through all her adversities, had never failed. And when they remembered the example of uniform patience and piety which she had exhibited, and the saintlike manner in which she had sustained her burdens, and cherished their sympathies, they felt as if a tutelary spirit had departed from among them. In the home of her brother, she educated her daughter in industry, and that contentment which virtue teaches. Restored to those friends with whom the morning of life had passed, she shared with humble cheerfulness the comforts that earth had yet in store for her; but in the cherished sadness of her perpetual widowhood, in the bursting sighs of her nightly orison, might be traced a sacred and deep-rooted sorrow-the memory of her erring husband, and the miseries of unreclaimed intemperance. HARTFORD, CONN. L. H. S. E PAUL BEFORE THE AREOPAGUS. COME to the Hill of Mars, for he is there, That wondrous man, whose eloquence doth touch The heart like living flame. With brow unblanch'd And eye of fearless ardour, he confronts That high tribunal, with its pen of flint, Whose irreversible decree made pale The Gentile world. All Athens gathers near- Of some new thing. See, thither throng the bands Who seem with bright and eager eyes to ask, "What will this babbler say.' With front austere Stand a dark group of stoics, sternly proud, And predetermined to confute; but still 'Neath the deep wrinkles of their settled brow To search for wisdom, and with reason's art Behold the throngs Press on the speaker-drawing still more close, Speak of the God who 'warneth every where Men to repent,' and of that fearful day When he shall judge the world. wakes, Loud tumult The tide of strong emotion hoarsely swells, And that blest voice is silenced. They have mocked From their wild circle. But his graceful hand The Unknown God." Ah, Athens! is it so? Thou who didst crown thyself with woven rays Thy pilgrim-worshipper; dost thou confess Such ignorance and shame? The Unknown God! Yea, every heart that beats within thy walls, Thou mak'st the gods of every realm thine own, All forms of idol-worship. Can it be That still ye found not Him who is so near The Unknown God! Thou who didst smile to find an awe-struck world Crouch to thee as a pupil; wert thou blind? Blinder than he who in his humble cot, With hardened hand, his daily labour done, Turneth the page of Jesus, and doth read With toil, perchance, that the trim school-boy mocks, Counting him in his arrogance a fool; Yet shall this poor, wayfaring man lie down HARTFORD, CONN. |