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Rosa Centifolia.




(See Engraving.) Of all the flowers with which a kind Provi- { variety of the Rosa centifolia. It is generally dence has decked the earth, the rose is perhaps known by the name of the Moss Rose. The the most beautiful, and certainly none is so centifolia is a native of Asia, but was imported much admired. The genus to which it belongs into Europe at a very early period, and it now in botany is called Rosa, and it embraces a great embraces more than a hundred varieties, of which number of species, most of which are indigenous the moss rose is perhaps most generally admired. only on the eastern continent. L'nder these It has ever been an emblem of pure happiness, species, there are not less than two thousand and thus represents true religion, from which varieties; and as varieties in plants are the re- alone joy and peace flow as a river. A distin. sult mainly of cultivation, the number is guished poet, with a happy allusion to the em. increasing. It is stated in the Encyclopedia blem, has thus sung of this beautiful flower : Americana, on what authority we are not in

“Oh, I love the sweet blooming, the pretty moss rose; formed, that there are not above half a dozen

"Tis the type of true pleasure and perfected joy; species of the rose in the United States. The Oh, I envy each insect that dares to repose statement is incorrect. Modern botanists have 'Mid its leaves, or among its sost beauties to toy. enumerated some eighteen species, and ten of

“I love the sweet lily, so pure and so pale, these we have seen. The most attractive of With a bosom as fair as the new-fallen snows; this number are the eglantine or sweet brier, in Her luxuriant odors she spreads through the valebotany Rosa rubiginosa, and the wild rose, or

Yet e'en she must yield to my pretty moss rose. Rosa parviflora. There is also a beautiful spe- “Oh, I love the gay heart's ease, and violet blue, cies found only in the southern States, called

The sun-flower, and blue-bell, each flowret that blows, the Cherokee rose, or Rosa variegata. The

The fir tree, the pine tree, acacia, and yew

Yet must they all yield to my pretty moss rose. gwamp rose, which sometimes grows to the height of six feet, is a very common species in “ Yes, I love my moss rose, for it ne'er had a thorn; the northern States.

"Tis a type of life's pleasnres, unmixed with its woes;

"Tis inore gay and more bright than the opening inornThe engraving in the Magazine represents a Yes, all things must yield to my pretty mus



“One family,-we dwell in him;

One church, -above, beneath ;
Though now divided by the stream--

The narrow stream of death.
"One army of the living God,

To his command we bow;
Part of the host have crossed the flood,

And part are crossing now."

A Bort six years ago I was travelling on the borders of the Hudson, and on the most beautiful portion of that noble stream, where its waters seem to rest against the highlands of Fishkill and form the Newburgh Bay. I was riding on the western shore, dotted with elegant,country seats, and so elevated as to command a fine view of the opposite county of Dutchess. Passing a substantial mansion, I observed car.

riages standing around the entrance, and a hearse that plainly indicated the occasion of the gathering It was something more than curiosity, it was the dictate of natural sympathy, that induced me to stop and mingle with the multitude.

It was easy to learn from the first whom I addressed, that a young man, the son of parents now advanced in life, was to be buried. The

a few

clergyman in attendance was just closing his remarks when I stopped at the door, and after a short but eloquent pause in the services, for silence is always eloquent in the house of mourning, the afflicted father rose, and overcoming the emotion with which he struggled, spoke a few words to the friends that surrounded him. It was unusual, to me altoge. ther singular, for a parent thus to obtrude his grief upon the ear of the multitude, and the effect was therefore, on my mind, unfavorable ; but a moment dispelled the feeling, as he spoke, not of his sorrows, but of the consolation which a kind Providence had mingled with the bitterness of his grief. He had a family of sons growing up around him, and, said he, months ago one of them removed to the other side of the river, and resides on the shore in view of the spot where we are assembled. And now I find that my thoughts are over there far more frequently than they were before. I had friends there whom I loved, and I had an interest in the people, but I had no son there ; but since that child has been a resident beyond the river, my heart is there often and loves to be there. So it has been with me during the few days that have passed since this other son crossed the river of death and, as I trust, has entered into heaven. My thoughts are often there now. True, I had friends there before, a Father there ; but I had no child. Now I have an interest in heaven, such as I never felt till one of my own children went there to live !"

It was a sweet thought. As I left the door and walked down the avenue, I looked across the water, and the fields in the freshness of opening spring were smiling in the rays of the declining sun, and it struck me that that must be a pleasant land in which to live, and a pleasant spot for a father to look upon as the dwellingplace of his son. And then it was natural, atter what I had heard, to say:

"Sweet fields beyond ihe swelling flood

Stand dressed in living green;
So to the Jews old Canaan stood,

While Jordan rolled between." The attractions of heaven! Who, that has ever read, can forget the beauty of those conceptions with which the mind of Dr. Nevins was filled after his wife was taken to glory? We thought his mind was much on heaven before. He often spoke of it and wrote of it; but when one whom he loved so tenderly was introduced into its society, he thought there were attractions in heaven of which he had no previous comprehension. He had such an interest in it us he had not felt till then.

The husband of Wilberforce's sister, in a let

ter to that great and good man, years after her decease, speaks of the return of the day on which she entered heaven as a day of peculiar joy to the spirits that welcomed her to their bright company. He seemed to think that heaven must be a happier place for angels since one so lovely had joined them ; certainly he loved heaven more, and so must they.

But there was something in the thought of the bereaved father that had touched my heart, and made an impression not soon to be effaced. It was a similar thought that the Saviour gave to his disciples when he said, “ I go to prepare a place for you, that where I am there ye may be also.” The thought of re-union should comfort them while asunder, and the fact that Jesus was in heaven should be its chief attraction. So to every believer the presence of Christ is the crowning glory of heaven, and not the least of its anticipated joys is the meeting of those who have gone before.

"Oh, talk to me of heaven! I love
To hear about my home above ;
For there doth many a loved one dwell,

In light and joy ineffable." And though it is not to me a matter of the least importance whether or not in that better world the friendships of earth will be renewed in the purity of holiness and the strength of immortality, yet it is a source of well-founded hope that love is the native element of heaven, and that attachments formed or reformed there will never be dissolved.

“There is a world above,

Where parting is unknown ;
A long eternily of love

Forined for the good alone;
And faith beholds the dying here,

Translated to that glorious sphere." So when the fond parent commits to the dust the ashes of a beloved child, he follows, by faith, his spirit ascending to the innumerable company of the redeemed; he enters with him into the enjoyments of angels and saints; he becomes more familiar with the delights of heaven; in the midst of his daily cares, and especially when the calmness of evening settles on his dwelling, his heart wanders from earth and is at home with his child in glory. The parent is thus drawn upward, and the ties that fastened him to earth are weakened. He finds it good to be afflicted, and while one he loves so tenderly is there, he is ready to sing

“ Oh weep not for the friends that pass

Into the lonesome grave,
As breezes sweep the withered grass

Along the restless wave:
For thongh thy plea-ures may depart,

And darksome days be given,
And lonely though on earth thou art,

Yet bliss awaits the holy heart
When friends rejoin in heaven."

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