Thrice twenty summers I have seen The sky grow bright, the forest green; And many a wintry wind have stood In bloomless, fruitless solitude, Since childhood in my pleasant bower First spent its sweet and sportive hour, Since youthful lovers in my shade Their vows of truth and rapture made; And on my trunk's surviving frame Carved many a long-forgotten name. Oh! by the sighs of gentle sound, First breathed upon this sacred ground; By all that Love has whisper'd here, Or Beauty heard with ravished ear; As Love's own altar honor me: Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree! --_Thomas Campbell._ (This piece was written for Miss Mary Campbell, the poet's sister; it appeared first in the _Morning Chronicle_. The tree, the subject of the lines still ornaments the grounds at Ardwell, in Scotland, the seat of James Murray McCulloch, Esq.) 1950 Like a tree, am I sheltering others by my life? 1951 The greater the difficulty the more glory in surmounting it. Skilful pilots gain their reputation from storms and tempests. 1952 TROUBLE. When I waken in the morn I'm sad, I must confess, To think that ere I can go out I must get up and dress. 1953 _Deuteronomy xxii, 4._--"Thou shalt not see thy brother's ox or ass fall down by the way, and hide thyself from them; thou shalt surely help him lift them up again." Mr. George Herbert, the poet, when walking to Salisbury, saw a poor man, with a poorer horse, fallen under his load. Mr. Herbert perceiving this, put off his canonical coat, and helped the poor man to unload, and after to load his horse. The poor man blessed him for it, and he blessed the poor man, and gave him money to refresh both himself and his horse; and told him, "If he loved himself, he should be merciful to his beast." At his coming to his musical friends at Salisbury, they began to wonder that Mr. George Herbert, who used to be so clean, came in such a condition; but he told them the occasion; and when one of the company told him, "he had disparaged himself by so dirty an employment," his answer was, "That the thought of what he had done would prove music to him at midnight; and the omission of it would have upbraided and made discord in his conscience, whensoever he should pass by the place." 1954 I wrote down my troubles every day; And after a few short years, When I turned to the heart-aches passed away, I read them with smiles,--not tears. 1955 To tell our troubles, is often the way to lighten them. 1956 PERFECT TRUST AND RESIGNATION.