The silken down of happiness complete!
Discerner of the ripest grapes of joy!
She gathered and selected with her hand
All finest relishes, all fairest sights,

All rarest odors, all divinest sounds,

All thoughts, all feelings dearest to the soul;
And brought the holy mixture home, and filled

The heart with all superlatives of bliss.

But who would that expound, which words transcends,

Must talk in vain. Behold a meeting scene

Of early love, and thence infer its worth.

It was an eve of autumn's holiest mood.

The corn-fields, bathed in Cynthia's silver light,
Stood ready for the reaper's gathering hand;
And all the winds slept soundly. Nature seemed
In silent contemplation to adore

Its Maker. Now and then the aged leaf
Fell from its fellows, rustling to the ground;
And, as it fell, bade man think on his end.
On vale and lake, on wood and mountain high,
With pensive wing outspread, sat heavenly Thought,
Conversing with itself. Vesper looked forth
From out her western hermitage, and smiled;
And up the east, unclouded, rode the moon
With all her stars, gazing on earth intense,
As if she saw some wonder working there.

Such was the night, so lovely, still, serene,
When, by a hermit thorn that on the hill
Had seen a hundred flowery ages pass,
A damsel kneeled to offer up her prayer-
Her prayer nightly offered, nightly heard.
This ancient thorn had been the meeting place
Of love, before his country's voice had called
The ardent youth to honored office far
Beyond the wave: and hither now repaired,
Nightly, the maid, by God's all-seeing eye
Seen only, while she sought this boon alone-
"Her lover's safety, and his quick return."
In holy, humble attitude she kneeled,
And to her bosom, fair as moonbeam, pressed
One hand, the other lifted up to heaven.
Her eye, upturned, bright as the star of morn,
As violet meek, excessive ardor streamed,
Wafting away her earnest heart to God.
Her voice, scarce uttered, soft as Zephyr sighs
On morning's lily cheek, though soft and low,
Yet heard in heaven, heard at the mercy-seat.
A tear drop wandered on her lovely face;
It was a tear of faith and holy fear,
Pure as the drops that hang at dawning-time
On yonder willows by the stream of life.
On her the moon looked steadfastly; the stars

That circle nightly round the eternal throne
Glanced down, well pleased; and everlasting Love
Gave gracious audience to her prayer sincere.

O had her lover seen her thus alone,
Thus holy, wrestling thus, and all for him!
Nor did he not: for ofttimes Providence
With unexpected joy the fervent prayer
Of faith surprised. Returned from long delay,
The sacred thorn, to memory dear, first sought
The youth, and found it at the happy hour,
Just when the damsel kneeled herself to pray.
Wrapped in devotion, pleading with her God,
She saw him not, heard not his foot approach.
All holy images seemed too impure

To emblem her he saw. A seraph kneeled,
Beseeching for his ward before the throne,

Seemed fittest, pleased him best. Sweet was the thought!
But sweeter still the kind remembrance came,

That she was flesh and blood formed for himself,

The plighted partner of his future life.

And as they met, embraced, and sat embowered
In woody chambers of the starry night,
Spirits of love about them ministered,
And God, approving, blessed the holy joy!

JONATHAN DYMOND, 1796-1828.

JONATHAN DYMOND,' the celebrated author of the "Essays on Morality," was born in Exeter, in 1796. His father, who was a member of the Society of Friends, was a linen-draper of that city, and brought up his son to the same business. Of course, he did not receive what is called a "liberal education;" but he possessed that without which a liberal education is worse than useless; for the sound moral and religious principles which were carefully inculcated by his parents at home laid the foundation of that high and stern standard of morality which has placed him at the very head of English moralists. On leaving school, he found employment in his father's business, in which he afterwards became a partner, and in which he continued until the close of his life. He early evinced a disposition for quiet reflection, and in his conversation, for which he had a great talent, he manifested just and enlightened views of the progress of mankind, and that freedom of thought which enabled him to go forth in search of truth,

There are very few materials for writing a biography of Dymond, and I am indebted for this chiefly to an article in the " Non-Slaveholder," written by its editor, Samuel Rhoads, from materials collected by him from the family when he was in England.

The slim town of happiness complete!
Descemer of the ripes grapes of joy!
Steered and selected with her hand
1. Lusstes frest sights,

2. Les a rest sounds,

4. Lengs dearest to the soul; And wang the borre home, and filled Ta superatives of bliss.

Last which words transcends, 1x 21. Bod a meeting scene SECT VE and hence ader as worth.

If 's holiest mood.

VIS H

Tarries a Cratha's silver light,
SALT we pers gathering band;
ALL. DE This sect sunly. Nature seemed

ise Linear sare

Is the New miten the aged leaf 3. PR is Y

the ground; Ik on his end. THE IN: Be a wood and mountain high, Wag austread sat heavenly Thought, va sa Tesper looked forth Fevsur bermage, and smiled; 55 17 the eas morated rode the moon .net sars ging on earth intense, ASUS same wonder working there. Sat The L se kvaly, st, serene,

TAPIJT the hill

cnet trg is the star of morn,

APAN ROKY der streamed,

st heart to God.

meal so as Zephyr sighs

Cove, dough soft and low,
band at the mercy-seat.

on her lovely face;

and boy fear,

that bang at dawning-time cws by the stream of life.

Or be the s sooded steadfastly; the sta

That circle nightly round the eternal throne
Glanced down, well pleased; and everlasting Love
Gave gracious audience to her prayer sincere.

O had her lover seen her thus alone,
Thus holy, wrestling thus, and all for him!
Nor did he not: for ofttimes Providence
With unexpected joy the fervent prayer
Of faith surprised. Returned from long delay,
The sacred thorn, to memory dear, first sought
The youth, and found it at the happy hour,
Just when the damsel kneeled herself to pray.
Wrapped in devotion, pleading with her God,
She saw him not, heard not his foot approach.
All holy images seemed too impure

To emblem her he saw. A seraph kneeled,
Beseeching for his ward before the throne,

Seemed fittest, pleased him best. Sweet was the thought!

But sweeter still the kind remembrance came,

That she was flesh and blood formed for himself,

The plighted partner of his future life.

And as they met, embraced, and sat embowered
In woody chambers of the starry night,
Spirits of love about them ministered,
And God, approving, blessed the holy joy!

to disregard the opinions of his contemporaries, and of those who had gone before him, and to bring his strong intellect and his very sensitive and enlightened conscience, unfettered, to the investigation of the Divine Will in the government of the world.

In 1822, he married Anna Wilkey, a Friend, of Plymouth, who survived him nearly twenty-one years; their family consisted of a daughter and a son, the latter of whom died at the age of seven years. In 1823, he published his "Enquiry into the Accordancy of War with the Principles of Christianity," a work composed in the momentary intervals of business, and in his early morning hours-time rescued from sleep by his habit of early rising. This work, from the energy and earnestness of its style, and from its high standard of Christian morals, immediately attracted very great attention, and soon ran through three editions. Of course, it met with censure from those who deem human butchery professionally right; but it was the means of opening the eyes of many to the atrocities of war, and of raising up many supporters to the cause of peace.

During the time occupied in publishing the "Enquiry," he was frequently engaged in laying the foundation of his other work-that on which his fame chiefly rests his "Essays on the Principles of Morality." This, he hoped, would prove even more extensively useful than his first work, and he soon devoted himself fully to it-a work that was to exhibit the only true and authoritative standard of rectitude, and to estimate, by that standard, the moral character of human actions. He was never of a strong constitution; and, early in the spring of 1826, appeared the first symptoms of that disease which, in two years, was to send him to his grave. A frequent cough and great weakness of the throat gradually increased upon him, and he was soon compelled to give up conversation altogether, and to express his ideas by writing on a little slate which he carried in his pocket. This continued to be his only means of conversation until the close of his life. As recommended by his friends, he went to London to consult some eminent physicians there; but all to no purpose. His disorder-pulmonary consumption-continued to make rapid advances, and after trying two or three different situations in the country in hopes of benefit, he returned to his native place, where he remained still employed, as his small remaining strength would permit, in preparing for the publica. tion of his "Essays;" and he might be seen surrounded by his papers until a few days before his death, which took place on the 6th of May, 1828. Throughout his lingering illness, he evinced a perfect resignation to the will of God, and a full confidence in his promises, and manifested on his death-bed his deep conviction of that great truth with which he has concluded his "Essays"-that "the true and safe foundation of our hope is in the redemption that is in Christ Jesus."

1 A well-merited tribute to his character appeared, some years ago, in "Tait's Magazine," in the following lines, entitled

DYMOND'S GRAVE.

"Standing by Exeter's Cathedral tower,

My thoughts went back to that small grassy mound