falling fast,
Which grew of late so fresh and fair--
Too fair to last.

The mar of earth and canker-worm
The foliage bears;
So my poor life of sin and care
The impress wears.

As shine the leaves before they fall
With brighter hue,
And each defect of worm and time
Is lost to view,

So may my life, when fading, shine
With brighter ray,
And brighter still as nearer to
The perfect day.

And as new life still springs again
From fallen leaves,
And richer life a thousand-fold
From gathered sheaves;

So, God, if aught in me was good,
The good repeat,
And let me from my ashes breathe
An influence sweet.

W.

SKETCHES OF EASTERN TRAVEL.

III.--BANGKOK.

We left Singapore--which, though an English colony, is a very Babel of
languages and nations--in a Bombay merchantman, whose captain was an
Arab, the cook Chinese, and the fourteen men who composed the crew
belonged to at least half that many different nations, whilst our
party in the cabin were English, Scotch, French and American. After
eight days of rather stormy weather we disembarked at the mouth of
the Meinam River, thirty miles below the city of Bangkok. Owing to
the sandbar at the mouth, large vessels must either partially unload
outside, or wait for the flood-tide when the moon is full to pass the
bar; and to avoid the delay consequent upon either course, we took
passage for the city in a native sampan pulled by eight men with long
slender oars. The trip was a delightful one, giving us enchanting
glimpses of the grand old city long before we reached it. Amid the
mass of tropical foliage, gleaming out from among clustering palms
and graceful banians, we could discern the gilded spires of gorgeous
temples and palaces, of which Bangkok boasts probably not less than
two hundred. The temples, with their glittering tiles of green and
gold, and graceful turrets and pinnacles from which hang tiny tinkling
bells that ring out sweet music with every passing breeze, their tall,
slender pagodas and picturesque monasteries, stand all along the banks
of the river, its most conspicuous adornments. But pre-eminent, both
for height and splendor, is Wat Chang, visible, all but its base, from
the very mouth of the river. Its central spire, full three hundred
feet in height, towers grandly above the surrounding turrets and
pagodas, the white walls gleam