such as Burke, and Poythress, and Collins, and Bascom, and Parker, a fearless band-were bearing the messages of the Gospel, and the consolations of religion, to the pioneers on the verge of civilization.

CATALOGUE OF THE WHITE WATER COLLEGE for the year 1853-4.

Centerville, Ia.

This Catalogue shows the institution to be in a flourishing condition. Rev. Prof. Nutt, the President, is a devoted and enthusiastic educator, and the college, under his supervision, must prosper. We notice that our friend Bro. George B. Jocelyn is Professor of Mathematics and the Natural Sciences in the institution. The number of students in the primary, academic, and collegiate departments is two hundred and eighty-nine.

CATALOGUE of the Officers and Students of the Female College and Springfield High School. 1853-4.

From the above, we learn that the number of students in this highly flourishing college during the past year was greater than at any former time, being two hundred and twenty-seven. The course of study in the primary, preparatory, and collegiate departments is full and thorough. Under the superintendence of its learned and highly talented President, the Rev. J. W. Weakly, A. M., assisted by as fine a corps of instructors as the country can boast, we predict for this institution a brilliant career.

We had the honor of an invitation to attend and participate in the exercises at the late Commencement, but was Providentially detained. We learn, however, from those who were present on the occasion, that the exercises were of the most interesting character. The address to the graduating class by Mr. Baker, editor of the Scioto Gazette-a fine scholar and eloquent speaker-was everything that could be desired. The college edifice is being enlarged and remodeled, and from the engraving which accompanies the catalogue, it presents a chaste and beautiful appearance. It was designed by Mr. Tinsley, the finest architect in the western country, and will prove an ornament to the city of Springfield..

Speaking of colleges reminds us that we attended the annual Commencement of Professor Lippitt's Literary and Classical Institute. The exercises were held in the Melodeon Hall, and were attended by a large and highly intelligent audience. The Red Rover brass band discoursed excellent music, but we abhor a brass band in a house. Like the cannon, we think it better suited to the field, but tastes differ, and we are no connoisseur of the fine arts. The programme was unique, and as the pieces were designed to take off some of the humbugs of the day, notwithstanding the intense heat of the weather, many came to listen, and went away delighted with the performance. Prof. Lippitt is a fine classical scholar, and devoted to his profession. In a community where talents and worth are appreciated, he must succeed.

We have received the Twelfth Annual Catalogue of the Officers and Students of the Wesleyan Female College of this city. We noticed the exercises connected with this institution, in the last No. of the Casket. The number of pupils connected with this school, increases from year to year. The number in attendance the past year, was four hundred and seventy-nine.

We received also the Catalogue of Herron's Academy, located on Seventh street. This is an old institution and has received a large share of the public patronage, of which it is highly deserving.

With the sunny sparkles dancing round me, where the forest trees
Make a twilight in the noontide of the sultry August day;
In the cool delicious silence write I, Jessie, at mine ease,

Noting down the wayward fancies o'er my idle brain that stray.

I must tell you of a vision, wild and strange, yet wondrous fair.
Yestereve at chime of vesper to this self-same spot I stole,
While the voices of the chanters, floating on the sunset air,
Backward came like strains of angels to the rapt and dreaming soul.

On this bank of primrose blossoms I was lying, half in thought,
When a vague sweet sense, like slumber, of deep peace upon me fell—
And a Presence far exceeding all the beauty I have sought,

Stood before me. Was I dreaming, or unbodied? Who can tell?

Stood she in her regnant beauty, with her gold hair's wavy flow,
And her eyes serene and holy looking downward into mine :
While around us, through the forest, musically soft and low,
Angel voices rose and floated, whispering ever—“Eoline.”

Then my spirit, white and queenly, rose up from its cell of clay,
And I followed where the Presence beckoned with uplifted hands;
Toward the portals of the sunset floating on our silent way,

Paused we by a crystal river lapsing over silver sands.

Down its silvery current gliding, passed we through the realm of dreams.
Broken fragments of sweet singing chimed upon the charmed ear;
Thronging shapes of shadowy beauty, pictured in uncertain gleams
Of some far-off light, were dimly seen through all this haunted sphere.

Still, as if by spirit guidance, onward swept our fairy barque

To a realm whose wondrous glory must have blinded earthly eyes;
Therefore knew I why my spirit left its clay companion dark

While it wandered, rapt and 'wildered, in this unstained Paradise.
VOL. II-9

Drifting lightly shoreward, gently touched our barque the diamond strand, While a flood of morning sunlight turned the crystal stream to gold; Hill and valley, mount and river, over all that pleasant land

Lay rejoicing in its radiance, fearing neither blight nor cold.

Oh! the unimagined splendor of that realm of song and sun!

Stately fanes, with pictured windows, rose within the woodland's heart: Here the broken strains of dream-land have their full expression won; Here its vague yet glorious shadows into perfect beauty start.

In the midst uprose a temple far surpassing human skill;

Parian stone, inlaid with cedar, pillars flashing back the lightCrystal-domed, with mighty arches-spaces sound could scarcely fill; Sculpture wrought her grandest marvels here to charm the gazer's sight.

And within its golden portals spirits whose exceeding grace

Mocked the poet's dreams of splendor, walked apart-a radiant throng! From their lips outpouring ever songs that, soaring into space,

Held compressed the inwrought music of that marvelous realm of song.

How my glad harp thrilled exulting, as it mingled in the strain!
Then the angel presence left me, rising as on viewless wings;
But her voice came downward floating, scattering like golden rain
Blessing and farewell, whose music evermore around me rings.

Oh, the power, the light, the glory that upon my spirit lies!

To my earthly lute, dear Jessie, hath a charmed wire been given :
I would keep it pure and holy, that its dying tones may rise,
Mingling fitly with the angels when my soul takes flight to heaven.

You will say that fame awaits me. Pray for me its icy chill
Gather not so closely round me as to hold me from the sky:
That the old and true affections round my path may linger still,
Guarding me from aught of evil. Bless you, darling! so, good bye.

PART SECOND-EVA TO JESSIE.

Jessie, very dark and lonely is our humble home to-night;

She we have so loved and cherished leaves us in the world alone. Very pale and feeble grew she, fading daily in our sight;

Now the silver chord is loosened; and the prisoned bird has flown.

Young, and Oh, so rarely gifted! Was it strange that we should turn
From the warning voice that told us she was destined for the tomb?
That the flowers already blossomed which should strew her funeral urn,
And the ripening year should bring us Death amid the summer bloom?

When men marveled, by the wayside listening to her wondrous lay,
And Fame's laurel wreath was shading the pure whiteness of her brow,
Turned she smilingly, yet sadly, from the world's vain praise away,
Praying that the good she planted might bear fruit upon the bough.

Twining closer love's sweet tendrils round our humble cottage hearth,

She was happiest ever, singing to her lute the songs of home;
Yet we saw e'en love availed not to retain her on the earth,
For the angel of her vision nightly beckoned her to come.

So her soul rose up to follow, and she faded day by day,

Though her soul was clinging to us sadly, fondly till the last; From the gem within was falling the frail tenement of clay,

And its radiance shone out clearer as her days were fleeting fast.

"Eva, darling! we will wander to the primrose bank, for there
Came the blessed vision to me that has filled my life with peace.
Let me breathe my life out, darling, gently midst its odorous air,
While the vesper chimes are dying, and the chanters' voices cease.

"Weep not for me. You will join me, dear one, very soon. The while
Let my dying blessing guard you, Oh, my sister! from life's ill."
Then she spake of you, dear Jessie, saying with an earnest smile,
“Round the friends of early childhood how the old love lingers still."

So the sun went down in splendor, and across the forest came
From afar the chanters' voices, and the chime of vesper bells.
Eoline!" a voice of music seemed to syllable her name,

And her spirit joined the angels where Love knoweth no farewells.

The True Brotherhood.

CHAPTER IX.

THE SONG OF THE BOW.

The days of Israel's haughty monarch were numbered. Clouds of darkness were gathering around his destiny, and not a single ray of hope penetrated the midnight gloom which enveloped him. The wrath of the Philistines, which had been aroused by the successive victories achieved over them by the army of Israel, at length excited them to desperation, and they resolved to marshal their remaining forces, and concentrating all their energies, to make a last and desperate assault upon the enemy. Interposed between the valley of the Jordan and the plain of Esdraelon, which spreads out from its south-eastern base, rise the mountains of Gilboa. Here Saul and his army were encamped, awaiting the Philistine hosts who were in hot pursuit of the Israelites. The numerous desertions from Saul's army which we have already alluded to in the preceding chapter, together with the disaffection which prevailed among those who still clung to Israel's standard, had so weakened the forces of the king that nothing but a hearty and desperate resistance on the part of the army could save it from the power of the enemy. The mind of the king was tossed with fearful forebodings, and dark spirits hovered

round his frighted imagination. His unwise and cruel conduct had driven from his presence the only man who could have soothed his troubled spirits, and whose valiant arm had achieved for him so many signal victories. With him had fled many other choice spirits, and none remained on whom he could rely but Jonathan, his faithful son, who, notwithstanding his father's perverseness, had linked his destiny with that of his ill-fated parent.

At length the day of doom arrived, and the army of the Philistines was seen darkening the plain and valley below with its numerous warlike hosts. Onward they pour, like lions from the desert in search of their prey. A thousand archers whose arrows flew thick as hail in their midst, added to the spears and javelins which, descending, flashed in the light of the morning sun, shocked but stayed not their progress. Not an arrow was sped, nor a dart thrown by the advancing cohorts. At length they gain the summit, and flanking out on all sides, begin the attack with all the fury of madmen. Under other circumstances, it would have seemed as if the leader of the Philistine army had been infatuated, so wildly was the maneuver planned and so desperately was it carried out. But a divine hand was employing an agency for the accomplishment of its purposes. Saul had filled up the measure of his iniquities, and was about to receive the reward of his deeds. The deadly conflict waxed hotter and hotter; hundreds fell, slain in the strife. At last a cry and a shout rise simultaneously above the din of battle. Jonathan and his two brothers have fallen, and lie dead among the heaps of the slain. The sad intelligence comes to Saul, who has himself been severely wounded, having been several times pierced by arrows. Feeling that all was lost, and determining that he would not fall alive into the hands of the Philistines, he summoned his armor-bearer to his side and commanded him to thrust him through with his sword. This the armorbearer refused to do. Having resolved to die rather than be taken by the uncircumcised, he placed the handle of his own sword upon the ground, and falling upon the point, his heart was pierced, and he soon expired, exclaiming:

“My kingdom from me rent, my children slain,

My army lost, myself from hope cast out!

The seer hath spoken well; all is achieved.
David, thou art avenged!"

The armor-bearer on seeing this also took his own sword, and falling upon it, breathed his last by the side of his fallen monarch.

An Amalekite, on witnessing this last dreadful act in the drama of Saul's reign, immediately hastened to the fallen king, and snatching from his body the insignia of royalty, and taking the crown from his head, hurried from the scene of conflict. David was then at war with the