2. He dreamt of his home, of his dear native bow'rs, And pleasure that waited on life's merry morn;

While mem'ry stood sideways, half cover'd with flow'rs, And display'd ev'ry rose, but secreted its thorn.

3. Then fancy her magical pinions spread wide, And bade the young dreamer in ecstacy rise;

Now far, far behind him the green waters glide, And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes:

4. The jessamine clambers, in flow'r o'er the thatch,
And the swallow sings sweet from her nest in the wall:
All trembling with transport he raises the latch,
And the voices of lov'd ones reply to his call.

5. A father bends o'er him with looks of delight-
His cheek is impearl'd with a mother's warm tear;
And the lips of the boy, in a love kiss, unite
With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear.

6. The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast, Joy quickens his pulse-all his hardships seem o'er,

And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest— "Kind fate thou hast blest me-I ask for no more."

7. Ah! whence is that flame which now bursts on his eye? Ah! what is that sound which now larums his ear?

"Tis the lightning's red glare, painting hell on the sky,"Tis the crashing of thunders, the groan of the sphere.

8. He springs from his hammock-he flies to the deck, Amazement confronts him with images dire;

Wild winds and wild waves drive the vessel a wreck, The masts fly in splinters, the shrouds are on fire.

9. Like mountains the billows tremendously swell : In vain the lost wretch calls on mercy to save; Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell, And the death angel flaps his broad wings o'er the wave.

10. Oh! sailor-boy, woe to thy dream of delight; In darkness disolves the gay frost-work of bliss;

Where now is the picture that fancy touch'd brightThy parents' fond pressure, and the love's honied kiss?

11. Oh, sailor-boy! sailor-boy! never again. Shall home, love, or kindred, thy wishes repay! Unblest and unhonor'd, down deep in the main, Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay;

12. No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee, Or redeem form or fame from the merciless surge;

But the white foam of wave shall thy winding sheet be, And winds in the midnight of winter, thy dirge;

13. On beds of green sea-flow'rs thy limbs shall be laid, Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow;

Of thy fair, yellow locks, threads of amber be made; And ev'ry part suit to thy mansion below.

14. Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away,
And still the vast waters above thee shall roll;
Earth loses thy pattern for ever and aye
Oh, sailor-boy! sailor-boy!-peace to thy soul!

W. W. Dimond.

ELOQUENCE OF THE HUMAN VOICE.

1. We are all sensible of the varieties of the human voice; we distinguish our acquaintances by its tones, as unerringly as by the features of the face; and in speaking of each other, we refer to its qualities as constituting a most essential point in our descriptions. Yet how few of us have any distinct consciousness of the immense influence which the tones of the voice exercise, not only in qualifying the import of our words, but in communicating, al. most independent of them, the most delicate sensations,

as well as the most violent emotions, and in disclosing the deepest and most hidden traits of the "concealed heart."

2. Every one feels how many physiognomical peculiarities are indissolubly connected with certain moral and intellectual qualities; but this connexion is far less extensive and fixed, than that between peculiar tone and their qualities. From the first to the last breath of our existence, the voice takes its character from the mind and the heart. 3. Education, as it modifies our other attributes, may modify this, and even bestow command over some of its powers; still its tones will remain the true index of the soul. The various changes, from the angelic innocence of the little child, through the joys of childhood, the hopes of youth and the design of maturity, down to the indifference of old age, continually produce their corresponding changes in the tones of the voice.

4. What description of the purity, the innocence, the helplessness of an infant, could move our hearts towards the little being, like its sweet and worldless tones? what call of distress so irresistibly draws assistance, as the cries of its wants and its pains? Nature has given to these tones a peculiar power, commensurate with its entire dependence upon us, and we are its servitors.

5. Then is there on earth any thing like the playful and joyous tones through which after-childhood pours out its unchained spirit? Nothing-no wit, no humor, no exhilaration of the nature man has power over our sympathies, like the burst from the spotless hearts of laughing children.

6. In youth, that state between the artless child and artful adult, when the bosom is in perpetual commotion, its hopes and its passions assuming new positions and new combinations, kaleidoscope like, at every new incident that agitates the mind, how impotent are mere words, how meagre would be the picture of the heart, without the tones of the voice peculiar to that age.

7. In manhood, when the mind directs every act and every speech according to design, good or bad, and attempts to bend every incident to its purposes, we acquire

the art of appearing what we wish to be thought, instead of what we really are, for

"All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players."

Every thing that is of us, yields to the cunning devices of the mind, except the voice.

8. The tones which belong to particular emotions, cannot be altogether suppressed; nor can the most consummate hypocrisy perfectly imitate those tones, where the emotions do not exist. Hence it is, that the pure, the simple, the upright, the sincere, need no vouchers; they have only to speak, and the tones of their voice begat at once implicit faith. Deception may practice her wiles in every other way, she may force the eye to weep, the lips to smile, the tongue to utter false words, but she essays in vain to subdue entirely the tones of the voice. At every moment they rebel in favor of truth.

9. From old age we need no declarations of decayed sensibilities, of indifference to the excitements of the younger world, of loved repose; this stage of mortality has its own tones, which convey the sad truth of decay, in despite of all the treasured phrases of former and more vigorous habits.

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10. Between friends, lovers, parents, and children, in all the dearer relationships of life, mere words are idle wind," that passes unheeded by; it is to the tones of the voice that they listen-those ever true messengers between mind and mind, and heart and heart. Even in our slighter intercourse with the world, the attractions and aversions which we feel towards particular persons, depend, more than upon any thing else, perhaps, on the impressions received from the tones of the voice.

every

11. That eloquence which rivets every eye of an immense assembly on the speaker, and makes bosom swell with his own; that acting which hushes an audience into death-like silence, and bathes every eye in tears, does not depend upon the mere words, the attitudes, and gesticu. lations; but upon the voice. These are the mere outlines; the orator's and the actor's impassioned tone perfect the

figures, put on the coloring and shadow, and give the picture its life and beauty.

12. At every stage of life, under the influence of every passion, amidst all the various scenes of business, of love, of hate, of enjoyment, and of misery, the tones of the voice and they only, denote us truly.-Dr. J. R. Black.

ADVANTAGES OF KNOWLEDGE.

1. Knowledge in general, expands the mind, exalts the faculties, refines the taste of pleasure, and opens innumerable sources of intellectual enjoyment.

2. By means of it, we become less dependent for satisfaction upon the sensative appetites; the gross pleasures of sense are more easily despised, and we are made to feel the superiority of the spiritual to the material part of our nature. Instead of being continually solicited by the influence and irritation of sensible objects, the mind can retire within herself, and expatiate in the cool and quiet walks of contemplation.

3. The poor man who can read, and who possesses a taste for reading, can find entertainment at home, without being tempted to repair to the public house, for that purpose. His mind can find him employment, when his body is at rest; he does not lie prostrate and afloat on the current of incidents, liable to be carried whithersoever the im. pulse of appetite may direct.

4. There is in the mind of such a man an intellectual spring, urging him to the pursuit of mental good; and if the minds of his family also are a little cultivated, conversation becomes the more interesting, and the sphere of domestic enjoyment enlarged. The calm satisfaction which books afford, puts him into a disposition to relish more exquisitely, the tranquil delight inseperable from the indulgence of conjugal and parental affection; and as he will be more respectable in the eyes of his family, than he who can teach them nothing, he will be naturally induced to cultivate whatever may preserve, and shun whatever would impair, that respect.