It was then that a venerable shepherd of five score years and ten, the patriarch of the village, spoke to them as follows:--“How much better, my friends, would it have been for us if we had acceded at first to the terms proposed by this reckless destroyer! Whether he was sincere or not, we could have easily established so vigilant a system of discipline with respect to him that he should not have had it in his power to injure us. Now, too late, we may deplore the evil that we cannot remedy. Ah, believe me, my friends, it is an unwise policy to drive the vicious to desperation: the hand of the outcast from society becomes at last armed against all mankind; he ceases after a season to distinguish between friends and enemies. Few, perhaps none, are so bad as to be utterly irreclaimable; and he who discourages the first voluntary efforts of the guilty towards reforming themselves, on the pretence that they are hypocritical, arrogates to himself that discrimination into motives which belongs alone to the Supreme Judge of all hearts, and becomes in a degree responsible for the ruinous consequences that are almost certain to result from his conduct.” M. TO KATHARINE. BY J. U. U. Believe not I forget thee: not for one Dark moment, have I been thus self-divided From that deep consciousness which is for ever The light of all my thoughts; it were to lose My own existence--a chill blank in life: For all is colourless when love deserts The heart--sole centre of all joy and woe; Whose light or gloom all nature wears. Believe My breast still weary till it turns to thee, The load-star of its constant faith--unchanged By distance or by time. For thee it cares: For thee its joys are treasured up untasted, As scattered sweets which the home-loving bee Hoards for its mossy dwelling far away. THE JERUSALEM ARTICHOKE.