THE CURSE OF BABYLON. BY DAVID MALLOCK, A. M. WHERE, oh where is Babylon? Where, oh where is Babylon, Where, oh where is Babylon, Where, oh where is Babylon, Where, oh where is Babylon? Where, oh where is Babylon? The deep pool mantles o'er, With its silent robe, her gorgeous domes, Where, oh where is Babylon? DEATH AND SLEEP. Translated from the German. FRATERNALLY embracing each other, the angel of Sleep and the angel of Death traversed the earth. It was evening. They laid themselves down on a hill not far from the dwellings of men. A melancholy silence prevailed round about, and the evening-bell ceased in the distant hamlets. Still and mute, as is their way, sat the two beneficent Genii of the human race in a confidential affection, and already night approached. Then rose the angel of Sleep from his moss-grown couch, and strewed with a wary hand the invisible grains of slumber. The nightbreezes bore them to the quiet habitation of the tired country man. Now sweet sleep enveloped the inmates of the rural cottages, from the hoary veteran, who leans upon a staff, to the suckling, in the cradle. The sick forgot his pains, the mourner his grief, poverty its cares. All eyes were closed. Now, business being finished, the beneficent angel of Sleep lay down again by his sterner brother. When the morning red awoke, he exclaimed in joyful innocence,- Then men praise me as their friend and benefactor! O what joy to do good unseen and secretly! How happy are we the invisible messengers of the good spirit! How beautiful our calm vocation!' So spake the friendly angel of Sleep. The angel of Death regarded him with silent sadness, and a tear, as the immortals weep, entered into his large dark eye. Ah,' said he, 'that I cannot, like thee, enjoy the cheerful thanks. The earth calls me its foe and the spoiler of its pleasures!'-Oh my brother,' replied the angel of Sleep, will not also the good man, on awakening, acknowledge thee his friend and benefactor, and gratefully bless thee? Are we not brethren and messengers of one father?' Thus spake he, then the eye of the Death-angel sparkled, and the fraternal Genii embraced each other more tenderly. THE SPIRIT'S DREAM. BY THE REV. W. M. HETHERINGTON, a. m. VOL. I. RECAL me not to this mortal life, Recal me not-oh! recal me not! Away let me soar-away, away— Where grief no more my being may wring. Let me glide with sister-seraphs along Thro' bowers and meads of immortal bloom, Let me mingle with those that have gone before The loved, the lost in life's young day, Mingle-to part no more, no more! I come, bright Spirits! oh! lead the way! I come! I come! for I feel your call, Like the touch of hope on the thrilling heart: 2 B Alas! I ween by that lessening fall Oh! I long for the land of souls in vain, For mine earthly dwelling entombs me yet: THE SICK WIDOW. From the Italian of Soave. WHILE a person of high rank was passing early one morning, incognito and alone, by the suburbs of Vienna, he saw a youth about twelve years old approach him, and who, with downcast and tearful eye, and with timid and desponding voice, began to ask him for some relief. The youth's genteel air, his composed behaviour, the blush which overspread his countenance, the tears which bedewed his eyelids, and his tremulous, faultering and broken voice, made a deep impression on this stranger's mind." You do not seem," said he to him, "to have been born to ask alms: what is it that reduces you to this extremity ?" With the deepest feeling of sorrow, the youth replied, "Alas! certainly I was not born in this miserable condition. The misfortunes of my father, and the unhappy state in which my mother is at present, oblige me to apply to the charitable for support. My father was a merchant, had gained considerable credit, and was beginning to make a fortune. The failure of one of his partners ruined him entirely. And to add to our misfortunes, unable to survive his disaster, and in consequence of it, he died a month after, of a broken heart. My mother, a younger brother and I were left in extreme distress. I found an asylum with one of my father's friends. My mother, by her industry, supported, till now, herself and my younger brother. But to-night, she was suddenly seized with a violent distemper, and I fear for her life. I am destitute of every thing, have no money, and know not how to bring her relief. Not accustomed to beg, I want confidence to present myself to any who knows me. Sir, you seemed to be a stranger, and therefore I attempted, at first sight, to overcome before you the bashfulness which I feel. Alas! have pity on my unhappy mother! give me the means to relieve her!" Saying thus, he burst into tears, and the stranger was much affected. Does your mother live far from this?" said the stranger, earnestly. "Not far: at the end of this street, in the last house on the left hand-on the third floor." "Has any physician visited her yet?" "I was going to seek cae; but I know neither how to reward him, nor how to provide what he shall prescribe for her." The stranger pulled a few florins out of his purse, and offering them to him, said, "Go call a physician to your mother, and bring her all the relief in your power." The youth, having kindly thanked his benefactor, with expressions simple indeed, but full of heart-felt gratitude, departed instantly. When he had gone out of sight, the stranger instantly determined to visit the unhappy widow. He ascended the stair, and entered into a small chamber, in which he saw two or three rush-bottomed chairs, a few kitchen utensils, a rude and ill-constructed table, an old chest of drawers, and a bed upon which the invalid was lying. She was very sick, and her little son was sobbing at the foot of her bed. She tried to comfort him, but she herself had most need of comfort. The tender-hearted stranger addressed her, and having comforted her a little, began as a physician to interrogate her respecting her disease. In a correct manner she told him the symptoms of it; then said with sighs and tears: "Ah! Sir, my disease springs from a cause too deep, and medicine cannot remedy it. I am the mother-the unhappy mother of two very wretched children. Their misfortunes and my own have struck too deep into this heart. Death alone can terminate my woes; and it makes me tremble for the desolation in which my poor children shall be left." With this, her tears increased; she told her misfortunes, which the supposed physician already knew, and which drew fresh tears to his eyes. He said to her at length; "Take courage, do not despair yet, Heaven will not leave you in forgetfulness. I compassionate your misfortunes; Providence is bountiful; you shall not be abandoned. In the meantime, be careful to preserve a life, which is so very precious for your two children. Have you any writing paper?" She tore a blank leaf from a book, on which the boy at the foot of the bed was reading. The stranger, after having written, said, "This remedy will yield you some relief: in a little we shall apply more effective medicine, be careful, and you shall shortly be well again." He left the note, which he had written, upon the table, and departed. The elder son returned a few minutes after. 66 My dear mother," said he, "keep up your spirits: Heaven has pity upon us. See the money which a gentleman has very generously given me this morning; it shall support us for a few days. I have gone for a physician, and he will be here in a little. Quiet your grief and be comforted." "Ah! Son!" the astonished mother replied "Come that I may embrace you! Heaven assists your innocence. Yes! Providence shall always protect us. A physician, with whom I am unacquainted, left me just now; his recipe is upon the table; go, bring me what he prescribes." Her son took up the note: perused it with great astonishment; he examined it, he read it again, then exclaimed, "O mother! What is this!" The mother, astonished and perplexed, took the paper and read it with impatience." Oh heaven! The Emperor!!"" Saying this, the paper fell from her hand, and she swooned away. The note was an order from Augustus II., in which he assigned her a livelihood from his private treasury. The physician came in time to recover the mother from the swoon into which surprise had cast her. The widow soon recovered her former health, as the principal cause of her affliction had been distress of mind. The generous monarch, loaded with praises and blessings, experienced the pleasure of having restored health and life, and of having rendered again comfortable and happy, an honest family, brought to misery by the sad reverses of fortune CRITICAL NOTICES. 1. The Young Man's Working Companion. The Physician:-I. Cholera. THIS is another of the valuable publications under the superinten dence of the "Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge." Nothing could be more appropriate at this season of contagion and alarm. By the assistance here furnished, the working classes, who are much exposed to infectious distempers, will be enabled to resist the malignant attacks of the pestilence. Recognizing the leading principle of the Temperance Societies-that it is easier to prevent than to cure—— "The Physician" communicates abundance of the best advice at the cheapest rate. 2. The Anatomy of Drunkenness. By Robert Macnish, Author of "The Philosophy of Sleep."-M Phun-Glasgow. A propos! Have the members of the Temperance Societies pos sessed themselves of this admirable volume? If not, it is full time they should. A better friend or a stauncher and abler advocate of their cause than Mr. Macnish does not exist. He is a man of science, and his book,-unlike the fry of pamphlets and duodecimos ever and anon sent down upon us from the shallow waters whose source is traceable to the cacoethes scribendi,—has all the freshness and plumpness of an inhabitant of the deep and vigorous streams of professional knowledge. A sound and searching sense, an erudite application of scientific principles, clear and nervous argument are the characteristics of the Anatomy of Drunkenness. 3. Considerations on the Moral Causes, Objects, and Preventives of Pestilence; to which are appended, from approved documents, "Direc tions for the Prevention and Treatment of Spasmodic Cholera." By the Rev. P. Macindoe, A. M. Chirnside.-T. Melrose-Berwick. Mr. Macindoe is, without doubt, a person of wonderful industry and good parts. How he contrives to perform the laborious duties of the sacred office and appear so often in the capacity of author at the same time, he himself best knows. He assuredly is master of some supereminent recipe for husbanding time. Be that as it may, he has written a great deal, and a great deal to the purpose. We confess to having sat down to the perusal of the little work beside us with a degree of prejudice, arising, in the first instance, from a sight of the title-page, which seemed to include a branch of enquiry beyond a clergyman's province, and which immediately suggested to our mind the Latin proverb-ne sutor ultra crepidam; and in the second, from a glance at the opening of the discourse, where we find |