fifty-three miles above New York city, where it passes through the "Highlands," the scenery is particularly grand and imposing. Independent of those attractions which nature has given to the Hudson, art has done much in giving life and beauty to the panorama. As might be expected, along its shores are seen the humble farmhouse, the retiring homestead, the palace of the merchant and the romantic home of the poet. Of the latter class of cottages, our frontispiece gives a graphic illustration of much of the scenery of the Hudson.

Such a home must favor the growth and emanation of soul stirring melodies, for which its occupant is so distinguished. He possesses to a great degree the happy faculty of producing sounds from his lyre, which while they charm the ear with melody, awaken the finer feelings of the soul. Morris has been styled the poet of home joys, and many of his effusions, have not only become national as it were, but are appreciated by the lovers of literature and the popular mind the world over. His "Woodman, spare that tree," has probably been translated into all the languages of Europe. This song was recited on one occasion, in the British House of Commons, * and the speaker seemed to take it for granted that every one of his hearers was acquainted with it, quoting the ballad in vindication of the Constitution, which the speaker held was jeopardized by the operation of certain measures then pending. The allusion found a response in the hearts of his listeners, and it was with difficulty that the speaker could preserve that order which the dignity of the house demanded.

As an accompaniment to the frontispiece, we present the ballad alluded to, feeling confident, that though it be an old familiar friend to most of our readers, it will be well received by all.

* Mr Cagly, a member of the British House of Commons, concluded a long speech in favor of protection, by quoting the ballad "Woodman, spare that tree." According to Mr. Cagly, the tree being the Constitution, and Sir Robert Peel the Woodman, about to cut it down." Vide London Times.

Enterprises having for their object the perpetuation of time honored institutions, and the dissemination of gospel truths are in our midst; whether we live in the crowded city, or have our homes in the valleys, or dwell upon the mountain side, these "sheltering trees" are within the range of our sympathy, and we should eagerly seek to share the joy which will ultimately result to those who now extend the hand of welcome thereto. A single arm extended in faith, may avert the blow which the axe of delay and neglect is sure to accomplish; reader, will you say in the words of the ballad, in view of timely action in your sphere of duty

"While I've a hand to save
Thy axe shall harm it not."
WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE.
Woodman, spare that tree,

Touch not a single bough,
In youth it sheltered me,

And I'll protect it now!
"Twas my forefather's hand
That placed it near his cot,
There, woodman, let it stand,
Thy axe shall harm it not.
That old familiar tree,

Whose glory and renown,
Are spread o'er land and sea,

And would'st thou hack it down?
Woodman, forbear thy stroke,
Cut not its earth-bound ties;
O spare that aged oak

Now towering to the skies.
When but an idle boy,

I sought its graceful shade;
In all their gushing joy,

Here too my sister played;
My mother kissed me here,

My father pressed my hand,
Forgive this foolish tear,

But let that old oak stand.
My heart-strings round thee cling,
Close at thy bark, old friend,
Here shall the wild birds sing,
And still thy branches bend.
Old tree, the storms still brave,
And woodman, leave the spot,
While I've a hand to save,

Thy axe shall harm it not.

Fulton and Livingston, in living capitals before the world; the latter dates from 1853, and endears the name of Erricson to every admirer of scientific mechanism. Little did those who saw the commencement of the era of steam navigation dream of the extent of its application to and the demands of commerce and society;

as little may the lookers on of to-day foresee the vastness of the project just initiated by the later discovery. The first experiment was attended with such impediments as ridicule and its kindred spirits engender, and yet it prospered, and he who received discouraging frowns from many, now ceives the adulations of the world.

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As it is with "things temporal" so it is with those who propose to make that grand spiritual reformation, which shall result in the possession of a mansion beyond the skies, upon the banks of the river of Life, and beneath the shadow of that tree, whose leaves neither wither nor fade. Self-esteem being the most sensitive nerve, if we may so speak, in the texture of humanity, is selected by Satan and his emissaries, as the citadel of attack. It is at this point he casts his most envenomed projectiles, failing in this field of his operations, he is hopelessly frustrated. Hence the object of his assault is not the novice only, but the tried and war-scarred soldier of the Cross. If the believer has descended in the vale of humility low enough to avert the blow, then he will soon rise to those heights of exaltation, where the raging of the heathen, and the imagination of the wicked shall never disturb his peace, but in patience shall possess his soul.

Watts, the sweet singer in Israel, had conflicts of this character; from the height of his exaltation, we now hear him say to his persecuted brethren on earth,

"Should earth against thy soul engage,
And hellish darts be hurled,
Cease not, but smile at Satan's rage,
And face a frowning world.

"Let cares like a wild deluge come,
And storms of sorrow fall;
Soon thou shalt safely reach thy home,
Thy God, thy heaven, thy all.

The idea is prevalent in some communities, that young men are unfit for generals or statesmen, and that they must be kept in the background until their physical strength is impaired by age, and their intellectual faculties become blunted by years. Let us look to the history of the past, and from the long list of heroes and statesmen who have nobly distinguished themselves, we will find that they were young men who performed those acts which have won for them an imperishable meed of fame, and placed their names high on the page of history. Alexander, the conqueror of the whole civilized world, viz: Greece, Egypt, and Asia, died at 33 years of age. Bonaparte was crowned Emperor of France when 33 years of age. Pitt, the younger brother, was about 20 years of age, when, in Britain's Parliament, he boldly advocated the cause of the American colonies; and but 22 when made Chancellor of the Exchequer. Edmund Burke, at the age of 25, was the First Lord of the Treasury. Our own Washington was but 25 when he covered the retreat of the British at Braddock's defeat, and was appointed Commander-in-Chief of all the Virginian forces. Alexander Hamilton, at 20, was a Lieutenant-Colonel and Aid to Washington; at 25, a member of Congress, and at 32 Secretary of the Treasury. Thomas Jefferson was but 23 when he drafted the ever memorable Declaration of Independence. At the age of 30 years, Sir Isaac Newton occupied the mechanical chair at Cambridge College, England, having by his scientific discoveries rendered his name immortal.

Life is more to be measured by well doing, than by number of years; seeing that some men by many days do but procure many deaths, and others in short space attain the life of infinite ages.

baths, wall gates, and the Palace of Sixty Beds, constructed by Agathocles, are the chief vestiges of antiquity. The middle. age citadel of Maniaces, barracks, a college, royal academy, museum of antiquities, and public library with numerous churches, may be chiefly noticed as belonging to the modern city. The noble harbor is admirably adapted for a commercial emporium, but its trade is now very limited.

THE ANGEL GUEST.

BY TENNYSON.

HOW pure in heart and sound in head,

With what divine affections bold,

Should be the man whose thoughts would hold An hour's communion with the dead.

In vain shalt thou, or any, call

The spirits from their golden day,
Except, like them, thou too, canst say,

My spirit is at peace with all.

They haunt the silence of the breast,
Imagination calm and fair,
The memory like a cloudless air,
The conscience as a sea at rest.

But when the heart is full of din,

And doubt beside the portal waits, They can but listen at the gates, And hear the household jar within.

PREPARATION FOR DEATH.-When you lie down at night, compose your spirits as if you were not to wake till the heavens be no more. And when you wake in the morning consider the new day as your last, and act accordingly. Surely that night cometh of which you shall never see the morning, or that day of which you shall never see the night; but which of your mornings and nights you know not. Let the mantle of worldly enjoyment hang loose about you, that it may be safely dropped when death comes to carry you into another world. When the fruit is ripe it falls off the tree easily. So when a Christian's heart is truly weaned from the world, he is prepared for death. A heart disengaged from the world is a heavenly one, and then we are ready for heaven, when our heart is there before

us.

THE SUNDAY MORNING'S DREAM.

Y first day of returning health, after

Mmany weeks of severe illness, was a

bright Sunday in June. I was well enough to sit at an open window in my easy chair, and as our house stood in a pleasant garden in the suburbs of London, the first roses of the year scented the soft breeze that fanned my pale cheek, and revived my languid frame. The bells of our parish church were just beginning their chimes, and the familiar sound awakened in me an intense longing to be with my family once more a worshipper in the house of God. I took up my Bible and Prayer Book, which had been placed ready on the table beside me, intending to begin to read when the hour of the eleven o'clock service should be announced by the ceasing of the bells; and, in the meantime, closed my eyes, and soothed my impatient wishes by picturing to myself the shady avenues of blossoming limes that led to our church, and the throngs that would now be entering it for the public worship of the day.

All at once I seemed to be walking in the beautiful church-yard, yet prevented from gratifying my eager wish to enter the church, by some irresistible though unseen hand. One by one the congregation, in their gay Sunday dresses passed me by, and went in where I vainly strove to follow. The parish children in two long and orderly trains defiled up the staircases into the galleries, and except a few stragglers hurrying in, as feeling themselves late, I was left alone.

Suddenly I was conscious of some awful presence, and felt myself addressed by a voice of most sweet solemnity in words to this effect: "Mortal, who by divine mercy hast just been permitted to return from the gates of the grave, pause before thou enterest God's holy house again; reflect how often thou hast profaned his solemn public worship by irreverence, or by inattention, which is in his sight irreverence: consider well the great privilege, the unspeakable benefit and blessing of united

the patience of thy long-suffering God, and tempt him forever to deprive thee of that which hitherto thou hast so little valued." Seeing me cast down my eyes and blush with conscious guilt, the gracious being continued in a milder tone, "I am one of those angels commissioned to gather the prayers of the saints, and form them into wreaths of odorous incense that they may rise to the throne of God. Enter thou with me, and thou shalt, for thy warning, be able to discern those among the devotions about to be offered which are acceptable to him, and to see how few in number, how weak, and unworthy they are."

As he ceased speaking, I found myself by the side of the angel still, but within the church, and so placed that I could distinctly see every part of the building.

"Observe," said the angel, "that those prayers which come from the heart, and which alone ascend on high, will seem to be uttered aloud. They will be more or less audible in proportion to their earnestness-when the thoughts wander, the sounds will grow faint, and even cease altogether."

This explained to me why the organist, though apparently playing with all his might, produced no sound, and why, presently after, when the service began, though the lips of many moved, and all appeared attentive, only a few faint murmurings were heard.

How strange and awful it was to note the sort of death-like silence that prevailed in whole pews, in which, as was thus evident, no heart was raised in gratitude to heaven. Even in the Te Deum and Jubilate, the voices sometimes sunk into total silence. After the Creed, there was a low murmuring of the versicles, and then distinct and clear above all other sounds, a sweet childish voice softly and reverently repeated the Lord's Prayer. I turned in the direction of the sound, and distinguished among the parish children a very little boy. His hands were clasped together as he knelt, his eyes were closed, his gentle

angel wrote on his tablets, the words that fell from those infant lips, his smile, like a sunbeam, illuminated the church for a moment, and I remembered the words of holy David, where he says-"Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings Thou has perfected praise."

Presently I was again reminded of a Scripture passage-the prayer of the publican. A wretched-looking man, who swept the crossing near the church, lounged into the centre aisle during the reading of the lessons, his occupation being for the hour suspended. The second lesson was the 24th chapter of St. Matthew, some verses attracted his attention: he listened with more and more seriousness, until at length he put his hand over his face and exclaimed aloud-" What will become of me at the day of judgment? Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner." That prayer was inserted on the angel's tablets. Oh, may it not stand alone, but be an awakening of better things. May God indeed have mercy on such poor neglected ones as he, and raise up some to teach them, and care for their immortal souls.

After this, growing accustomed to the broken murmurs and interrupted sounds, I

followed many a humble Christian through large portions of the Litany; though often, while I was listening with hopeful attention, a sudden and total pause showed but too plainly that the thoughts of the kneeling suppliant had wandered far away, and that he who had appeared so earnest in his devotions, had become languid and silent like the rest of the congregation.

"Thou art shocked at what thou hast observed," said the angel, "I will show thee greater abominations than these. God is strong and patient: he is provoked every day. Listen now, and thou shalt hear the thoughts of all these people; so shalt thou have some faint idea of the forbearance God continually exercises towards those who draw near to him with their lips, while their hearts are far from him.