Thirty dayes hath Nouember

They may the better fish in the water when it is troubled.

Printer to the Queen.

Father, dear father, come home with me now! The clock in the steeple strikes three; The house is so lonely, the hours are so long For poor weeping mother and me. Yes, we are alone, poor Benny is dead, And gone with the angels of light;

An undivided heart, which worships God alone, and trusts Him as it should, is raised above anxiety for earthly wants.

An air of mystery surrounds his researches, lying, as they do, chiefly in depths to which the far-seeing eye of the telescope alone penetrates.

How like the leper, with his own sad cry Enforcing his own solitude, it tolls! That lonely bell set in the rushing shoals, To warn us from the place of jeopardy!