As well in flowers that bloom an hour of bliss,
As in the worlds that feel the blue abyss.
Clad in a veil, this fane mysterious stands,
And yet the light of trusting love is there,

Which gives the inner shrine a deathless glow,
And with the incense of unuttered prayer,
Is mingled music such as seraphs know!
This temple is a consecrated soul,

That yields implicitly to God's supreme control!

III.

An earnest soul, that strives to do God's will
On earth, as angels do in courts above,
Whose happiest labor here is that of love,
Whose highest wish is to secure from ill
His fellows, who are blindly erring still ;-
A fearless soul, content to meekly move
In duty's sphere, though dark it often prove,
And lurking foes its ardor fain would chill,—
That sees in man, however marred by sin,

A child of God, an heir of endless life,
And seeing his great need, essays to win

Him from the world's most deadly coil and strife: In such a soul is built a temple fair,

And God's best, highest praise is ever offered there!

THE PIONEER.

BY E. FRANCIS.

THE traveller on one of the thoroughfares leading southward from the central city, cannot forget a one-story cottage, built on a gentle knoll a few paces back from the road. It tells him that plenty and contentment is the favored lot of its household.

Reader, enter the door with me, and let us have a familiar chat with the venerable matron of nearly fourscore years. She is a remnant of other times. We may learn from her what we can learn from no other living lips. Soon, very soon, must her voice be silent in death.

Listen, then, to her story, for she told it me a few days since, in answer to the many questions I asked her.

She was born in the far-off Granite State. She was nurtured among the hills, through which one of the tributaries of the beautiful Connecticut flows on, to mingle its waters with the larger river, and ultimately become a part of the deep-heaving ocean.

The pure breezes of the mountains, the substantial nourishment of the hill-country, and the active labors of a farmer's daughter, all combined

to develop her physical powers; whilst the faithful instructions of the village teacher stored her mind with the elements of a common English education. Thus she grew up to early womanhood. Her parents were among the most thriving families of that neighborhood. As it would naturally be expected, the young farmers, who went soberly up to their temple of worship on the often-returning New England sabbath, cast many serious, and not a few smiling glances to the corner where the bright-eyed Mary sat.

But they could not rest satisfied with such stolen glances. In due time one of the many lovers was accepted. He was well worthy of the maiden's affections. He was the son of an honest farmer.

With a good heart, industrious habits, an enterprising spirit, he doubted not that he could well provide for her whose troth was plighted to him.

Would he have a

And now then for the future. home, he must be up and doing. The cry along the valley, with the young, and some of the older men, was, ' Westward! ho.' Away up the Mohawk, and stretching far south and west, were dense wildernesses. The soil was said to be exceedingly rich and productive. Pioneers were already pushing their way into the dense forests. Large stories, as in more modern days, were told of the regions just opened, inviting the enterprising to emigrate.

It was finally agreed that the young man should depart, purchase a tract somewhere in the then westernmost portion of the Empire State, clear a patch of a few acres, erect a log-dwelling, and, so soon as his humble cot should be ready, return and take her thither. He started on a brilliant morning, just as the early rays were gilding the bald peaks of the mountains. Buoyant with hope, he journeyed with his face first to the south, and then, as the day declined, he turned toward the setting sun. Day after day he toiled up the hills, and along by the rivers, passing difficult fords, till he came to the region where some of his companions had determined to fix their homes. He soon negotiated a purchase in connection with a brother who had been unfortunate in New England.

The primeval forests waved all about. The hard work of the woodman was first to be done. The young man sat him down upon a grassy knoll, and strange visions passed before him. Far, far away was his rosy-cheeked betrothed. Long months must pass before he should hear aught from her. But he would have the word go to her home, when some one should, in a few weeks, carry a message thither, that he was not discouraged. He rose quickly, threw aside his coat, bared his sinewy arm, grasped the handle of his axe, and began to strike vigorous blows, nerved with new strength, as he

thought of her whose presence should one day be the light of that spot.

The weeks, one by one, passed away, each witnessing something accomplished for their future weal. When his home was reared, and a few of the most necessary articles of housekeeping had been obtained, and the seed for the autumn harvest was in the ground, he began his way toward the place where abode his heart's treasure. The greetings were such as young and ardent lovers know about. The bride had been busy with her hands during the long months since they parted. She had spun and wove, and the result of her labor was seen in the snow-white linen, the home-made blankets, and other things of use, so carefully stored against that season of most importance in a woman's life.

And now her anticipations were about to be realized. The neighbors were all bidden, and the white-haired and deeply revered minister pronounced the nuptial benediction.

The following day beheld them in a farmer's wagon, loaded with a few necessary articles, drawn by a pair of well-trained horses, moving sadly, and yet cheerfully on, as mile after mile lengthened the distance from the home of her childhood, and brought her hourly nearer the cot where she was to reign mistress.

The abode was reached at last. Often, very