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robbed; he has positively seen nothing; his landlady was a harpy, his bed-room was unhealthy, and the mutton was so tough that he could not get his teeth through it. Perhaps neither view is quite true; we shall be safest in the middle course; the view was passable, the landlady an ordinary landlady, and the mutton good English mutton—that is all. But oh, for the glorious spectacles worn by the good-natured man.-oh! for those wondrous glasses, finer than the Claude Lorraine glass, which throw a sunlit view over everything, and makes the heart glad with little things, and thankful for small mercies ! Such glasses had honest Izaak Walton, who, coming in from a fishing expedition on the river Lea, bursts out into such grateful talk as this :“Let us, as we walk home under the cool shade of this honeysuckle hedge, mention some of the thoughts and joys that have possessed my soul since we two met. And that our present happiness may appear the greater, and we more thankful for it, I beg you to consider with me, how many do at this very time lie under the torment of the gout or the toothache, and this we have been free from, and let me tell you, that every misery I miss is a new blessing."
(By permission of the Author.)
THE HOMEWARD BOUND.
Last Letter home of a Ship Surgeon.
“We come, we come; through the beaded foam
Thine only one in my sunburnt face.
And I shall partake your Christmas cheer. “Never hath home been so dear as now;
And.I lean at eve o'er the vessel's prow,
Fancy hath called from the shadow-land. "Mother, thy truant may love the sea,
Its dashing billows and breezes free;
That none save a mother's lip hath known. “ As flew the dove to the ark again,
Return I to thee o'er the trackless main ;More welcome thy wandering son will be, Preserved from the perils that walk the sea. I've learned the value of childhood's home, And nought shall tempt me again to roam.
“Tell Anne, my little chattering pet,
I bring her the promised paroquet.
As blithe and glad as when last we met? " I should grieve if Time, in passing, laid
On that open brow a darker shade,
Would make the pure-thoughted girl my own. “Rejoice, dear mother, at my success,
The love-gift of Fortune I possess;
Though Luxury's slaves might deem it scant. “Rememberest thou the boding fears
That drenched thy cheek with a flood of tears,
It hath thinned our crew but scathed not me.
Buoyant and fearless of future ill,
A TALE OF THE LAST DAYS OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE.
A. H. "For Thy Life is our Way; ... [made] by Thy example, and the footsteps of Thy saints, more bright and clear." De Imitatione Christi. On a beautiful morning in the Ides of May, A.D. 403, about three weeks after the battle of Pollentia, a monk might be seen traversing with hurried steps one of the principal streets of Rome. He appeared to be about thirty years of age, and his long, black, woollen robe fell in graceful folds around his tall and noble figure. His face was entirely colourless, but the features were perfect in their outline ; and his calm, pure brow spoke of the intellect and goodness within. He was proceeding with a quick step, and evidently lost in thought, when he was suddenly aroused by a friendly hand laid on his shoulder, and, looking up, he saw before him a young man in the dress of a Roman officer, whose whole appearance marked him as a patrician of the highest rank. The monk immediately recognised him as a son
of the great General Stilicho, who was now, from his valour and skill, become the chief support of the empire. The joy of this meeting was great to both, for Adrian had been the monk's earliest friend; and although the fortune of war had of late necessitated the frequent absence of the young soldier, the separation had not served to weaken their mutual affection.
After the first few moments had passed, and Adrian had found time to notice his friend's appearance, he felt considerable astonishment at his altered attire. “ What!” cried he,“ do I really see before me the young patrician Telemachus, in this disguise ! Surely, my friend, thou art not become a Christian monk ?"
“Even so, Adrian," replied the monk, a bright smile illuming his face; “him who was formerly the noble Telemachus, men now call the monk Stephanos; but though my name is changed, my heart still retains old friendships. How have I longed to see thee, Adrian! and often do I pray that we may be one in faith, as we are in heart."
“Not yet, Telemachus, or Stephanos, as I suppose I must learn to call you," laughingly replied Adrian ; “my father and sister are already Christians, and I daresay that I shall some day follow their example, for I must confess that my sister's arguments appear to contain a great deal of truth, whenever I have patience to listen to her ; but my time is not come yet: besides, the life of a Christian is not the one best fitted for a soldier.”
“Pardon me, dear Adrian," replied the monk, "every Christian is a soldier, as I hope you will one day know; but, tell me, have you seen your sister yet ?"
“I was going to the palace when I met you,' said Adrian, "for I have not seen her once since she has been empress; it must be a pleasant thing to be the only daughter of a great general, and to become an empress, must it not.?"
“ If one could always be sure of being so really happy · as your sister,” replied Stephanos, smiling; “but I am