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He had caught but a glimpse, but the beam was too bright,
Of that face which makes heaven's own day :
As on her bosom he nestled to pray.
And a smile too I've seen in His e'e ;
With His love and His sweet company."
“ If ye kenned how I love Him!” said the idiot boy, “ At His table you'd let my
heart rest!” So the Master came down when the night wind was
hushed, And took the poor lad to His breast. Poor weakling ! no more thou shalt whisper thy grief,
“ But I dinna see Him that I love,”
While waiting the light from above.
Yet the home of our Saviour and King ;
And the day-break of glory could bring !
Through its refts Thy sweet beauty could shine, And build in the soul of a poor idiot boy
A throne and a temple divine.
Oh, sweet is the thought that the morning's pale dew,
As it hangs on a half-broken spray,
The monarch and lord of the day.
When illumined by the light of God's grace,
When they gaze on the Saviour's own face.
O loft of poor Yeddie! so rich yet so poor,
The birth-place of heaven's own King;
As is nurtured ’neath mercy's own wing.
And swayed His own sceptre of love,
Became lustrous with light from above.
O loft of poor Yeddie ! the bridegroom's own face
Clothed thy walls with the purest of light, As mercy came forth to robe her own child
In raiment all spotless and bright.
His race ended ere scarcely begun ;
By which she declared him her son.
Oh, beauty of the lowly heart,
May we such beauty seek !
The humble and the meek !
That glory cannot see
Who learn to bend the knee.
O come Philosophy, and sit
At this poor idiot's feet;
The eye of faith can greet;
May proudly soar above;
Dawns on the eye of LOVE.-W. POOLE BALBERN.
The Ereat Fire of London.
the metropolis of our country. A disease
all the king's subjects on horseback as on foot.” There has been a great improvement since those days, but we are sure that cholera, small-pox, and other diseases would be much diminished, if, in the narrow streets, lanes, alleys, and courts, as well as in low, dirty, and crowded lodging-houses, more attention were paid to cleanliness and ventilation. The Great Fire took place the year after the Great Plague. While this was a terrible calamity, it did much in clearing London of many sources of contagious diseases. Not only were thirteen thousand houses burnt, but St. Paul's Cathedral, and a large number of churches and public buildings were destroyed. Such a fire would be impossible now, on account of the improved means of arresting and extinguishing fires. During the last century there has been marked advancement in arts, sciences, and generalįeducation. And we hope the present youthful generation may far surpass its predecessors, in all that it is true, and noble, and good.
We conclude our article by quoting some remarks of Samuel Pepys, which appeared in an interesting article on his Diary in our Large Magazine for March. “September 2nd, 1666, Lord's day. Jane called us up about three in the morning, to tell us of a Great Fire they saw in the
* We saw the fire as one entire arch of fire from this to the other side of the bridge. ** * It made me weep
City. * *
to see it. The churches, houses, and all on fire and flaming at once; and a horrid noise the flames made, and the cracking of houses at their ruine.”
" Do uuto others as ye would they should do
SAY now, Johnny, come along o'me an’ Jim. We're agoin' to knock over old Sal Casey's apple-stand, 'cause her wouldn't give us no toffy this mornin'. Don't set a whimperin' on them steps: but jest come along o' us.”
“No, no, Pat ! I a’n’t agoin' with you an' Jim no more,” answered Johnny Lane, the younger
of the three ragged, dirty boys grouped round a rickety Aight of old wooden steps in the neighbourhood of the Five Points. “You fellers does things what a’n’t right; an' though I've done 'em with yer afore, I don't mean to agin. I don't believe my mother, what's dead an’ gone to heaven, would ’a liked to have me do such mean things as knockin' over old Sal's stand; an’I a’n’t agoin' to. I'm bound to try to get out o'the Pints, an' be a better boy if I can.”
“Oho! Were turnin' mighty pious an' good all ov a sudden we are. Well, come along, jim ; we can have our fun, anyhow ;” and, with a rude, jeering laugh, the two large boys can off.
"Johnny, my lad," said a rough though kindly voice. Johnny looked up. Before him stood another boy of fifteen or so (his arm full of newspapers) whom he had known a good while, but had not seen for many months.
“Why, is that you, Peter Strong?” cried Johnny, jump