Though bound to the world by the heart's dearest ties,
Though earth's fairest scenes are outspread to my eyes,
Oh never, my Father! permit me to be
Found trusting to reeds—let me lean upon thee.
And in that dread hour when my aw'd soul may stay
No longer on earth, but is summon'd away—
Amid those great scenes which no mortal may see,
Let me know naught of fear, as I lean upon thee!
G. P. T.
[MR. AND MRS. TOMPKINS.]
A SIMPLE TALE.[1]
BY THE LATE ROBERT C. SANDS, ESQ., AUTHOR OF 'YAMOYDEN,' ETC.
In a certain village—pleasant enough to behold, as you ride or walk through it, but abominably unpleasant to remain in, on account of the unconquerable propensity of its inhabitants for scandal and tittle-tattle, which prevails to a degree infectious even among decent people—in this village, about ten years ago, a man and his wife, of plain appearance, both in person and dress, came to reside, having the fear of God before their eyes; and in that fear, I trust, they died. But they were the subjects of much speculation; and the presidential question has not, to my certain knowledge, called forth so much original argumentation among the people of that village, as did the arrival of this couple; unpretending, unquaint, and inoffensive as they were.
They came in a stage, with but small incumbrance of luggage for persons who meant to remain in one place for any long time; and according to an arrangement previously made, took up their quarters in the house of a respectable widow, whose modest mansion afforded to them the only room they wanted, and whose modest circumstances made their coming to board with her, in that single room, a decided convenience.
The fact being ascertained, in an hour's time, throughout the village, that the widow Wilkins had got two boarders who were to occupy her spare room, it became a subject of conversation at the post-office, the tavern, the grocery, the prayer-meeting, and in every domestic circle. But nobody was able, that evening, to throw light upon the question of who the new comers were; and conjecture was left free to range through the mazes of its own world of imagination.