fair brow of Britannia-faith in the crucified Redeemer, the "Pearl of great price" shines conspicuous, and an unclasped Bible spreads light through the land. While these remain unshrouded and undimmed, Britain shall never fall in the scale of nations.-Let her but be true to her God, and He will never leave her, nor forsake her. Let her children contend valiantly beneath the banner of the Cross, for the inestimable jewel in Britannia's crown, which is seen even in the most distant, far-off lands, shining like a star in the dark blue sky, and illuming, with its soft light, what else would be the blackness of night; and no power either on earth or in hell shall rob them of their treasured gem; rather shall it grow brighter and brighter, until the Redeemer places it among the ornaments of His own crown, in that day when He maketh up His "jewels."

But, we must turn from dreams of the past and visions of the future; Time is speeding on its course, and the June of this year, with all her attendant beauties, will soon, too quickly, have passed away for ever; and we would fain, ere her last long evening closes, and the few brief hours of twilight almost deepen into night's darkness, wander forth into yon fair valley, and breathe the perfumed air. The busy hay-makers have left the fields, and peacefulness and quiet reign around. The toil and labour of the day is ended, and the labourer has retired to his lowly cottage. Lowly, it may be, in the eyes of Man; humble and insignificant, compared with the castellated mansion which is seen among the trees, not far from the poor man's thatched cottage; yet it may be that "the high and lofty One, that inhabiteth eternity,

whose name is Holy, who dwelleth in the high and holy place," has passed over the lofty embattled walls, and the lordly tenant of that splendid abode, to dwell with the poor cottager; for although Heaven is His throne, and the earth His footstool, He yet condescends to dwell with him that is of a contrite and humble spirit, and that trembleth at His Word.

No sounds of rustic merriment or childish glee, break the calm stillness; and at such a time, when memory, retracing some past event, gives back an ideal reality to a scene that has passed away for ever, we seem to see again the loved, familiar face; and again to hear the soft music of a voice, which had long been lost in the tomb; and, in revived imagery, all is restored to us, and falls on the senses with the sweetness of the Summer breeze sweeping the strings of an Eolian harp, and like an echo from some distant world. The lapse of years is forgotten, and once again we see the merry faces, and watch the light and sportive figures of those who made the hay-field ring with joyous gladness, in the days when our own hearts echoed the thrilling songs of pleasure which rose high and clear, and filled the air with melody.

But soon comes the thought—those days are gone for ever! and mixed with melancholy are the reflections that follow. Such meditations are not unseasonable accompaniments of thee, fair June! for thou art the prime of the year; a beautiful, but sad emblem of life. When thou art gone, the flowers begin to fade, and the days to shorten; and so, when Man has reached the meridian of life, though crowned with riches and honour,

he feels that his best days are over, and Autumn, and then the Winter, approaching.

Oh! then, let us gather the flowers that fade not: "the diamond glistens more brightly than the dew-drop, but it will not vanish beneath the sunbeam that it reflects; it tells of a sparkling fulness of joy that will not pass away. The emerald will preserve its cool green hue, when the leaves of Summer are withering on the ground -an emblem of hopes not of this world.

"The mines whence they were taken were dreary, and so is the hour of sorrow; but our Creator works wondrously in the hour of darkness, setting the soul free from the vanities of earth, and fixing it in holy contemplation upon Himself."

July.

""Twas a lovely thought to mark the hours,
As they floated in light away,

By the opening and the folding flowers,
That laugh to the Summer's day.

"Thus had each moment its own rich hue,
And its graceful cup and bell,

In whose coloured vase might sleep the dew,
Like a pearl in an ocean shell.

"To such sweet signs might the time have flowed

In a golden current on,

Ere from the garden, Man's first abode,
The glorious guests were gone.

"So might the days have been brightly told—
Those days of songs and dreams,—

When shepherds gathered their flocks of old,
By the blue Arcadian streams.

"So in those isles of delight, that rest
Far off in a breezeless main,

Which many a bark, with a weary guest,
Has sought, but still in vain.

"Yet is not life, in its real flight,

Marked thus-even thus-on earth
By the closing of one hope's delight,
And another's gentle birth?"

"Even so, Father, for so it seemeth good in Thy sight!" and is it not thus with the Months? The last closing hour of one, is the herald of the birth of another. Each, as we have said before, has its own peculiar beauties, and July has numberless ones to arrest the gaze, and to rivet the attention, of even a careless observer; but still, when June has passed away, though the roses yet unfold their perfumed petals, the glory of the year is gone; and July's warm sun shows Summer's flowers hanging their heads, as if in want of a spot whereon to lie down and die, and hide their fading beauty; nor can the knowledge that when the sun, pursuing his ceaseless course amid the hosts of heaven, again enters the bright constellation of Gemini, Summer will reign lovely as ever, and the flowers of June once more gladden our senses with their freshness and perfume, check the sigh that will follow the thought, Nature's Jubilee is over and gone.

The most interesting plants at this season are the sea-weeds-rather, we would call them flowers of the ocean; for a true lover of Nature could never gaze upon their singularly beautiful forms, their hair-like

* Mrs. Hemans.