death's head with a bone in his mouth than to either of these. Heaven defend me from these two!

NERISSA. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon?

PORTIA. God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker; but, he! Why he hath a horse better than the Neapolitan's, a better bad habit of frowning than the Count Palatine; he is every man in no man; if a throstle sing he falls straight a-capering; he will fence with his own shadow. If I should marry him, I should marry twenty husbands. If he would despise me, I would forgive him; for if he love me to madness, I shall never requite him. NERISSA. What say you, then, to Falconbridge, the young baron of England?

PORTIA. You know I say nothing to him, for he understands not me, nor I him; I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his bonnet in Germany, and his behavior everywhere.

NERISSA. How like you the young German, the Duke of Saxony's nephew?

PORTIA. Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober, and most vilely in the afternoon, when he is drunk; when he is best, he is a little worse than a man, and when he is worst, he is little better than a beast.

NERISSA. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right casket, you should refuse to perform your father's will, if you should refuse to accept him.

PORTIA. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary casket; for if the devil be within, and that temptation without, I know he will choose it. I will do anything, Nerissa, ere I will be married to a sponge.

NERISSA. You need not fear, lady, the having any of these lords; they have acquainted me with their determi

nations; which is, indeed, to return to their home, and to trouble you with no more suit, unless you may be won by some other sort than your father's imposition depending on the caskets.

PORTIA. If I live to be as old as Sybilla, I will die as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner of my father's will. I am glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonable, for there is not one among them but I doat on his very absence; and I wish them a fair departure.

Constantly near Thy side,
Quickened and purified,
Living for Him who died
Freely for me!

HASTINGS.

LEAD, Kindly Light! amid th' encircling gloom,

Lead Thou me on;

The night is dark, and I am far from home,
Lead Thou me on;

Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene; one step enough for me.

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou
Shouldst lead me on;

I loved to choose and see my path; but now
Lead Thou me on;

I loved the garish day, and spite of fears,
Pride ruled my will. Remember not past years.

So long Thy power has blest me, sure it still
Will lead me on

O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till
The night is gone;

And with the morn those angel-faces smile
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.

CARDINAL NEWMAN.

THE breaking waves dashed high

THE

On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky

Their giant branches tossed,

And the heavy night hung dark

The hills and waters o'er,

When a band of exiles moor'd their bark

On the wild New England shore.

Not as the conqueror comes,

They, the true-hearted, came;

Not with the roll of the stirring drums,
And the trumpet that sings of fame;
Not as the flying come,

In silence and in fear;

They shook the depths of the desert gloom
With their hymns of lofty cheer.

Amidst the storm they sang,

And the stars heard and the sea!

And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang

To the anthem of the free!

The ocean eagle soar'd

From his nest by the white wave's foam, And the rocking pines of the forest roar'dThis was their welcome home!

The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?

They sought a faith's pure shrine!

Aye, call it holy ground,

The soil where first they trode!

They have left unstain'd what there they found— Freedom to worship God.

SOME

FELICIA D. HEMANS.

OMETIMES a light surprises
The Christian while he sings;

It is the Lord, who rises

With healing in His wings:
When comforts are declining,
He grants the soul again
A season of clear shining,
To cheer it after rain.