it made part of some new volume published while he was in Italy. He attended with this sense of novelty even to the tale of Phoebe Dawson, which, not many months before, he could have repeated every line of, and which I chose for one of these readings, because, as is known to every one, it had formed the last solace of Mr. Fox's deathbed. On the contrary, his recollection of whatever I read from the Bible appeared to be lively; and in the afternoon when we made his grandson, a child of six years, repeat some of Dr. Watts's hymns by his chair, he seemed also to remember them perfectly. That evening he heard the church service, and when I was about to close the book, said, "Why do you omit the office for the Visitation of the Sick?" which I added accordingly.

.

On Monday he remained in bed and seemed extremely feeble; but after breakfast on Tuesday, the 17th, he appeared revived somewhat, and was again wheeled about on the turf. Presently he fell asleep in his chair, and after dozing for perhaps half an hour, started awake, and shaking the plaids we had put about him from off his shoulders, said, "This is sad idleness; I shall forget what I have been thinking of, if I don't set it down now. me into my own room, and fetch the keys of my desk." He repeated this so earnestly that we could not refuse; his

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