The atmosphere of earth-Oh! how And quenched the spirit's fervent glow, And how these feet have gone astray, That should have walked the narrow way. Race for the swift-I must away, With footstep firm and free; Ye pleasures that invite my stay 'A prize laid up'-said he who fought That holy fight of old, 'Laid up in Heaven for me, yet not But all who wait till thou appear, Patiently wait-so help thou me, That dim although the vision be, This eye thus lifted to the skies, This heart thus burning for the prize. G. E. A. THE INTEMPERATE. "COME along," said James Harwood to his wife, who, burdened with two children, followed in his steps. Her heart was full, and she made no reply. “Well, be sullen if you choose, but make haste you shall, or I will leave you behind in the woods." Then, as if vexed because his ill humour failed to irritate its object, he added, in a higher tone "Put down that boy. Have not I told you, twenty times, that you could get along faster if you had but one to carry ? He can walk as well as I can." "He is sick," said the mother; "feel how his head throbs. Pray take him in your arms." "I tell you, Jane Harwood, once for all, that you are spoiling the child by your foolishness. 66 |