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THE SEVENTH DAY, 



(Paraphrase from Milton.) 



THE sun is set beneath the western wave : 

 O'er Eden's garden soft-wing'd twilight steals ; 

 Stars one by one, in golden clusters, pave 

 The darkening sky, while the lone night-bird peals 

 Her liquid harmony, and nature feels, 

 O night ! thy soothing power, and seeks repose. 

 Man to the God of darkness now appeals, 

 And in the south night's silver queen arose, 

 And o'er the sleeping world her cool, clear beams she throws. 



The night serenely pass'd the seventh day came, 

 And rosy dawn steals o'er the eastern sky : 

 Nature awakes, and breathes through all her frame 

 One sigh of prayer and praise to God most High. 

 Pleased with His works, thus spoke Eternity: 

 " This day be hallow'd, set apart for rest, 

 Sacred from toil in holy memory 

 Of this new world a world which we have bless'd. 

 The Sabbath we appoint, for man to be our guest" 



THE LAKES OF SCOTLAND. 



WHO has not heard of the Scottish Lakes? We had so often heard 

 the most glowing descriptions of their romantic and picturesque 

 scenery, that we determined in the summer of last year to enjoy the 

 luxury of a visit to them. High as were our expectations of plea- 

 sure from the ramble, the reality far exceeded it. Half the beauties 

 of the Scottish Lakes have not yet been told ; nor will they ever be ; 

 for no description, however graphic, can do any thing like justice to 

 them. 



The first lake we visited, as being nearest the Scottish metropolis, 

 was the celebrated Loch Leven. The day on which we first beheld 

 this vast expanse of water, with the delightful scenery which sur- 

 rounds it, was the 4th of June a day which never returns without 



