on the leg of one chair, and seated myself firmly on another-unfortunately the chair I had occupied when Mrs. Scripp had been overcome-determined to pull on that boot or perish. With rigid muscles and extended leg, I threw my concentrated strength into the act and flung myself back. The chair gave way.
Ceiling, floor, and furniture turned suddenly topsy-turvy, like a flash of lightning. I heard a wild and awful crash, as of falling steel, the first object that met my eyes was my boots elevated into the air, the back of my head being amongst the fire-irons in an upturned fender. ---All this took place just as the door opened, and Mrs. Scripp, her niece, and somebody else, came into the room.
All was eventually explained: I was really a relative—but a very distant one. The niece of Mrs. Scripp, the young lady who had been the innocent cause of all my misfortunes, had been married in India, and had returned some months before, leaving her husband to follow her. He had been expected on the day and at the very hour on which I made my memorable visit; but-really-the facts have affected me so much in thus attempting to relate them that-pardon me-excuse me-I can say no more. Walter Baynham.
(175.) THE SCOTTISH SACRAMENTAL SABBATH. James Hislop, poet, b. 1798, d. 1827. A self-educated man, at first a herd-boy, then a teacher at Greenock, for some time reporter on the Times. Whilst accompanying some young gentlemen abroad as private tutor he died. The following poem, of which we give the larger part, is said to have been suggested by the commemoration of the solemn ordinance in Sanquhar church-yard, 1815.
The Sabbath morning gilds the eastern hills,
The swains its sunny dawn wi' gladness greet,
Frae heath-clad hamlets, 'mong the muirland rills,
The dewy mountains climb wi' naked feet,
Skiffin' the daisies droukit i' the weet;
The bleatin' flocks come nibblin' doun the brae,
To shadowy pastures screen'd frae summer's heat;
In woods where tinklin' waters glide away,
'Mong holms o' clover red, and bright brown ryegrass hay.
His ewes and lambs brought carefu' frae the height,
The shepherd's children watch them frae the corn;
On green sward scented lawn, wi' gowans white,
Frae page o' pocket psalm-book, soil'd and torn,
The task prepar'd, assign'd for Sabbath morn,
The elder bairns their parents join in prayer;
One daughter dear, beneath the flow'ry thorn,
Kneels down apart her spirit to prepare,
On this her first approach the sacred cup to share.
The social chat wi' solemn converse mix'd,
At early hour they finish their repast,
The pious sire repeats full many a text
Of sacramental Sabbaths long gone past.
To see her little family featly dress'd
The carefu' matron feels a mother's pride,
Gie's this a linen shirt, gie's that a vest;
The frugal father's frowns their finery chide,
He prays that Heaven their souls may wedding robes provide.
The sisters buskit, seek the garden walk,
To gather flowers, or watch the warning bell,
Sweet-william, danglin' dewy frae the stalk,
Is mix'd wi' mountain-daisies, rich in smell,
Green sweet-briar sprigs, and daisies frae the dell,
Where Spango shepherds pass the lane abode,
An' Wanlock miners cross the muirland fell;
Then down the sunny winding muirland road,
The little pastoral band approached the house of God.
The sound of psalms has vanish'd in the air,
Borne up to heaven upon the mountain breeze,
The patriarchal priest wi' silvery hair,
In tent erected 'neath the fresh green trees,
Spreads forth the Book of God with holy pride, and sees
The eyes of circling thousands on him fix'd,
The kirkyard scarce contains the mingling mass
Of kindred congregations round him mix'd;
Close seated on the gravestones and the grass,
Some crowd the garden-walls, a wealthier class,
On chairs and benches round the tent draw near;
The poor man prays far distant; and alas!
Some seated by the graves of parents dear,
Among the fresh green flow'rs let fall a silent tear
Sublime the text he chooseth: "Who is this
From Edom comes? in garments dy'd in blood,
Travelling in greatness of His strength to bless,
Treading the wine-press of Almighty God."
Perchance the theme, that Mighty One who rode
Forth leader of the armies cloth'd in light,
Around whose fiery forehead rainbows glow'd,
Beneath whose head heav'n trembled, angels bright
Their shining ranks arrang'd around his head of white.
Behold the contrast, Christ, the King of kings,
A houseless wanderer in a world below;
Faint, fasting by the desert springs,
From youth a man of mourning and of woe,
The birds have nests on summer's blooming bough,
The foxes on the mountain find a bed;
But mankind's Friend found every man his foe,
His heart with anguish in the garden bled,
He, peaceful like a lamb, was to the slaughter led.
The action-sermon ended, tables fenc’d,
While elders forth the sacred symbols bring,
The day's more solemn service now commenc'd;
To heaven is wafted on devotion's wing,
The psalms these entering to the altar sing,
"I'll of salvation take the cup, I'll call
With trembling on the name of Zion's King;
His courts I'll enter, at His footstool fall,
And pay my early vows before His people all."
Behold the crowded tables clad in white,
Extending far above the flowery graves;
A blessing on the bread and wine-cup bright
With lifted hands the holy pastor craves,
The summer's sunny breeze his white hair waves,
His soul is with his Saviour in the skies;
The hallow'd loaf he breaks, and gives
The symbols to the elders seated nigh,
Take, eat the bread of life, sent down from heaven on high.
He in like manner also lifted up
The flagon fill'd with consecrated wine,
Drink, drink ye all of it, salvation's cup, Memorial mournful of His love divine.”
Then solemn pauseth; save the rustling pine,
Or plane-tree boughs, no sounds salute mine ears;
In silence pass'd, the silver vessels shine,
Devotion's Sabbath dreams from bygone years
Return'd, till many an eye is moist with springing tears.
Again the preacher breaks the solemn pause,
"Lift up your eyes to Calvary's mountain-see,
In mourning veil'd, the mid-day sun withdraws,
While dies the Saviour bleeding on the tree;
But hark! the stars again sing jubilee,
With anthems heaven's armies hail their King,
Ascend in glory from the grave set free;
Triumphant see Him soar on seraph's wing,
To meet His angel hosts around the clouds of spring.
"Behold His radiant robes of fleecy light,
Melt into sunny ether soft and blue;
Then in this gloomy world of tears and night,
Behold the table He hath spread for you.
What though you tread affliction's path—a few,
A few short years your toils will all be o'er,
From Pisgah's top the promis'd country view;
The happy land beyond Immanuel's shore,
Where Eden's blissful bower blooms green for evermore.
"Come here, ye houseless wanderers, soothe your grief,
While faith presents your Father's loved abode;
And here, ye friendless mourners, find relief,
And dry your tears in drawing near to God;
The poor may here lay down oppression's load,
The rich forget his crosses and his care;
Youth enter on religion's narrow road,
The old for his eternal change prepare,
And whosoever will, life's water freely share."
(176.) THE DAY IS DONE.
The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me,
That my soul cannot resist :
A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.
Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.
For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life's endless toil and endeavour;
And to-night I long for rest.
Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer.
Or tears from the eyelids start;
Who, through long days of labour,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.
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