ANTIPHONANT CHANTING.

St. Ambrose is considered as the first who introduced the antiphonant method of chanting, or one side of the choir alternately responding to the other; from whence that particular mode obtained the name of the “Ambrosian chant,” while the plain song, introduced by St. Gregory, still practised in the Romish service, is called the “Gregorian,” or “Romish chant.”  The works of St. Ambrose continue to be held in much respect, particularly the hymn of Te Deum, which he is said to have composed when he baptised St. Augustine, his celebrated convert.

    [1] Mems., Maxims, and Memoirs. By W. Wadd, Esq.

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THE NOVELIST

No.  CIX.

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“I HAVE DONE MY DUTY.”

A Tale of the Sea.[2]

              She would sit and weep
  At what a sailor suffers; fancy, too,
  Delusive most where warmest wishes are,
  Would oft anticipate his glad return.

COWPER.

“I dearly love a sailor!” exclaimed the beautiful and fascinating Mrs. D——­, as she stood in the balcony of her house, leaning upon the arm of her affectionate and indulgent husband, and gazing at a poor shattered tar who supplicated charity by a look that could hardly fail of interesting the generous sympathies of the heart—­“I dearly love a sailor; he is so truly the child of nature; and I never feel more disposed to shed tears, than when I see the hardy veteran who has sacrificed his youth, and even his limbs, in the service of his country—­

  “Cast abandoned on the world’s wide stage,
  And doomed in scanty poverty to roam.”

Look at yon poor remnant of the tempest, probably reduced to the hard necessity of becoming a wanderer, without a home to shelter him, or one kind commiserating smile to shed a ray of sunshine on the dreary winter of his life.  I can remember, when a child, I had an uncle who loved me very tenderly, and my attachment to him was almost that of a daughter; indeed he was the pride and admiration of our village; for every one esteemed him for his kind and cheerful disposition.  But untoward events cast a gloom upon his mind; he hastened away to sea, and we never saw him more.”

By this time the weather-beaten, care-worn seaman had advanced toward the house, and cast a wistful glance aloft; it was full of honest pride that disdained to beg, yet his appearance was so marked with every emblem of poverty and hunger, that, as the conflicting feelings worked within his breast, his countenance betrayed involuntarily the struggles of his heart.  There was a manly firmness in his deportment, that bespoke no ordinary mind; and a placid serenity in his eye, that beamed with benevolence, and seemed only to regret that he could no longer be a friend to the poor and destitute, or share his hard-earned