Nor military tactics taught our country's hope-the youthTheir seminaries changed into the schools of peaceful truth. The father take his son no more, to see the proud arrayThe gorgeous pageantry and show, the glitter and display, Where war's manevres are gone through with pomp and lustful pride, Pouring into the tender mind the bitter, poisoned tide. The mother then no more allow her boy with mimic cap, The unfledged soldier scarcely yet escaped his parents, lap, With baby drum, and wooden sword, and tiny fife beside,But teaches him that "better part," which shall in peace abide. Hail, glorious dawn of happy hour, when Peace shall hold her sway O'er all the earth, and bring at last the joyous welcome day, When wars and tumults all shall cease-the gladsome hour we'll greet, When all mankind shall sing the song of Peace at Jesus' feet. Then let us come and crown our Queen, with joy, and hope, and love, That we may in her sunlight live on earth and heaven above, And give her full dominion o'er the passions of the soul, For thou art worthy, blessed PEACE, to hold the world's control. JUSTITIA. Worcester, America. DEAFNESS. DR. KITTO, the learned Editor of the "Pictorial Bible," the "Cyclopædia of Biblical Literature," &c., is afflicted with entire deafness. The following is his own account of the manner in which he lost his hearing: "One day my father and another man, attended by myself, were engaged in new slating the roof of a house, the ladder ascending to which was fixed in a small court paved with flag stones. The access to this court from the street was by a paved passage, through which ran a gutter, whereby waste water was conducted from the yard into the street. In one of the apartments of the house in which we were at work, a young sailor, of whom I had some knowledge, had died after a lingering illness, which had been attended with circumstances which the doctors could not well understand. It was, therefore, concluded that the body should be opened to ascertain the cause of death. I knew this was to be done, but not the time appointed for the operation. But on passing from the street into the yard, with a load of slates which I was to take to the house top, my attention was drawn to a stream of blood, or rather, I suppose, bloody water, flowing through the gutter by which the passage was traversed. The idea that this was the blood of the dead youth, whom I had so lately seen alive, and that the doctors were then at work cutting him up and groping at his inside, made me shudder, and gave what I should now call a shock to my nerves, although I was very innocent of all knowledge about nerves at that time. I cannot but think it was owing to this that I lost much of the presence of mind and collectedness so important to me at that moment; for when I had ascended to the top of the ladder, and was in the critical act of stepping from it on to the roof, I lost my footing, and fell backward, from a height of about thirty-five feet, into the paved court below. Of what followed I know nothing: and as this is the record of my own sensations, I can here report nothing but that which I myself know. For one moment indeed, I awoke from that death-like state, and then found that my father, attended by a crowd of people, was bearing me homeward in his arms; but I had then no recollection of what had happened, and at once relapsed into a state of unconsciousness. In this state I remained for a fortnight, as I afterwards learned. I was very slow in learning that my hearing was entirely gone. The unusual stillness of all things was grateful to me in my utter exhaustion; and if in this half-awakened state, a thought of the matter entered my mind, I ascribed it to the unusual care and success of my friends in preserving silence around me. I saw them talking indeed to one another, and thought that, out of regard to my feeble condition, they spoke in whispers, because I heard them not. The truth was revealed to me in consequence of my solicitude about the book which had so much interested me in the day of my fall. It had, it seems, been reclaimed by the good old man who had sent it to me, and who doubtless concluded, that I should have no more need of books in this life. He was wrong; for there has been nothing in this life which I have needed more. I asked for this book with much earnestness, and was answered by signs which I could not comprehend. 'Why do you not speak?' I cried; 'Pray let me have the book.' This seemed to create some confusion; and at length some one, more clever than the rest, hit upon the happy expedient of writing upon a slate, that the book had been reclaimed by the owner, and that I could not in my weak state be allowed to read. 'But,' I said in great astonishment, 'Why do you write to me, why not speak? Speak, speak.' Those who stood around the bed exchanged significant looks of concern, and the writer soon displayed upon his slate the awful words-'YOU ARE DEAF."" Respecting the day on which he became deaf, Dr. K. remarks-"The circumstances of that day-the last of twelve years of hearing, and the first of twentyeight years of deafness, have left a more distinct impression upon my mind than those of any previous, or almost any subsequent, day of my life. It was a day to be remembered. The last day on which we do the things we have done daily is alway a marked day in the calendar of life; how much, therefore, must the mind not linger in the memories of a day which was the last of many blessed things, and in which one stroke of action and suffering,-one moment of time, wrought a greater change of condition, than any sudden loss of wealth or honours ever made in the state of man. Wealth may be recovered, and new honours won, or happiness may be secured without them; but there is no recovery, no adequate compensation, for such a loss as was on that day sustained. The wealth of sweet and pleasurable sounds with which the Almighty has filled the world,-of sounds modulated by affection, sympathy, and earnestness,―can be appreciated only by one who has so long been thus poor indeed in the want of them, and who for so many weary years has sat in utter silence amid the busy hum of populous cities, the music of the woods and mountains, and, more than all, of the voices sweeter than music, which are in the winter season heard around the domestic hearth." HYMN FOR THE MORNING. BY CHARLES WESLEY. FATHER, I wake thy love to praise, I laid me down in peace, and rise Because he bought me with his blood, Into thy favour take, And still be merciful and good, To me, for Jesus' sake. THE OLD COBBLER AND HIS SCHOOL. A GENTLEMAN gives the following pleasing account of a kind-hearted old man in Portsmouth, who obtained a livelihood by shoe-mending, or as some people would call it "cobbling." We extract his remarks from Chambers' : One day, in passing along the streets of London, I was arrested by a crowd at a print-shop window. It is perhaps not altogether "respectable" to be seen forming one of such assemblages; but every man has his failings, and one of mine is, to take a peep at any very nice-looking prints which the sellers of these articles considerately put in their windows for the public amusement. On the present occasion, in taking a survey of the printseller's wares, I was much interested in observing a print which differed considerably from anything else in the window. It was the representation of an old cobbler sitting professionally |