ing the ignorant, and promoting in every possible way the temporal and spiritual interests of her fellow-creatures. She afforded, in her whole deportment, a beautiful example of the sanctifying power of true, vital religion. And all the while she was training for heaven. Her time on earth was to be short, and therefore the Spirit was carrying forward his work with amazing rapidity. And as she grew in grace, her heart became more intensely set upon heaven. "What sweetness is there," she said on one occasion, "in the thought of that eternal life-of that state of rest and love! There we shall comprehend those delightful words of our Saviour, 'I go to prepare a place for you, that where I am, there ye may be also.'"

Such was Clementine Cuvier, cut down in the bloom of early youth, and yet carried as a ripe shock of corn into the heavenly garner. She is, doubtless, now before the throne; and, looking back on all the pleasures and enjoyments of this world, how completely can she set her seal to the declaration of the apostle, that "to be with Christ is far better."

THE VICTORIOUS CITY.

WHEN in Rome's proud days of greatness, stubborn nations bowed and fell

'Neath the strong arm of her people, one small city conquered well;

Conquered all Rome's pride and wisdom, triumphed o'er her soldier might,

Over senators and consul, by the simple force of right.

Once from fierce and sharp encounter, conquering had the legions come,

When amid the chained captives, some were found from Tusculum:

Then with fury burned Camillus-"What! is Tusculum our foe?

Let the senate give the order-soon we'll lay the rebels low!"

Large and powerful was the army, that rode out with fire and sword,

To scatter war's destructive rage through the country all abroad;

Brightly gleamed their brazen armour, loud and long their trumpets brayed,

As they neared the peaceful borders—in his pride the war-horse neighed.

But no sign or preparation for the conflict found they there,

In the meadows dozed the cattle, and the tiller plied the share;

All the city gates stood open, and from thence a whiterobed throng

Brought forth presents for the army, singing as they came along.

Wonder-stricken stood the Romans, gazing on the peaceful scene;

Forward then, the city entered; still no armed force

was seen.

Every shop and mart was open, and along each busy

street

Passed the buyer and the seller, friend and foe each other greet.

From the school rooms rose a burring, rose the hum of childhood's voice;

As they conned aloud their lessons, fearless were those girls and boys;

To the Senate-house the Consul passed along with eager tread,

Found the peaceful gowned Fathers free from all war's symbols dread.

"Ye have conquered-ye have conquered!" brave Camillus cried aloud,

"Ye have found the only weapons, to which Rome has ever bowed;

Gladly do I grant permission for you now to Rome

to go,

Plead your cause before her Senate-prove yourselves no treacherous foe."

EARTH'S ANGELS.

WHY come not spirits from the realms of glory
To visit earth, as in the days of old,

The times of sacred writ and ancient story?

Is heaven more distant? or has earth grown cold?

Oft have I gazed, when sunset clouds, receding
Waved like rich banners of a host gone by,
To catch the gleam of some white pinion speeding
Along the confines of the glowing sky;-

And oft, when midnight stars, in distant chillness, Were calmly burning, listened late and long; But Nature's pulse beat on in solemn stillness, Bearing no echo of the seraph's song.

To Bethlem's air was their last anthem given,
When other stars before the One grew dim?
Was their last presence known in Peter's prison?
Or where exulting martyrs raised their hymn?

And are they all within the veil departed?

There gleams no wing along the empyrean now; And many a tear from human eyes has started, Since angel touch has calmed a mortal brow.

No; earth has angels, though their forms are moulded But of such clay as fashions all below;

Though harps are wanting, and bright pinions folded, We know them by the love-light on their brow.

I have seen angels by the sick one's pillow;

Theirs was the soft tone and the soundless tread; Where smitten hearts were drooping like the willow, They stood "between the living and the dead."

And if my sight, by earthly dimness hindered,
Beheld no hovering cherubim in air-
I doubted not-for spirits know their kindred—
They smiled upon the wingless watchers there.

There have been angels in the gloomy prison

In crowded halls-by the lone widow's hearth; And where they passed, the fallen hath uprisen— The giddy paused-the mourner's hope had birth.

I have seen one whose eloquence commanding
Roused the rich echoes of the human breast,
The blandishments of wealth and ease withstanding,
That Hope might reach the suffering and oppressed.

And by his side there moved a form of beauty,
Strewing sweet flowers along his path of life,
And looking up with meek and love-lent duty;
I call her angel, but he called her wife.

O, many a spirit walks the world unheeded,
That, when its veil of sadness is laid down,
Shall soar aloft with pinions unimpeded,
And wear its glory like a starry crown.