ABSENCE strengtheneth friendship, where the last recollections were kindly;

But it must be good wine at the last, or absence shall weaken it

daily.

A rare thing is faith, and friendship is a marvel among men,

Yet strange faces call they friends, and say they believe when they doubt.

Those hours are not lost that are spent in cementing affection,
For a friend is above gold, precious as the stores of the mind.

Be sparing of advice by words, but teach thy lesson by example;
For the vanity of man may be wounded, and retort unkindly upon

thee.

There be some that never had a friend, because they were gross and

selfish:

Worldliness, and apathy, and pride, leave not many that are worthy; But one who meriteth esteem need never lack a friend;

For as thistledown flieth abroad, and casteth its anchor in the soil, So philanthropy yearneth for a heart where it may take root and

blossom.

YET I hear the child of sensibility moaning at the wintry cold, Wherein the mists of selfishness have wrapped the society of men; He grieveth, and hath deep reasons; for falsehood hath wronged

his trust,

And the breaches in his bleeding heart have been filled with the briers of suspicion.

For alas! how few be friends, of whom charity hath hoped well! How few there be among men who forget themselves for other! Each one seeketh his own, and looketh on his brethren as rivals, Masking envy with friendship, to serve his secret ends.

And the world, that corrupteth all good, hath wronged that sacred

name,

For it calleth any man friend, who is not known for an enemy;
And such be as the flies of summer, while plenty sitteth at thy

board;

But who can wonder at their flight from the cold denials of want? Such be as vultures round a carcass, assembled together for the feast:

But a sudden noise scareth them, and forthwith are they specks among the clouds.

There be few, O child of sensibility, who deserve to have thy confi

dence;

Yet weep not, for there are some, and such some live for thee:
To them is the chilling world a drear and barren scene,

And gladly seek they such as thou art, for seldom find they the

occasion.

For, though no man excludeth himself from the high capability of friendship,

Yet verily is the man a marvel whom truth can write a friend.

OF LOVE.

THERE is a fragrant blossom, that maketh glad the garden of the heart;

Its root lieth deep: it is delicate, yet lasting, as the lilac crocus of

autumn:

Loneliness and thought are the dews that water it morn and even; Memory and Absence cherish it, as the balmy breathings of the

south:

Its sun is the brightness of affection, and it bloometh in the borders

of Hope;

Its companions are gentle flowers, and the brier withereth by its

side.

I saw it budding in beauty; I felt the magic of its smile;

The violet rejoiced beneath it, the rose stooped down and

kissed it;

And I thought some cherub had planted there a truant flower of Eden,

As a bird bringeth foreign seeds, that they may flourish in a kindly soil.

I saw and asked not its name; I knew no language was so wealthy, Though every heart of every clime findeth its echo within.

And yet what shall I say?
Hath a seducer known it?
Or he that seeketh strange

Is a sordid man capable of- Love? Can an adulterer perceive it ? women, can he feel its purity?

Or he that changeth often, can he know its truth?

Longing for another's happiness, yet often destroying its own;

Chaste, and looking up to God, as the fountain of tenderness and joy:

Quiet, yet flowing deep, as the Rhine among rivers;

Lasting, and knowing not change-it walketh with Truth and Sincerity

LOVE:- what a volume in a word, an ocean in a tear,
A seventh heaven in a glance, a whirlwind in a sigh,
The lightning in a touch, a millennium in a moment,
What concentrated joy or woe in blest or blighted love!
For it is that native poetry springing up indigenous to Mind,
The heart's own country music thrilling all its chords,
The story without an end that angels throng to hear,

The word, the king of words, carved on Jehovah's heart!
O! call thou snake-eyed malice mercy, call envy honest praise,
Count selfish craft for wisdom, and coward treachery for prudence,
Do homage to blaspheming unbelief as to bold and free philosophy,
And estimate the recklessness of license as the right attribute of

liberty,

But with the world, thou friend and scholar, stain not this pure

name;

Nor suffer the majesty of Love to be likened to the meanness of

desire :

For Love is no more such, than seraphs' hymns are discord,
And such is no more Love, than Ætna's breath is summer.

LOVE is a sweet idolatry, enslaving all the soul,

A mighty spiritual force, warring with the dulness of matter,

An angel-mind breathed into a mortal, though fallen, yet how beautiful!

All the devotion of the heart in all its depth and grandeur.

Behold that pale geranium, pent within the cottage window;

How yearningly it stretcheth to the light its sickly, long-stalked

leaves !

How it straineth upward to the sun, coveting his sweet influences!
How real a living sacrifice to the god of all its worship!

Such is the soul that loveth; and so the rose-tree of affection
Bendeth its every leaf to look on those dear eyes,

Its every blushing petal basketh in their light,

And all its gladness, all its life, is hanging on their love.

IF the love of the heart is blighted, it buddeth not again;
If that pleasant song is forgotten, it is to be learnt no more:
Yet often will thought look back, and weep over early affection;
And the dim notes of that pleasant song will be heard as a re-

proachful spirit,

Moaning in Eolian strains over the desert of the heart,

Where the hot siroccos of the world have withered its one oasis.

OF MARRIAGE.

SEEK a good wife of thy God, for she is the best gift of his providence;

Yet ask not in bold confidence that which he hath not promised. Thou knowest not his good-will:- be thy prayer then submissive

thereunto;

And leave thy petition to his mercy, assured that he will deal well with thee.

If thou art to have a wife of thy youth, she is now living on the earth;

Therefore think of her, and pray for her weal; yea, though thou hast not seen her.

They that love early become like-minded, and the tempter toucheth

them not;

They grow up leaning on each other, as the olive and the vine. -Youth longeth for a kindred spirit, and yearneth for a heart that can commune with his own;

He meditateth night and day, doting on the image of his fancy. Take heed that what charmeth thee is real, nor springeth of thine own imagination;

And suffer not trifles to win thy love; for a wife is thine unto death. The harp and the voice may thrill thee, sound may enchant thine

ear,

But consider thou, the hand will wither, and the sweet notes turn to

discord;

The eye, so brilliant at even, may be red with sorrow in the morning; And the sylph-like form of elegance must writhe in the crampings of pain.

O HAPPY lot, and hallowed, even as the joy of angels,

Where the golden chain of godliness is entwined with the roses of love;

But beware thou seem not to be holy, to win favor in the eyes of a

creature,

For the guilt of the hypocrite is deadly, and winneth thee wrath elsewhere.

The idol of thy heart is as thou, a probationary sojourner on earth; Therefore be chary of her soul, for that is the jewel in her casket. Let her be a child of God, that she bring with her a blessing to thy house,

A blessing above riches, and leading contentment in its train;
Let her be an heir of heaven: so shall she help thee on thy way;
For those who are one in faith, fight double-handed against evil.
Take heed lest she love thee before God; that she be not an idolater:
Yet see thou that she love thee well; for her heart is the heart of

woman;

And the triple nature of humanity must be bound by a triple chain, For soul, and mind, and body—godliness, esteem, and affection.

How beautiful is modesty! it winneth upon all beholders:

But a word or a glance may destroy the pure love that should have been for thee.

Affect not to despise beauty; no one is freed from its dominion: But regard it not a pearl of price:-it is fleeting as the bow in the

clouds.

If the character within be gentle, it often hath its index in the

countenance:

The soft smile of a loving face is better than splendor that fadeth

quickly.

When thou choosest a wife, think not only of thyself,

But of those God may give thee of her, that they reproach thee not

for their being:

See that he hath given her health, lest thou lose her early and

weep;