Thou watchman, on thy lonely round, I thank thee for that warning sound-- The clarion cock and the baying hound Not less their dreary vigils keep; Still hearkening, I will love you all, While in each silent interval I can hear those dear breasts rise and fall Upon the airy tide of Sleep. Old world, on Time's benighted stream Sweep down till the stars of morning beam From orient shores--nor break the dream That calms my love to pleasures deep; Roll on and give my Bud and Rose The fullness of thy best repose, The blessedness which only flows Along the silent realms of Sleep. A VISION. BY R. H. STODDARD. I saw the Past, in heaven a mighty train, A countless multitude of solemn years, Standing like souls of martyred saints, and tears Ran down their pallid cheeks like summer rain; They clasped and wrung their white hands evermore, Wailing, demanding vengeance on the world: And Judgment, with his garments sprinkled o'er With guilty blood, and dusky wings unfurled, And sword unsheathed, expectant of His nod, Stood waiting by the burning throne, and God Rose up in heaven in ire--but Mercy fair, A piteous damsel clad in spotless white, In supplication sweet and earnest prayer Knelt at his feet and clung around his robe of light. THE NEW ENGLAND FACTORY GIRL. A SKETCH OF EVERYDAY LIFE. BY MRS. JOSEPH C. NEAL. For naught its power to STRENGTH can teach Like EMULATION--and ENDEAVOR. SCHILLER. CHAPTER I. HOPING AND PLANNING. The family of Deacon Gordon were gathered in the large kitchen, at the commencement of the first snow-storm of the season. With what delight the children watched the driving clouds--and shouted with exultation as they tried to count the fleecy flakes floating gently to the earth--nestling upon its bleak, bare surface as if they would fain shield it with a pure and beautiful mantle. Faster and faster came the storm, even the deacon concluded that it would amount to something, after all; perhaps there might be sleighing on Thanksgiving-day; though he thought it rather uncertain. His wife did not reply, she was bidding the children be a little less noisy in their mirth. "We can get out our sleds in the morning, can't we, Mary?" said Master Ned. "I'm so glad you finished my mittens last Saturday. I told Tom Kelly I hoped it would snow soon, for I wanted to see how warm they were. Wont I make the ice-balls fly!"