* * * * *

PRAYER.—­A FRAGMENT.

Prayer is an arrow wing’d with love, And urg’d by mercy on Which by “the arm of Faith” is driv’n Up through the starry vault of heav’n, And scales “the Eternal’s throne.”  On seraph’s wings the spirit flies, Ev’n in that arrow’s flight, Soars through its vista in the skies And gains the realms of light.

N.C.

* * * * *

BREVITIES.

Poverty will often lead to great intellectual pursuits; but the resources of fortune will frequently suppress the most cogent ideas.

Never subdue a feeling arising from principle; for the mockery of conscience will contend against the hostile powers of a nation.

Never wantonly offend any man however feeble his situation:  you know not how soon his personal interest may be acceptable.

In choosing a wife, a good disposition will be found the most staple commodity.  Most other virtues will flourish in so luxuriant a soil.

It should be the study of every individual to become rather a useful than a rich member of society.

Weak opponents are universally great calumniators.

To adduce an opinion without some argumentative reason to support it, shows great precipitancy of idea.  It is like raising a sumptuous pile for the mere gratification of witnessing its destruction.

It is not the enormity, but the certainty, of punishment that deters mankind from evil.  Hope will always gain the ascendancy.

Precept and example are great opposites.  The one is generally too extravagantly lavished:  the other abridges more personal comfort than most people like to sacrifice.

Few individuals are patriotic enough to participate in the correction of a public abuse, until the corruption produces personal inconvenience.

Flattery will ever, more or less, accompany the first overtures to friendship.  It may not be deemed impolitic if it be found to recede as the intimacy matures.

W.H.

* * * * *

RETROSPECTIVE GLEANINGS.

* * * * *

ROBIN HOOD.

  Lithe and lysten, gentylmen,
  That be of frebore blode,
  I shall you tell of a good yeman,
  His name was Robyn Hode.

Old Ballad.

Centuries have passed away, yet are the merry men of the cross-bow not forgotten.  The oft-told tale of blended theft and charity has run the round of ages, delighting the homely circle; historians and poets have found in them a theme suited to their energies, and sung the song of their exploits to everlasting remembrance.  It may be said that few subjects of yore can boast so bewitching an interest as the present:  for even now, after the lapse of six or seven hundred years, the names of Robin Hood and Little John are