Virtue may be assail'd, but never hurt,
Surprised by unjust force, but not enthrall'd;

Yea, even that, which mischief meant most harm,
Shall in the happy trial prove most glory:

But evil on itself shall back recoil,

And mix no more with goodness; when at last
Gather'd like scum, and settled to itself,
It shall be in eternal restless change
Self-fed, and self-consumed: if this fail,
The pillar'd firmament is rottenness,
And earth's base built on stubble.

I feel, my young friends, very greatly honoured in being allowed to copy, and send to you, through the pages of this "Juvenile Companion," such glorious and inspiring lines as are found in these choice extracts. But you must "read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest," the poetry of Milton for yourselves. I close my specimens on this head by the closing lines in Comus, uttered by the Good Spirit who rescued the captive lady

Mortals that would follow me,
Love virtue; she alone is free:
She can teach ye how to climb
Higher than the sphery clime:
Or if virtue feeble were,

Heaven itself would stoop to her.
(To be continued.)

I WISH I WAS A KING.

FATHER! I wish I was a king,
Immensely rich and great,
Surrounded by great lords and dukes
And councillors of state.

I'd have a stately palace built,
Magnificent and grand,

In some commanding spot of earth
On gently rising land.

Then, stretching far as eye can see,
On ev'ry hand around,

I'd have my gardens, shady walks,
And splendid park of ground.

My stud of horses I would keep,
With trappings gilt with gold,
My glitt'ring carriages of state
All glorious to behold.

Horse-guards and soldiers should attend
In royal pomp and state.
I'd have my keepers of my robes,
And lords-in-waiting great.

Books, stately furniture, and grand,
Most costly works of art;
Paintings and pictures framed in gold,
How glad would be my heart!

My table should be richly spread
With massive plates of gold,
And I would live on sumptuous fare
And all my great household.

I'd want for nothing that could swell
My royal dignity.

O, how I wish I was a king,

If

How happy I should be!

Stop, my dear boy," the father said, "Your foolish talk give o'er:

you had all this world could give, You still would wish for more.

The perishable things of earth

Can never satisfy

The vast desires that fill the soul,

Or fit it for the sky.

Man is immortal, stained by sin:
His sins must be forgiven:

He never can be happy here,
Till he is fit for heaven!"

W. I.

by Claudius, or by Nero. The island, we are told, was frequently chosen by the Roman emperors, as a place of confinement, to which persons charged with violating the Roman laws were banished.

The island is about fifty miles distant from the coast of Asia Minor; and is one of a cluster of islands called the Grecian Ar-chi-pela-go. Patmos is only about ten

miles long, and five miles wide, in the longest and widest parts. Its coasts have many coves, several of which are good harbours for vessels. The general aspect of the island is sterile, rocky, and mountainous. In one part, the island is nearly cut asunder by the indentations on the coasts; the width across the land, at this part, being, we are told, only about two hundred and fifty yards. The island does not produce sufficient food for its inhabitants, although the population is very small, consisting, it is said, of only a few hundred persons. Most of the men, who are natives of the island, are employed as seamen, and the women are chiefly engaged in making of cotton stockings. The island produces a great many turtles, rabbits, partridges, pigeons, quails, and snipes.

The town is built near the centre of the island, on a rocky mountain, which rises from the coast. The houses are well built. At the top of the mountain stands the monastery of St. John; it appears like a citadel, or place of military defence. The monastery, it is believed, was erected more than seven hundred years since; and was built as a place of refuge and defence for Christians, who were greatly exposed to molestations from the Turks. Dr. Clarke, an eminent traveller, describes the monastery as a powerful fortress, built on a high rock.

The islanders show a cavern in the mountain, designated the Holy Grotto, in which, they say, the Apostle John wrote his Gospel, and the Book of the Revelation. The cavern is about thirty-six feet wide, twenty feet in depth, and from ten to twelve feet high. The Greeks hold this cave in great veneration. We are not certain that the Apostle John wrote his Gospel and the Book of the Revelation in Patmos, but it is not improbable ;

ISLE OF PATMOS AND MONASTERY OF ST. JOHN.

143

and perhaps he wrote his Epistles, also, while he was there.

The Monastery of St. John was formerly richly endowed; at one time it had an annual income of thirteen thousand dollars: this, however, is now greatly reduced. The monastery is surrounded with high and strong walls; the chapel is small, but neat. Saint Christodoulos is said to have been the founder, and his body is kept in a shrine, and is exhibited to visitors, who present gratuities to the monk in attendance.

The Apostle John was very highly honoured by our Lord. John is designated the beloved disciple. He alone, of all the Apostles, appears to have remained with Christ at the time of his crucifixion; and Christ, when hanging on the cross, committed his own mother to the care of John. Christ said to his mother, "Woman, behold thy son;" and to John he said, “Behold thy mother." Thus did Jesus Christ manifest his love to his mother, and his confidence in the Apostle John; and by his example has taught us that we ought to care for the welfare of our parents. John was greatly honoured in being charged to comfort the mother of Jesus Christ. No doubt he afterwards cared for and supported her, as though she had been his own mother.

The Apostle John is supposed to have formed many of the Asiatic Churches; and was remarkable for his loving disposition. It is said, that when he was so aged and feeble as to be unable to say many words; he would be taken into the place where the Christians assembled, and would say, "Little children, love one another."

It is very uncertain how long he was in the isle of Patmos. Some assert that he was only there eighteen months, others say that he was there eighteen years. Equal uncertainty also exists as to the manner of his death. There is a tradition that he was thrown into a cauldron of boiling oil, and thus suffered martyrdom ; but another tradition affirms that the Apostle died at Ephesus, when he was about one hundred years old.