SAMUEL.

"Of such is the kingdom of heaven."

THE Hebrew temple is in dust,

The open

vision pass'd away:

-Where is the grateful mother's trust? Where holy childhood's guiding ray?

Oh! there's a nobler temple now,

Where all the nations join in prayer; Sweet peace is on the mother's brow, Who consecrates her offspring there!

And infant innocence has heard
The call of God within his soul;
-He starts from sleep to take the word,
And flies to childhood's nearest goal;

A father's and a mother's love,

Are listening to his soul's first cry ;— He has not learn'd to look above

"Ye call'd," he says, "and here am I!"

"We call'd thee not, thou precious child!

For we the call of death have heard: Go, rest again, thou undefiled!

"T is not for us to give the Word."

He sleeps again, again he wakes;
The voice is louder now than erst,
Through childhood's bounds the spirit breaks,
And wakens Nature with the burst;-

The glow, the melody of morn,

The laughing sunshine's noontide beam, The harmonies at evening born,

All have a life and soul for him.

"Thou call'dst," he said, "and here am I,
And my full heart I give to thee!"
-But Nature withers in the eye
That beams of immortality.

Again he sinks to rest secure;

For love, and confidence, and truth

Dwell in the bosom of the pure:

Oh! what shall break the trust of youth!

But still the voice of God is heard:
He wakes to question life anew,
To listen for the guiding Word,—
-And lo! the Virtues rise to view:

The Heroic deed, the Patient sigh,
And Hope that finds a life in death,
And Faith with rapture-beaming eye,
And Love that needs not human breath:

They come; they wake his soul to flame ;--

He springs to meet them with his heart;— "Oh tell, bright visions, whence ye came ?" "From God," they whisper-and depart!

Lo! childhood, on its bended knee,
In the vast temple of the Lord,

That stretches over land and sea;

66

Speak, for thy servant hears thy word!"

THE YOUTH OF MADAME ROLAND.

WHEN this wonderful woman, who was a martyr of the French Revolution, was young, she was wilful; but full of curiosity, lively and tender. Of her wilfulness we have one little story, which also displays a great difference of character in her father and mother. One day, being a little indisposed, it was thought proper to give her medicine. As it was very disagreeable, she rejected it when it was offered to her. Her mother tried to overcome her repugnance by persuasion, but her father, finding out what was going on, thought it was the effect of obstinacy, and applied the rod. The little Manon at first had not been obstinate, but merely had wanted resolution to swallow the disagreeable medicine. But after she had been whipped, she grew very angry, and struggled against it, till her father whipped her again. The second whipping produced another passion. She uttered the loudest shrieks, and attempted to throw

from her the bitter potion. Her father, in a very great passion himself, threatened to whip her again. She immediately ceased to cry, and gaining fortitude from a sense of oppression, turned from him her head, offered herself to be whipped, and, as she said afterwards, if her father had killed her on the spot she would not have shed another tear. Madame Phlipon, who was dreadfully distressed at this scene, at last succeeded in persuading her husband to leave the room, and without saying a single word, undressed her refractory daughter, put her to bed, and left her. In about two hours she returned, and with eyes full of tears, took up the medicine and begged her daughter to take it. Manon looked earnestly in her mother's face, made a great effort, and swallowed the medicine at a draught.

Manon was six years old at this time. Her mother had had the most complete control over her from the time she first came home from nursing, which was at two years old. The severest punishment of her faults she had ever