the severity of the weather, being extremely hardy. When loaded with fruit, it makes a most delightful appearance. There is another variety of this species of Service, that grows naturally in the south of France, in Italy, and in most of the southern countries of Europe, where its fruit is served up as a dessert.”—HUNTER. "The wood is soft, tough, and solid-excellent for hoops and for bows next to yew. It is converted into tables, spokes for wheels, shafts, chains, &c. The roots are formed into handles for knives and wooden spoons. The berries dried and reduced to powder, make wholesome bread, and an ardent spirit may be distilled from them, which has a fine flavour, but it is small in quantity. The berries too, infused in water, make an acid liquor something like Perry, which is drunk by the poorer people in Wales. This tree appears to have been highly esteemed by the Druids, and is still found more frequently than any other in the neighbourhood of Druidical circles in the Scotch Highlands. Dr. Pulteney informs us that even in these more enlightened times, the natives of the north believe in the efficacy of a small branch carried about them as a charm against witchcraft and enchantment. In one part of Scotland the sheep and lambs are on May Day made to pass through a hoop of Roan-wood." WITHERING. HYMNS AND POETICAL RECREATIONS. Come, for all things are now ready.-LUKE xiv. 17. My soul, and why art thou so sad, In moments that should seem so blest, Why stand thus gazing on the door, His canopy is o'er thy head His mantle is about thy breast What would'st thou more? The board is spread- What would I more? O pardon, Lord, That yet content I seat me not The angry storm is raging loud, And those I love are still without. Long have I looked upon that door And watched, and still, and still there's roomAnd many a guest has entered in— But still the loved ones do not come. Send forth thy messengers again Or ere they close that fatal gate; There yet is room-O bid them try If haply they may find them yet While others seat them at thy side, And sing their carols o'er thy feast, Here let me stand in suppliant guise, A grateful, but a mourning guest. And O forgive-again forgive! If bidden to honour so undue, I cannot sit me down in peace, "Till those I love are welcomed too. THE HARP. SAY, shall the harp so often heard Their hours of banishment Whose deep, and melancholy wires, As if they loved the song Say, shall the harp of poesy That sorrow loves so much, What joy? O such as Angels share The sun, so long, so darkly veil'd MY AIN FIRE-SIDE. O, I hae seen great anes, and been in great ha's, As the bonny blythe blink o' my ain fire-side, Oh, cheering's the blink o' my ain fire-side! Ance mair, Guid be thankit! by my ain heartsome ingle, Nae form to compel me to seem wae or glad, I may laugh when I'm merry, and sigh when I'm sad; ; When I draw in my stool on my cozie hearth-stane, Oh! there's nought to compare to my ain fire-side. Romans v. 2. COME, O my soul, and for a while retreat From this poor world, and raise thy thoughts on high: Come and bow down before Jehovah's feet, And lift to Him thy supplicating eye; And watch till thou his beaming glory see, Shine from between the cherubim on thee. |