페이지 이미지


Eliza Cook.

The poet or priest who told us thi3

Served mankind in the holiest way,
For it lit up the earth with the star of bliss

That beacons the soul with cheerful ray.
Too often we wander despairing and blind,

Breathing our useless murmurs aloud; But 'tis kinder to bid us seek and find

"A silver lining to every cloud."

May we not walk in the dingle ground

Vvhere nothing but autumn's dead leaves are seen, But search beneath them, and peeping around

Are the young spring tufts of blue and green. Tis a beautiful eye that ever perceives

The presence of Godinmortality's crowd; Tis a saving creed that thinks and believe*

"There's a silver lining to every cloud."

Let us look closely before we condemn

Bushes that bear nor bloom nor fruit, There may not be beauty in leaves or stem,

But virtue may dwell far down at the root; And let us beware how we utterly spurn

Brothers that seem all cold and proud, If their bosoms were opened, perchance we might learn

"There's a silver lining to every cloud."

Let us not cast out mercy and truth,

When guilt is before us in chains and shame. When passion and vice have cankered youth,

And age lives on with a branded name;
Something of good may still be there,

Though its voice may never be heard aloud,
For while black with the vapors of pestilent air, •

"There's a silver lining to every cloud."

8ad are the sorrows that oftentimes come,

Heavy and dull and blighting and chill, Shutting the light from our heart and our home,

Marring our hopes and defying our will; But let us not sink beneath the woe,

Tis well perchance we are tried and bowed, For be sure, though we may not oft see it below,

"There's a silver lining to every cloud."

And when stern Death, with skeleton hand,

Has snatched the flower that grew in our breast, Do we not think of a fairer land,

Where the lost are found, and the weary at rest I Oh, the hope of the unknown future springs

In its purest strength o'er the coffin and shroud! The shadow is dense, but faith's spirit-voice sings

"There's a silver lining to every cloud."


In a solitary house on Wandsworth Common, about the be ginning of the present century, lived a gentleman and his niece, their domestics consisting of a butler and two female servants. This gentleman possessed a great deal of valuable family plato, and having occasion to go from home, he gave the key of the strong closet in which it was kept to his niece, requesting that she would herself take charge of it. This she promised to do; and, having every reason to suppose that he was leaving his family under safe guardianship, her uncle set out on his intended journey.

A day or two afterward, the butler came to his mistress, saying that he thought it would be a good opportunity for him to clean this plate, as he knew his master was particular about its being nicely kept, and requesting that he might have the key of the closet for that purpose. Not supposing for a moment that he had any other motive in asking for the key, she was on the point of giving it to him, when something in the expression of the man's eye made her hesitate, and replacing the key in her pocket, she merely said that her uncle had left no orders to that effect, and she should, therefore, prefer its being left until his return. Surprised to find that the butler still persisted in his request, the young lady spoke still more decidedly, saying that she never interfered in her uncle's arrangements; and the discomfited butler went down stairs, leaving his young mistress not a little astonished at his strange behavior.

That night, after locking her bedroom door as usual, as she was walking towards the dressing-table with the candle' stick in her hand, she was not a little startled to observe this man crouching down behind an easy chair which stood near the wall. In an instant his conduct in the morning flashed across her mind, and she was no longer at a loss to account for his motive in wishing to possess himself of the key. Determined not to betray, by look or gesture, that she w.us aware of his presence, she quietly put down the candlestick, and seating herself in a chair beside the dressing-table, took up her Bibb and endeavored to read, praying most earnestly that she might be enabled to do whatever was right. Human help she had no means of obtaining; for even were he to allow her to leave the room (which was not very probable,) she wisely judged that to call two terrified maids to her assistance would be worse than having no help at all; and therefore, commending herself to the protection of an all-powerful Saviour, she remained for some time with her eyes fixed upon her Bible, now and then turning over its sacred pages, and gradually becoming calm and self-possessed.

At length, having resolved what to do, she rose from her seat and proceeded to undress, as usual, first taking the key of the plate-closet from her pocket and putting it down wilh some little noise, that the man might know where to find it. She then knelt by her bed-side, and after silently imploring the protection and wisdom she so sorely needed, lit the rushlight on the hearth, and extinguished her candle. As this extraordinary girl laid her head upon the pillow, it was in the firm assurance that nothing could happen to her without her Heavenly Father's knowledge.

After awhile she heard the chair gently pushed, and through her closed eyelashes she could see the man cross the room and take up the key and the candlestick. He then lit the candle and came to her bed-side. She had just time to perceive some kind of instrument in his hand, but lay perfectly still, breathing as regularly as a little child. Not by the quiver of an eyelid, nor by the slightest flutter of the breath, did she show that she was awake, even when she felt the bed-clothes drawn down from her face, and knew that the robber was stooping over her, watching her countenance most intently. He then went to the foot of the bed, and stood for some minutes shading his eyes with hv hand, so as to throw the full light of the candle upon the quiet face before him. At last, to her intense relief, he appeared satisfied and left the room, leaving the chamber doo» partly open. 8he then heard him unlock the strong closet at the end of the gallery (into which her own and the othei principal bed-rooms opened) and begin to move the plate about, as though he were proceeding to pack it up. Believing that he would leave the key in the door, she instantly resolved, if possible, to save her uncle's plate, and to se cure the thief. Throwing something around her, she stole along the g;dlcry, and finding the key where she had expected, she suddenly closed the door and locked him in. In vain did the man alternately call, threaten, and promise what he would do if she would only let him out. With the key in her hand, she ran up stairs to rouse the women-servants, who were not a little amazed to see their young lady standing beside them with such a story to tell. Neither of them wished for any more sleep that night; and, as soon as they were dressed, they all sat up together, watching and waiting for the daylight.

When morning came, the thief was soon removed to prison by the proper officers, and when tried for the oflense, he admitted that had he believed it possible for any young lady to behave as his mistress had done, he should certainly have murdered her; hut she had completely thrown him off his guard; and when ho saw her, as he thought, so soundly asleep, he did not like to hurt her, for she had always been kind to him, and ho had no personal grudge against her.

The presence of mind displayed by this young lady was most exemplary. Absence of fear, on occasions of sudden and peculiar danger, is a rare quality, and is the result of moral training, as well as constitutional courage. Nervous tears are never so easily overcome as in early years, and the habit of overcoming them is of inestimable value in preparing for the vicissitudes and trials of life. At the same time, we sincerely hope that no lady,young or old, may ever have her presence of mind tested by the unwelcome apparition of* man concealed behind her easy chair.


In form and feature, face and limb,

I grew so like my brother,
That folks got taking me for him,

And each for one another.
It puzzled all our kith and kin,

It reached a fearful pitch;
For one of us was born a twin,

And not a soul knew which.

One day, to make the matter worse,

Before our names were fixed,
As we were being washed by nurse,

We got completely mixed;
And thus, you see, by fate's decree,

Or rather nurse's whim,
My brother John got christened me.

And I got christened him.

This fatal likeness ever dogged

My footsteps when at school,
And I was always getting flogged,

When John turned out a fool.
I put this question, fruitlessly,

To every one I knew,
"What would you do, if you were me,

To prove that you were you."

Our close resemblance turned the tide

Of my domestic life,
For somehow, my intended bride

Became my brother's wife.
In fact, year after year the same

Absurd mistakes went on,
And when I died, the neighbors came

And buried brother John.

THE DOORSTEP.—E. C. Stedman.

The conference-meeting through at last,
We boys around the vestry waited

To see the girls come tripping past
Like snowbirds willing to be mated.

« 이전계속 »