High tho' his titles, proud his name-
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite (2) those titles, power, and pelf, (3)
The wretch concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown, (4)
And doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonour'd and unsung!

WALTER SCOTT.

(2) Despite-in spite of.-(3) Pelf-money,-possessions. (4) Renown-fame, repute.

To be fond of the country we are born and live in, is not only natural but right. But in loving our own blessed land, we should never depreciate, or undervalue other countries, for God has given to all parts of the world suitable and distinct gifts.

And oh! where'er your days be past,
And oh howe'er your lot be cast,
Still think on Him whose eye surveys,
Whose hand is over all your ways.

CRABBE.

At all times, and under all circumstances, we can have access to God by prayer. Prayer is not only a duty, but a privilege, and we should never fail to pray to our Heavenly Father morning and evening. In prosperity or in adversity, the act of praying will purify our thoughts, enlarge our conceptions of the great God, better fit us for our daily labours, and prepare us for that blessed region 'where the souls of good men dwell.'

We are told that the "effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much;" we ought therefore never to forget our dear relatives and friends in our prayers.

THE RAINBOW.

How glorious is thy girdle cast
O'er mountain, tower, and town,
Or mirror'd 1 in the ocean vast-
A thousand fathoms down!

As fresh in yon horizon dark,
As young thy beauties seem,
As when the Eagle from the ark
First sported in thy beam.

For faithful to its sacred page,
Heaven still rebuilds thy span,

Nor lets the type grow pale with age,
That first spoke peace to man.

(1) Mirror'd-reflected.

CAMPBELL.

The cause of this beautiful phenomenon is to be found in the fact that the light of the sun is composed of three colours,―red, yellow and blue. In passing through the drops of rain, these colours are divided, and bent more or less from the usual straight direction of the sun's rays. The Rainbow was appointed by God as the sign of the covenant of mercy, made with Noah, and with all mankind after the flood.-see Genesis, 9 chap. v. 11 to 16.

GELERT.

The spearman heard the bugle sound,
And cheerly smiled the morn,
And many a brach, and many a hound,
Attend Llewellyn's horn.

And still he blew a louder blast,
And gave a louder cheer;
"Come Gelert! why art thou the last
Llewellyn's horn to hear?

Oh, where does faithful Gelert roam ?
The flower of all his race!

So true, so brave, a lamb at home-
A lion in the chase!"

That day Llewellyn little loved

The chase of hart or hare,

And scant and small the booty proved;
For Gelert was not there.

Unpleased, Llewellyn homeward hied,
When near the portal seat,
His truant Gelert he espied,
Bounding his lord to greet.

But when he gain'd the castle door,
Aghast the chieftain stood;

The hound was smear'd with gouts of gore-
His lips and fangs ran blood!

Llewellyn gazed with wild surprise,
Unused such looks to meet;

His favourite check'd his joyful guise,
And crouch'd and lick'd his feet.

Onward in haste Llewellyn pass'd
(And on went Gelert too,)
And still where'er his eyes were cast,
Fresh blood-gouts shock'd his view!

O'erturn'd his infant's bed he found,
The blood-stain'd cover rent,
And all around the walls and ground
With recent blood besprent.

He call'd his child-no voice replied;
He search'd-with terror wild;
Blood! blood! he found on every side,
But nowhere found the child!

"Hell-hound! by thee my child's devoured!"

The frantic father cried,

And to the hilt his vengeful sword
He plunged in Gelert's side!

His suppliant, as to earth he fell,
No pity could impart;
But still his Gelert's dying yell
Passed heavy o'er his heart.

Aroused by Gelert's dying yell,

Some slumberer waken'd nigh; What words the parent's joy can tell, To hear his infant cry!

Conceal'd beneath a mangled heap,

His hurried search had miss'd,

All glowing from his rosy sleep,
His cherub boy he kissed!

Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread-
But the same couch beneath,
Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead-

Tremendous still in death!

Ah! what was then Llewellyn's pain,
For now the truth was clear;

The gallant hound the wolf had slain,

To save Llewellyn's heir.

Vain, vain was all Llewellyn's woe,-
"Best of thy kind, adieu!

The frantic deed which laid thee low,
This heart shall ever rue!"

And now a gallant tomb they raise,
With costly sculpture deck'd;
And marbles storied with his praise,
Poor Gelert's bones protect.

Here never could the spearman pass,
Or forester, unmoved;

Here oft the tear-besprinkled grass,

Llewellyn's sorrow proved.