..:_j,, hoary.

A i - . ' , TALK WITH TIME, AT CLosuvc or THE YEAR.

BY MRS. LYDIA H. SXGOURNEY.

Trim; Old Time, with the forelockgray, ‘While the year in its dotage is passing away,

Come sit by my hearth, era the embers tail,

Arid hangthy scythe on yon-empty nail,

And tell me a tale, ’neath this wmtry sky,

Oftlie deeds thou hast done, as its months swept by.

h I have cradled the babe, in the church-yard wide,

From the husband‘ arms I have taken the bride,

l have clover: apath through the Ocean‘s floor,

Where many have sunk. to relurn'no more, v have humbled the strong, with their dauntless breast,

And laid the old on his staff to rest.

"-I have loosened the stone on the ruin’s height, ~ Where theicurtaining ivy was rank and bright,

I have startled the maid on her couch ofdown,

‘ ith avsprinkle of white ’mid her tresses brown, I have rent from his idols the proud man’s hold, And scattered the board ofthe iniser‘s gold”,

“ Is this all? Are thy chronicles traced alone

In the riven heart and the burial stone 9” r

“ No. Love's young chain I have twine-d with flowers, Have awakened the song: in the ruse—('t'tiwi‘tcd bowers, Have reared the trophy'for wealth and fame,

And paved the road for. the cars offlanie.

yr.‘

“Look to the child—it hath learned from me

i. The word‘that it lisps at the mother’s knee; Look to the sage—who from me hatli caught The kindling fires ofliis lieavenward thought; Look to the saint-who hath nnarcr trod Toward the angel-host at the throne of God.

“I have planted seeds in the soul that hear

The fruits of Heaven in a world ofcaie;

I have breathed on the tear till its orb grew bright As the diamond drops in the fields oflight;

Ask of thy heart, hath it e’er confest _A germ so pure, or a tear so blest.”

The clock struck twelve, from the steeple gray, And seizing his hour-glass, he strode away, Buthis hand, at parting, I feared to clasp, For I saw the scythe in its earnest grasp, And read in the glance of his upward eye,

24 His secret league with Eternity.

‘ l

i LOVE UNCIIANGING. ’Andl‘isitjust or kind, my mother, ‘ To break my heart to soothe your own ’ And would you give me to another . , Than him I line, and love alone? *[ Shall lbe false to every feeling, To every plighted word untrue— And’ with poor smiles my thoughts concealing, Bestow this wedded heart anew?

I never‘loved but once—no, never! m .And when a heart like mine is given, It. fondly loves, and loves forever, Unchangiiig as the truth of Heaven. Before the sacred marriage altar, With Him nlone, hand linked in hand, Sustained by truth that cannot falter, Dear mother, will your daughter stand!

Then deem not that such love will perish, "' r By any change, or time, or chance— ' For I can never cease to cherish The thoughts you vainly call “ romance.” Ubdimmed will grow my true devotion, H I _Now rendered to his dearest name—5- v " ‘Unl'aded bloom each sweet emotion, ' Through life, through life—the same, the some.

«

if THE FISHERMAN.

It was is calm an evening as ever came from Heaven, -——tlie skyfand the earth were as tranquil as if no storm from the one had ever disturbed the repose of the other; andveven the ocean—that great highway of the world— la} is gentle as ifits bosom had never betrayed,—as if no traveller had ever sunk to death in its embrace. The sun had gone down, and the pensive twilight would have reigned orer nature, but for the moon which rose in full orbed beauty, the queen of an illimitable world, totsmile upon these goodly things of ours, and to give a radiance and a glory to' all she shone open. It was an hour and ascene that led the soul to the contempla- tion oinm ,who never ceases to watch over the works belies made, and whose protecting care displays ,itself aliké‘bpo'n‘ the solid land and the tracklcss waste of the ,dfieitfiil sea.

Onlthe western coast ofthe county of Devon, which hitsbben termed, and it may be added,justly, “the gar- den of England,” upon such an evening, a group had asspmbled around one of the fisliei-inen’s cottages. The: habitation was built in the style of ihc‘olden time, when comfort.\vas the principal object of the projector. At either side of the door were scattered the lines and nets and baskets that bctokened the call of the owner, and the fisherman was taking his farewell for the night of his happy, loving family, who were bidding him 3‘ God speed on his voyage.” A fine old man was leaning his arms on the railing, and talking to an interesting girl whose hand lay upon the shoulder ofa younger sister. The stout fisherman, dressed in his rough je'rkin, and large boots that reached for above the knees, was in the act of kissing a little cherub, who seemed half terrified at being elevated as high as his father’s legs; while the wife and mother, with the infant uursliug,r on her lap, was looking anxiously upon her husband as she breathed the parting blessing and prayed for his safe return. A little boy, the miniature of his father in countenance and dress, bearing a huge boat cloak across his shoul- dersjpand thelantern to give light when the moon de- parted, completed the group—if we except a noble New- foundlsnd dog, some steps in advance of the party, watching for the nod to command his march to a kind of pier where the fisherman and his boy were to embark. “ Good luck, good luck!” exclaimed the old man,“ good luck and safe home again, John; ye want no more but God’l blessing, and that ye may have for asking ; but ye may as well take mine too. God bless ye, and good by to ye.”

The blessing was heartily echoed by his kind partner and his children, and whistling as he went with his boat-hook on his shoulder, his dog Neptune before, and his boy following. trudged along the beach.

\Vith the earliest dawn of morning the fisherman’s family were astir: the elder girl waslbusily engaged ar- ranging their little parlour, while the younger was pre- paring the breakfast table, and the mother spreading be-

' fore the fire the clothes ofher husband and her boy. An

hour passed, and she grew somewhat uneasy that he re- mained abroad beyond the usual period of his return. Another hour'had elapsed, when she said to her father, “ Father, go out to the hillock, and try if you can see his sail upon the water; he seldom stays out so loan when the weather is fair and the sea calm; my littl: boy was not quite well last night, and this alone should have hastened/him home.” , ' , ‘

The old man went furth, and one by one his grands

children followed him, until the mother Was left illone,, rocking the cradle of her unconscious babe.

lapse of another hour. her diiughter entered with news thtit a neighbour had spoken to her father in the night, and that he would certainly be home soon. , h

"‘ God grant it!” said'she, and’she spoke in 'a tone of deep anxiety—“ he never was away so long but once, and that was when he saved the crew of the ship Mary; and then the whirl of the sinking vessel well nigh made his grave.” .

Again she stirred the fire, again arranged the clothes before it, and poured some hot water into the tea cups. Still the breakfast remained untouched.

The sun was nowsoaring to his meridian height, and when once more the family assembled in their humble dwelling, the prop of the whole was yet wanting. They sat down to a cheerless meal, the seats at either Side of the wife remaining“ vacant. The old man was the only person who appeared to anticipate the evil ; but he has- tilv finishedhis breakfast and went forth. '

ll‘he morn was rapidly passing, and the sun had al- ready givcn tokens of the glory of his departure. wit?" the fisherinaii’s wife, having lulled her infant to sleep, went to the hill that commanded an extbusive view 0| tlic wide-spread ocean. All the little household soon assembled on the spot, but no boat was seen on the waters—nothing that could give‘liope swept the aspect of the waves, which looked too placid to be danEP-m‘lfi-

Their deep dread was no longer in be concealed; and while the old man paced to and fro, looking earnest- ly at bricfiutcrvals over the lonely sea, the mother and daughter were sobbing audilily. ‘

“Fearless let him be whose trust is in his God!” ex- claimed tlie father. The sentence was uttered llll‘oltlll~ tarily, but ithad its effect. . _ I

“ Ay, ay,”s.’iid the mother, “ he always trusted in his God, and God, will not forsake him now."

“ Do you remember, Jane," continued the old man, “ how often Providoncr: was with me amid the storm and the wreck, when help from man was far off, and would have been useless if near I” And they cheered and'cn- couraged one another to hope for the best—to submit to the decree of heaven, whether it came as the gentle dew to nourish, or as the heavy rain to oppress. From that billock, which overlooked the ocean, ascended the min— gled prayers that God wbuld not leave them desolate. _.

The fisherman—the object of their hopes and fears— liad been Very successful during the night, and at dav-break, as he was preparing to return home, here- meinhered his promise to bring with him some sea-weed to manure the potato plat behind his cottage. He was then close to the rocks, which were only discernable at low water; and pulling for them, jumped on shore, fas- tened the painter of his boat to a jutting part of the cliff, and took his boat-hook with. him.

He collected a sufficient quantity of weed, but in his eagerness to obtain it, had‘ wandered from the landing place, when he heard his boy loudly ballooiug and ex- claiining that the painter was loose. He rUShcd instant lv towards the boat, which was then semral yurdspff, the boy was vainly endeavouring to use both the ours, and Neptune, the faithful dog, was running backward and forward, and howling; most fearfully, as if conscious of his master’s danger—zit one moment about to plunge into the waves and join him, and the next licking the hands and face of the child, as iflic saw that for him his protection would be inoth needed.

The fisherman perceived at once the desperate nature of his situation; the tide he knew was coming in rapid- ly, and his hope of escape was at an end, when be per- ceived that his boy, in his effort to use the oars, had let one oftliein fall overboard. “ Father, father,” exclaim- ed the poor lad, “ what shall I do ’l”—the boat was at this time so far distant that his distracted parent could scarcely hear the words, but he called out to him as loud as he could to trust in God, the father of the fatber~ less. He then stood resigned to the fate which awaited him, and watched the drilled boat in peril from the fatal rocks. He had offered up a brief prayer to the throne of mercy, when in an instant, a light broke upon his

mind. “Great God l” he exclaiiiiod, “I may yet be saved.” With the energy of hope battling with despair,

he collected all the stones around him, and heaped them rapidly upon the highest ledge ofrocks~it was ill- deed wonderful how he could have gathered so many in so short a time, but the Almighty gave strength to his firm, and he was labouring not for life merely, but for beings still dearer to him. The tide came on, on, on, and stiou obligi‘d hint to quit his work. ll_e their llt()lilii.v ed the pile he had heaped, placed the boat-hook firmly in one ofthe crevices of the cliff, and prepare-d to strug- fi)r existence; but his heart failed him, whom he considered how slight was the possibility that llie water would no, ribe above his lurutl. Still, he ilelcriiiined to do all he could to preserve life. The waves were not rough, and the boat book supported him. The awful moment tapidly approached ; the water reached his knees; but he stood firmly, and prayed that be mith be preserved. ()n,on, on it came, slowly and gently, but more fearfully than ifit had rogcd around its destined prey; soon it reached his waist, and he prayed that it might go no higher. On, on, on it came, and his shoul- ders were covered ; hope died within him, and he [linuqu of-liimsclfiio longer, but of those who were so dear-t0 him—his wife, his children, and his fathers—it was for blessings on them that he implored heaven. Still on, on, on it came, and he was forced to raise his head to keep as long as possible from death; his reason was al- most goueyliis breath grew feeble, his limbs chilled; he paiited, and,.his prayers became almost gurgling murmurs. The blood rushed in his head, his eye-lulls glaied as .ifthey would start from their sockets. He closed them with an effort, and thought for the last tiiue on the h‘uine that would soon be wretched! florrible images were before him; each swell ofthe waves seein- ed as ifihe fiends were forcing him downward, and the cry ofthe seabird was like their yells over their victim. He was gasping, choking, for he had no strength to keep his head above the water; every‘momeut it Was splashing upon him, and each convulsive start that fol- lowed only aroused lilin lo the consciousness, if cou- scmusness it could be called, that the next plunge would be his last.

Merciful powersl—at‘the very moment when the strength and spirit ofinan had left him, and the cold shudder of death had come on, he felt that the tide rose no higher. His eyes opened, and a fearful lauirh troub-l led'the waters! They eddied'in his throatfand the bubbles floated around his lips—'b’nt they r0se no hioher —that he knew—again and again his bosom 'heii’ved.’

‘might not be forever vacant. Tdie water'sdn. a short time subsided, and he was enabled to stre‘tch'his chilled ,

limbs, and their to warm them .by- exercise. Soon the rock was‘ leit'drytas- 'before,‘ and“ the fisherman.“ knelt down upon' that desolate spot among: the billowe—h'rd

his face in his hands, and praised and-blessed his Gretta "

tor—his Preserver. _ Oh! it was the well-known bark of his faithful dog

he. had heard above the waves; in another moment the. ,

creature was licking his pale cheek. He was saved—'-

he was saved : for his'own'boat had touched the shore. '

and his own boy was in his arms! He had been lrificd‘ to the, land. and had easily found those who had rowed hard'for the chance of saving his father's life.

‘ Now lioineward, hoineward !" he‘exoloimed,

Homeward, homeward echoed the child, and Neptune,

jumped and barked at the: welmme sound.

The fi~heriiiaii’s family was still supplicatingPi-ovi- 3

deuce, upon the hilldrk that overlookodtlie deep, 'wh‘eu ibe old man started from-his knees, and exclaimed, ‘ We are heard! there is a speck uponthe distant waters.’

‘ Where, ‘whem!’ was echoed by the group, end'he' pointed out what he had hoped to he the absent boat. They eagerly strained their, eyes, butsaw nothing; in a few moments, however, all perceived a sail; still it was impossible to tell the direction in which itsconrserlay.

Then was the agony ofsuspense; it‘continu’ed‘, howi- r=vcr, but for a short time; a boat was evidently advanc. ing toward the shore; in a few minutes they could clear- lv perceive a man at the bow waving, his but above his

head; and soon after the well known bark of Neptune .

was borne to them by the breeze. The family rushed to, the extremity of the rude pier, and the loud huzza of the fisherman was answered by the “ welcome, welcome," of his father, and almost in‘articulate “thank God” of his: wife.

And now all was Joy and happiness in the cottage where there had been so much wmtcliedness, the fisher.- man, hissboy, and his dog, \vere safe from the perils of the‘greii't deep: but he would return no answer. to ques- tions, as to what had detained him so long beyond the usual period ofliis return. “ Wait, my wife,” said he, ," iliitil,,tye haVe dressed and refreshed ourselves. and vou

shall klnbw all; but before we do either. let us bless God

for his mercy, for out of great danger hath be preserved me.” ' _ Never was there a more Sincere or more earnest

prayer offered up to the Giver of all goodness than'

ascended‘from that humble dwelling. And when the fisherman had told his tale, how fervently did they all repeat the words that had given them, so much consola- tion in the morning,

“ FParless ‘let him' be whose trust is in his God."— People’s Advocate.

Tun BATTLE OF BORODINO.—“ Before daybreak," savs Labanme, a French officer, “ the two armies were drawn up in order of battle. and 260,000 men waited, in awful suspense, the signal to engage. At six o’clock, the thunder of artillery br \k@ the dreadful silence. The battle soon became general, and raged with tremendous fury. The fire of 200 pieces of cannon enveloped both armies in smoke, and, mowing down whole battal- ions, strewed the field with the dead and the Wounded. The latter fell to expose themselves to a death still more terrible, and to accumulated sufferings. Howagonizing was tlieirsituation! Forty thousand dragoons, crossing the field in every direction, trampled them under foot, and dyed the horses" boots in their blood! The flying artillery, in rapid, alternate advance and retreat put a pe- riod to the anguish of some, and inflicted new torinents on others who were mangled by their wheels A re- doubt in the centre of the Russian army was several times taken and retaken, but finally remained in the possession ofthe French. The interior of the redoubt presented a frightful scene; the dead were heaped on each other, and amongst them were many wounded whose cries could not be heard. Night alone separa.

,w'i1l efl‘octually produce t‘nutl "Morel/air, (including \V’Hisxnns,:htg.'_

ted the combatants, and lefiou that memorable field no less than 80,000 men sacrificed on the shrine of mad ainbitition! As we passed over the ground which the Russians liud occupied, we were able tirjudge ofthe im- meuse loss 'they had sustained. \ In the space of nine square miles, almost every spot was covered with the killed and the wounded! In many places, the bursting ofthe shells bad proiniscuously heaped together "IF" and horses. The fire ofour liowitzors hail been so des- tructive, that mountains of dear! bodies were scattered over the plain; for the few places that. were not encum- bered with tho slain, were covered with broken lauces, u‘iusltets, helmets, and cuirrasses‘, or with grape-shot and bullets as thick as bail-stones after a \‘li)l(‘.ll[ storm. But the most horrid spectacle was the inlericrof the ravines. Almost all the wounded who \"l‘lu able to drag themselves along, and taken refuge there to avoid the shot. These miserable wretches, lMHpm’l (me upon another, and almost suffocated with blood, filtering the most drrrulful grrlans, and invoking deal/t with most piercing cries, eagerly besouglit us to put an end to their [ormpnts I” Let uslook at that field, after the lapse of two months, as descrime by the same eye-witness. The most horrible sight was the multitude of dead bodies which had been fifty~ti00dups unburied, and scarcely retained the human form ! My consternation was at its height on finding near llorodino, the 80,000 men who had been slaughtered tltere,'lyiii,_g,st~ where they fell ! Car- casses of men and horses—of the latter alone there were more than 25,000 killed—covered the plain, intermin- gled with garments dyed in blood, with bones gnawed by dogs and birds of prey, and with the fragments of arms, drums, helmets and cuirasses. a. As we were marching over the field of battle, we heard at a distance a pitiable object who demanded our assistance. Touched by his plaintive cries, many ofthe soldiers drew nigh~ the spot, and, to their great astonishment, found a French soldier stretched on the ground with both his legs broken. ‘I was wounded,’ said he, ‘ in the great battle and finding myself in a 10ner place, where I could gain no assistance. I dragged myself to the brink of a rivalet, and have lived near two months on grass and roots, and

on some pieces of bread which [found among the dead ,

bodies. At night, Iliave lain in the carcasses of dead horses, and with the flesh of these animals, have dressed my wounds! Having heard you at a distance, 'I 'collect- ed all my strength, and have, advanced sufficiently near to make myselfheardfl’,’ Such is war—-wnr, .not only in ancient times, but in the nineteenth century; war,

with a deep ‘“b. and he drew m ms brealhi and gaveinot llltH'Ply among pagansaud savages, but among men

it forth in agony. A minute had pissed since the salt. sea IOUCht’d his- lips; this was impossible if the tidel still flowed—lie could reason so much. He opened his eyes, and faiu‘tly murmured forth-“ 0, God be inerci-l fill." The flow ofthe ocean had indeed ceased; there i he stood motionless but praying and weeping, thinls-

be,

calling themselves ,civilizcd and Christians l—Is such it custom necessary to Cliristemlmn, to nations of reputed Christians! Will they allow it .to continue under the full blaze of the Gospel? How long Will realChristians, sincere folloWers of the Prince of Peace, lend it their countenance, or refuse their combined, vigorousefl'orts