THE RABBI'S VISION.-FRANCES BROWN.

Ben Levi sat with his books alone

At the midnight's solemn chime,

And the full-orbed moon through his lattice shone
In the power of autumn's prime :
It shone or the darkly learned page,

And the snowy locks of the lonely sage,-.
But he sat and marked not its silvery light,

For his thoughts were on other themes that night.

Wide was the learn'd Ben Levi's fame
As the wanderings of his race;
And many a seeker of wisdom came
To his lonely dwelling-place;
For he made the darkest symbols clear,
Of ancient doctor and early seer.
Yet a question asked by a simple maid
He met that eve in the linden's shade,
Had puzzled his matchless wisdom more
Than all that ever it found before;
And this it was-" What path of crime
Is darkliest traced on the map of time?"

The Rabbi pondered the question o'er
With a calm and thoughtful mind,

And searched the depths of the Talmud's lore-
But an answer he could not find;

Yet a maiden's question might not foil

A sage inured to wisdom's toil,

And he leant on his hand his aged brow,

For the current of thought ran deeper now:

When lo! by his side, Ben Levi heard

A sound of rustling leaves

But not like those of the forest stirred
By the breath of summer eves,

That comes through the dim and dewy shades
As the golden glow of the sunset fades,
Bringing the odors of hidden flowers

That bloom in the greenwood's secret bowers

But the leaves of a luckless volume turned
By the swift impatient hand

Of student young, or of critic learned
In the lore of the Muse's land.

The Rabbi raised his wondering eyes,
Well might he gaze in mute surprise
For, opened wide to the moon's cold ray,
A ponderous volume before him lay!

Old were the characters, and black

As the soil when seared by the lightning's track,
But broad and full that the dimmest sight
Might clearly read by the moon's pale light;
But oh! 'twas a dark and fearful theme
That filled each crowded page,-
The gathered records of human crime
From every race and age;

All the blood that the earth had seen
Since Abel's crimsoned her early green;
All the vice that had poisoned life
Since Lamech wedded his second wife!
All the pride that had mocked the skies
Since they built old Babel's wall;
But the page of the broken promises
Was the saddest page of all.

It seemed a fearful mirror made

For friendship ruined and love betrayed,
For toil that had lost its fruitless pain,

And hope that had spent its strength in vain;
For all who sorrowed o'er broken faith-
Whate'er their fortunes in life or death-
Were there in one ghastly pageant blent

With the broken reeds on which they leant.

And foul was many a noble crest

By the nations deemed unstained;

And, deep on brows which the church had blessed,
The traitor's brand remained.

For vows in that blackened page had place
Which time had ne'er revealed,

And many a faded and furrowed face

By death and dust concealed,

Eyes that had worn their light away

In weary watching from day to day,

And tuneful voices which time had heard

Grow faint with the sickness of hope deferred.

The Rabbi read till his eyes grew dim
With the mist of gathering tears,

For it woke in his soul the frozen stream
Which had slumbered there for years;
And he turned, to clear his clouded sight,
From that blackened page to the sky so bright-
And joyed that the folly, crime, and care
Of earth could not cast one shadow there.

For the stars had still the same bright look
That in Eden's youth they wore;

And he turned again to the ponderous book-
But the book he found no more;

Nothing was there but the moon's pale beam-
And whence that volume of wonder came,
Or how it passed from his troubled view,
The sage might marvel, but never knew!
Long and well had Ben Levi preached
Against the sins of men,

And many a sinner his sermons reached
By the power of page and pen:
Childhood's folly, and manhood's vice,
And age with its boundless avarice,-
All were rebuked, and little ruth
Had he for the venial sins of youth.

But never again to mortal ears

Did the Rabbi preach of aught
But the mystery of trust and tears

By that wondrous volume taught.
And if he met a youth and maid
Beneath the linden boughs,-
Oh, never a word Ben Levi said,
But-" Beware of broken vows!"

SAM'S LETTER.

I wonder who w-wote me this letter. I thuppose the b-best way to f-find out ith to open it and thee. (Opens letter.) Thome lun-lunatic hath w-witten me this letter. He hath w-witten it upthide down. I wonder if he th-thought I wath going to w-wead it thanding on my head. Oh, yeth, I thee; I had it t-t-turned upthide down. "Amewica." Who do I know in Amewica? I am glad he hath g-given me hith addwess anyhow. Oh, yeth, I thee, it ith from Tham. I alwaths know Tham's handwiting when I thee hith name

at the b-bottom of it. "My dear bwother-" Tham alwayths called me bwother. I-I thuppose iths because hith m-mother and my mother wath the thame woman, and we never had any thisters. When we were boyths we were ladths together. They used to ge-get off a pwoverb when they thaw uth com-coming down the stweet. It ith vewy good, if I could only think of it. I can never wecollect anything that I can't we-wemember. Iths-it iths the early bir-bird-iths the early bir-bird that knowths iths own father. What non-nonthense that iths! How co-could a bir-bird know iths own father? Iths a withe-iths a withe child-iths a withe child that geths the wom. T-that's not wite. What non-nonthense that iths! No pa-pawent would allow hiths child to ga-gather woms. Iths a wyme. Iths fish of-of a feather. Fish of a fea- What non-nonthense! for fish don't have feathers. Iths a bir-bird-iths b-birds of a feather-b-birds of a feather flock together. B-birds of a feather! Just as if a who-who-whole flock of b-birds had only one f-feather. They'd all catch cold, and only one bbird c-could have that f-feather, and he'd fly sidewithse. What con-confounded nonthense that iths! Flock to-together! Of courthse th-they'd flock together. Who ever her-heard of a bird being such a f-fool as to g-go into a ccorner and flo-flock by himself? "I wo-wote you a letter thome time ago-" Thath's a lie; he d-didn't wi-wite me a letter. If he had witten me a letter he would have posted it, and I would have g-got it; so, of courthse, he didn't post it, and then he didn't wite it. Thath's easy. Oh, yeths, I thee: "but I dwopped it into the potht-potht-office forgetting to diwect it." I wonder who the d-dic-dickens got that letter. I wonder if the poth-pothman iths gwoin' awound inquiring for a f-fellow without a name. I wonder if there iths any fel-fellow without any name. If there iths any felfellow without any name, how doeths he know who he iths himthelf? 1-I wonder if thuch a fellow could get mawaid. How could he ask hiths wife to take hiths name if he h-had no name? Thath's one of thothse things no fellow can ffind out. "I have just made a startling dithcovery." Tham's alwayths d-doing thomthing. "I have dithcovered that my mother iths-that m-my mother iths not my m-mother;

that a—the old nurse iths my m-mother, and that you are not my b-bwother, and a-tha-that I was changed at my birth." How c-can a fellow be changed at hith b-birth? If he iths not himthelf, who iths he? If Tham's m-mother iths not hith m-mother, and the nurthse iths hitb mother, and Tham ithn't my bwother, who am I? That's one of thothse things that no fel-fellow can find out. "I have ppurchased an ethstate som-somewhere-" Dothn't the ididiot know wh-where h-he has bought it? Oh, yeths: “on the bankths of the M-M-Mithithippi." Wh-who iths MMithithippi? I g-gueth ith's Tham's m-mother-in-l-law. Tham's got mawaid. He th-thayths he felt v-vewy nernervous. He alwayths waths a lucky fellow getting ththings he didn't want, and hadn't any use for. Thpeaking of mother-in-lawths, I had a fwiend who had a mother-inlaw, and he didn't like her pwetty well; and she f-felt the thame way towards him; and they went away on a ststeamer acwoths the ocean, and they got wecked, catht away on a waft, and they floated awound with their feet in the water and other amuthements, living on thuch things ath they could pick up-thardinths, ithcweam, owanges, and other c-canned goodths that were floating awound. When that waths all gone, everybody ate everybody else. F-finally only himthelf and hiths m-mother-in-law waths left, and they pl-played a game of c-cards to thee who thould be eaten up-himthelf or hith mother-in-law. A-a--the mother-in-law lotht. H-he treated her handthomely, only he strapped h-her flat on her back, and e-carved her gently. H-h-he thays that waths the f-first time that he ever weally enjoyed a m-mother-in-law.

JENNY KISSED ME.-LEIGH HUNT.

Jenny kissed me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in.

Time, you thief! who love to get

Sweets into your list, put that in.

Say I'm weary, say I'm sad;

Say that health and wealth have missed me;
Say I'm growing old, but add-

Jenny kissed me!