PART SECOND. (continued 6)

LESSON XCIX.

CHIV' AL ROUS, gallant; heroic. HAL' LOW, consecrate; keep sacred. MER' CE NA RY, mean; venal. AD VEN' TUR ER, fortune-seeker. VAN' QUISH ED, conquered. OUT' CAST, exile; castaway. TRAP' PINGS, ornaments; equipments. CRU SADE', battle zealously. CA REER' ED, moved rapidly. PHAL' ANX, compact body of men. TRANS PORT' ING, exulting. TRO PHIES, memorials of victory. PA' GEANT, pompous; showy. MIN' ION, favorite.

LA FAYETTE.

CHARLES SPRAGUE.

1. While we bring our offerings for the mighty of our own land, shall we not remember the chivalrous spirits of other shores, who shared with them the hour of weakness and woe'? Pile to the clouds the majestic column of glory`; let the lips of those who can speak well, hallow each spot where the bones of your bold repose`; but forget not those who, with your bold, went out to battle.

2. Among those men of noble daring, there was one, a young and gallant stranger, who left the blushing vine-hills of his delightful France. The people whom he came to succor, were not his people; he knew them only in the melancholy story of their wrongs. He was no mercenary adventurer, striving for the spoil of the vanquished; the palace acknowledged him for its lord, and the valley yielded him its increase. He was no nameless man, staking life for reputation; he ranked among nobles, and looked unawed upon kings.

3. He was no friendless outcast, seeking for a grave to hide a broken heart; he was girdled by the companions of his childhood; his kinsmen were about him; his wife was before him. Yet from all these loved ones he turned away. Like a lofty tree that shakes down its green glories, to battle with the winter storm, he flung aside the trappings of place and pride, to crusade for Freedom, in Freedom's holy land. He came`; but not in the day of successful rebellion', not when the new-risen sun of Independence had burst the cloud of time, and careered to its place in the heavens'.

4. He came when darkness curtained the hills, and the tempest was abroad in its anger`; when the plow stood still in the field of promise, and briers cumbered the garden of beauty`; when fathers were dying, and mothers were weeping over them`; when the wife was binding up the gashed bosom of her husband, and the maiden was wiping the death-damp from the brow of her lover`. He came when the brave began to fear the power of man, and the pious to doubt the favor of God. It was then that this one joined the ranks of a revolted people.

5. Freedom's little phalanx bade him a grateful welcome. With them he courted the battle's rage; with theirs, his arm was lifted; with theirs, his blood was shed. Long and doubtful was the conflict. At length, kind Heaven smiled on the good cause, and the beaten invaders fled. The profane were driven from the temple of Liberty, and, at her pure shrine, the pilgrim-warrior, with his adored commander, knelt and worshiped. Leaving there his offering, the incense of an uncorrupted spirit, he at length rose, and, crowned with benedictions, turned his happy feet toward his long-deserted home.

6. After nearly fifty years, that one has come again. Can mortal tongue tell? can mortal heart feel, the sublimity of that coming? Exulting millions rejoice in it; and their loud, long, transporting shout, like the mingling of many winds, rolls on, undying, to Freedom's farthest mountains. A congregated nation comes around him. Old men bless him, and children reverence him. The lovely come out to look upon him; the learned deck their halls to greet him; the rulers of the land rise up to do him homage.

7. How his full heart labors! He views the rusting trophies of departed days; he treads the high places where his brethren molder; he bends before the tomb of his "father;" [Footnote: Washington] his words are tears,—the speech of sad remembrance. But he looks round upon a ransomed land and a joyous race; he beholds the blessings these trophies secured, for which these brethren died, for which that "father" lived; and again his words are tears,—the eloquence of gratitude and joy.

8. Spread forth creation like a map; bid earth's dead multitudes revive; and of all the pageant splendors that ever glittered to the sun, when looked his burning eye on a sight like this? Of all the myriads that have come and gone, what cherished minion ever ruled an hour like this? Many have struck the redeeming blow for their own freedom; but who, like this man, has bared his bosom in the cause of strangers?

9. Others have lived in the love of their own people; but who, like this man, has drank his sweetest cup of welcome with another? Matchless chief! of glory's immortal tablets there is one for him, for him alone! Oblivion shall never shroud its splendor; the everlasting flame of Liberty shall guard it, that the generations of men may repeat the name recorded there, the beloved name of LA FAYETTE.

QUESTIONS.—1. Of what country was La Fayette a native? 2. What was his position at home? 3. In what condition was this country when he came to join our army? 4. How many years after, before he revisited this country? 5. What demonstrations were manifested by the people? 6. What is said of his fame?

LESSON C.

PRO FU' SION, abundance; variety. CON FU' SION, intricacy; indistinct movement. COM MO TION, agitation; shaking. RE SULT', effect. DI MIN' ISH, lessen. MYS' TER Y, maze; secrecy. HIS' TO RY, plain matter of fact. PA' GES, boy-servants; attendants. SPAR' RING, boxing; disputing. PUP' PETS, dolls; small figures of persons. FIN ISH, completion. GLO' RI OUS, grand; splendid. RE JECT, refuse; deny. RE FLECT' ED, turned back; borrowed.

THE MYSTIC WEAVER.

REV. DR. HARBAUGH.

QUESTIONS.—1. Describe the process of weaving. 2. Who are weaving the web of history?

LESSON CI.

CON FOUND', perplex; confuse. WOOF, cloth; texture. RAR' ER, scarcer; more excellent. PRAI' RIES, large tracts of land, with few trees, and covered with grass. SAV' AGE, wild; uncultivated. SAVAN'NA, open meadow or plain. PI O NEERS', persons that go before to prepare the way for others. SCOUTS, spies. HEART' EN, encourage. SCAN' NED, closely examined. CLEAV' ING, parting; separating. HOL' I DAY, day of rest or joy.

WORK AWAY.

HARPERS' MAGAZINE.

LESSON CII.

PROP O SI' TION, proposal. AD HE' SION, attraction. AB SURD I TY, folly; nonsense. VIS' ION ARY, fanciful; imaginary. DIS CUS' SION, debate; controversy. THE' O RY, idea; scheme of doctrine. AM BAS' SA DOR, messenger; deputy. NAV' I GA TORS, voyagers; seamen. SPEC U LA' TION, theory; mental view. EN' TER PRISE, attempt; undertaking. FRI VOL' I TY, levity; triflingness. PRE SENT' I MENT, previous notice. AN TIP' O DES, (ANTI, opposite; PODES, the feet;) having their feet opposite to ours; that is, living on the other side of the earth.

[Headnote 1: GEN O ESE', a native of Genoa,—a famous fortified seaport city in Northern Italy.]

[Headnote 2: LAC TAN' TIUS, one of the fathers of the Latin church, born about the year A.D. 250. He was celebrated as a teacher of eloquence, and before his conversion to Christianity, had so successfully studied the great Roman orator that he afterwards received the appellation of the "Christian Cicero."]

QUEEN ISABELLA'S RESOLVE.

FROM VINET.

QUEEN ISABELLA OF SPAIN, DON GOMEZ, AND COLUMBUS.

Isabella. And so, Don Gomez, it is your conclusion that we ought to dismiss the proposition of this worthy Genoese.[Headnote 1]

Don Gomez. His scheme, your majesty, seems to me fanciful in the extreme; but I am a plain matter-of-fact man, and do not see visions and dreams, like some.

Isa. And yet Columbus has given us cogent reasons for believing that it is practicable to reach the eastern coast of India by sailing in a westerly direction.

Don G. Admitting that his theory is correct, namely, that the earth is a sphere, how would it be possible for him to return, if he once descended that sphere in the direction he proposes`? Would not the coming back be all up-hill'? Could a ship accomplish it with even the most favorable wind'?

Columbus. Will your majesty allow me to suggest that, if the earth is a sphere, the same laws of adhesion and motion must operate at every point on its surface; and the objection of Don Gomez would be quite as valid against our being able to return from crossing the Strait of Gibraltar.

Don G. This gentleman, then, would have us believe the monstrous absurdity, that there are people on the earth who are our antipodes,—who walk with their heads down, like flies on the ceiling.

Col. But, your majesty, if there is a law of attraction which makes matter gravitate to the earth, and prevents its flying off into space, may not this law operate at every point on the round earth's surface'?

Isa. Truly, it so seems to me; and I perceive nothing absurd in the notion that this earth is a globe floating or revolving in space.

Don G. May it please your majesty, the ladies are privileged to give credence to many wild tales which we plain matter-of-fact men can not admit. Every step I take, confutes this visionary idea of the earth's rotundity. Would not the blood run into my head, if I were standing upside down! Were I not fearful of offending your majesty, I would quote what the great Lactantius[Headnote 2] says.

Isa. We are not vain of our science, Don Gomez; so let us have the quotation.

Don G. "Is there any one so foolish," he asks, "as to believe that there are antipodes with their feet opposite to ours,—that there is a part of the world in which all things are topsy-turvy, where the trees grow with their branches downward, and where it rains, hails, and snows, upward'?"

Col. I have already answered this objection. If there are people on the earth who are our antipodes, it should be remembered that we are theirs also.

Don G. Really, that is the very point wherein we matter-of-fact men abide by the assurance of our own senses. We know that we are not walking with our heads downward.

Isa. To cut short the discussion, you think that the enterprise which the Genoese proposes, is one unworthy of our serious consideration; and that his theory of an unknown shore to the westward of us is a fallacy.

Don G. As a plain matter-of-fact man, I must confess that I so regard it. Has your majesty ever seen an ambassador from this unknown coast?

Isa. Don Gomez, do you believe in the existence of a world of spirits? Have you ever seen an ambassador from that unknown world?

Don G. Certainly not. By faith we look forward to it.

Isa. Even so by faith does the Genoese look forward, far over misty ocean, to an undiscovered shore.

Col. Your majesty is right; but let it be added that I have reasons, oh! most potent and resistless reasons, for the faith that is in me: the testimony of many navigators who have picked up articles that must have drifted from this distant coast: the nature of things, admitting that the earth is round: the reports current among the people of one of the northern nations, that many years ago their mariners had sailed many leagues westward till they reached a shore where the grape grew abundantly; these and other considerations have made it the fixed persuasion of my mind, that there is a great discovery reserved for the man who will sail patiently westward, trusting in God's good providence, and turning not back till he has achieved his purpose.

Don G. Then truly we should never hear of him again. Speculation! mere speculation, your majesty! When this gentleman can bring forward some solid facts that will induce us plain matter-of-fact men to risk money in forwarding his enterprise, it will then be time enough for royalty to give it heed. Why, your majesty, the very boys in the streets point at their foreheads as he passes along.

Isa. And so you bring forward the frivolity of boys jeering at what they do not comprehend, as an argument why Isabella should not give heed to this great and glorious scheme? Ay, sir, though it should fail, still, it has been urged in language so intelligent and convincing, by this grave and earnest man, whom you think to undervalue by calling him an adventurer, that I am resolved to test the "absurdity," as you style it, and that forthwith.

Don G. Your majesty will excuse me if I remark, that I have from your royal consort himself the assurance that the finances are so exhausted by the late wars, that he can not consent to advance the necessary funds for fitting out an expedition of the kind proposed.

Isa. Be mine, then, the privilege! I have jewels, by the pledging of which I can raise the amount required; and I have resolved that they shall be pledged to this enterprise, without any more delay.

Col. Your majesty shall not repent your heroic resolve. I will return, your majesty; be sure I will return, and lay at your feet such a jewel as never queen wore yet, an imperishable fame,—a fame that shall couple with your memory the benedictions of millions yet unborn, in climes yet unknown to civilized man. There is an uplifting presentiment in my mind, a conviction that your majesty will live to bless the hour you came to this decision.

Don G. A presentiment? A plain matter-of-fact man, like myself, must take leave of your majesty, if his practical common-sense is to be met and superseded by presentiments! An ounce of fact, your majesty, is worth a ton of presentiment.

Isa. That depends altogether upon the source of the presentiment, Don Gomez. If it come from the Fountain of all truth, shall it not be good?

Don G. I humbly take my leave of your majesty.

QUESTIONS.—1. What reasons did Don Gomez advance in proof that the earth is not a sphere? 2. What argument did Columbus present in proof that it was? 3. What did Queen Isabella resolve to do?

LESSON CIII.

CON FIRM' ING, corroborating. AS SUR AN CES, assertions. MU TI NEER', one who resists orders. IN FER' RED, concluded. CRAV' ED, begged. AS SO' CIA TING, joining; connecting. EX PEC TA' TION, hope; a looking for. VER' I FIED, made true; realized. PHOS PHO RES' CENCE, faint light. HES I TA' TION, doubt. EN JOIN' ING, commanding; ordering. AM PHI THE' A TER, circular theater. CON TR AST' ED, set in opposition. DE MEAN' OR, behavior. DE FAULT', defect; absence. IN SIG' NIA, marks; signs. IN I' TIALS, first letters. DEV AS TA TION, a laying waste.

DISCOVERY OF THE NEW WORLD.

LAMARTINE.

1. At sunrise, on the second day, some rashes recently torn up, were seen near the vessels. A plank, evidently hewn by an ax, a stick skillfully carved by some cutting instrument, a bough of hawthorn in blossom,—and lastly, a bird's nest built on a branch which the wind had broken, and full of eggs, on which the parent bird was sitting amid the gently-rolling waves,—were seen floating past on the waters. The sailors brought on board these living and inanimate witnesses of their approach to land. They were a voice from the shore, confirming the assurances of Columbus. Before the land actually appeared in sight, its neighborhood was inferred from these marks of life.

2. The mutineers fell on their knees before the Admiral, whom they had insulted but the day before, craved pardon for their mistrust, and struck up a hymn of thanksgiving to God for associating them with this triumph. Night fell on these songs welcoming a new world. The Admiral gave orders that the sails should be close-reefed, and the lead kept going; and that they should sail slowly, being afraid of breakers and shoals, and feeling certain that the first gleam of daybreak would discover land under their bows.

3. On the last anxious night none slept. Impatient expectation had removed all heaviness from their eyes; the pilots and the seamen, clinging about the masts, yards, and shrouds, each tried to keep the best place and the closest watch to get the earliest sight of the new hemisphere. The Admiral had offered a reward to the first who should cry Land, provided his announcement was verified by its actual discovery.

4. Providence, however, reserved to Columbus himself this first glimpse, which he had purchased at the expense of twenty years of his life, and of untiring perseverance. While walking the quarter-deck alone, at midnight, and sweeping the dark horizon with his keen eye, a gleam of fire passed and disappeared, and again showed itself on the level of the waves. Fearful of being deceived by the phosphorescence of the sea, he quietly called a Spanish gentleman of Isabella's court, in whom he had more confidence than in the pilots, pointed out the direction in which he had seen the light, and asked him whether he could discern any thing there.

5. He replied that he did, indeed, see a flickering light in that quarter. To make the fact still more sure, Columbus called another in whom he had confidence to look in the same direction. He said he had no hesitation in pronouncing that there was a light on the horizon. But the blaze was hardly seen before it again disappeared in the ocean, to show itself anew the next moment. Whether it was the light of a fire on a low shore, alternately appearing and disappearing beyond the broken horizon, or whether it was the floating beacon of a fisherman's boat now rising on the waves, and now sinking in the trough of the sea, they could not determine.

6. Thus both land and safety appeared together in the shape of fire to Columbus and his two friends, on the night between the 11th and 12th of October, 1492. The Admiral, enjoining silence, kept his observation to himself, for fear of again raising false hopes, and giving a bitter disappointment to his ships' companies. He lost sight of the light, and remained on deck until two in the morning,—praying, hoping, and despairing alone, awaiting the triumph or the return on which the morrow was to decide.

7. He was seized with that anguish which precedes the great discoveries of truth, when, suddenly, a cannon-shot, sounding over the sea, a few hundred yards in advance of him, burst upon his ear the announcement of a new-born world, which made him tremble, and fall upon his knees. It was the signal of land in sight! made by firing a shot, as had been arranged with the Pinta, which was sailing in advance of the squadron, to guide their course and take soundings.

8. At this signal a general shout of "Land ho!" arose from all the yards and riggings of the ships. The sails were furled, and daybreak was anxiously awaited. The mystery of the ocean had breathed its first whisper in the bosom of night. Daybreak would clear it up openly to every eye. Delicious and unknown perfumes reached the vessels from the outline of the shore, with the roar of the waves upon the reefs and the soft land breeze.

9. The fire seen by Columbus indicated the presence of man, and of the first element of civilization. Never did the night appear so long in clearing away from the horizon; for this horizon was to Columbus and his companions a second creation of God. The dawn, as it spread over the sky, gradually raised the shores of an island from the waves. Its distant extremities were lost in the morning mist. It ascended gradually, like an amphitheater, from the low beach to the summit of the hills, whose dark-green covering contrasted strongly with the blue heavens.

10. Within a few paces from where the foam of the waves breaks on the yellow sand, forests of tall and unknown trees stretched away, one above another, over the successive terraces of the island. Green valleys and bright clefts in the hollows, afforded a half glimpse into these mysterious wilds. Here and there could be discovered a few scattered huts, which, with their outlines and roofs of dry leaves, looked like bee-hives, and thin columns of blue smoke rose above the tops of the trees. Half-naked groups of men, women, and children, more astonished than frightened, appeared among the thickets near the shore, advancing timidly, and then drawing back, exhibiting, by their gestures and demeanor, as much fear as curiosity and wonder, at the sight of these strange vessels, which the previous night had brought to their shores.

11. Columbus, after gazing in silence on this foremost shore of the land so often determined by his calculations, and so magnificently colored by his imagination, found it to exceed even his own expectations. He burned with impatience to be the first European to set foot on the sand, and to plant the flag of Spain,—the standard of the conquest of God and of his sovereigns, effected by his genius. But he restrained the eagerness of himself and of his crew to land, being desirous of giving to the act of taking possession of a new world, a solemnity worthy of the greatest deed, perhaps, ever accomplished by a seaman; and, in default of men, to call God and His angels, sea, earth, and sky, as witnesses of his conquest of an unknown hemisphere.

12. He put on all the insignia of his dignities as Admiral of the Ocean, and the Viceroy of these future realms; he wrapped himself in his purple cloak, and taking in his hand an embroidered flag, in which the initials of Ferdinand and Isabella were interlaced, like their two kingdoms, and, surmounted by a crown, he entered his boat, and pulled toward the shore, followed by the boats of his two lieutenants.

13. On landing, he fell on his knees, to acknowledge, by this act of humility and worship, the goodness and greatness of God in this new sphere of His works. He kissed the ground, and, with his face on the earth, he wept tears of double import, as they fell on the dust of this hemisphere, now, for the first time, visited by Europeans,—tears of joy for the overflowing of a proud spirit, grateful and pious,—tears of sadness for this virgin soil, seeming to foreshadow the calamities, and devastation, with fire and sword, and blood and destruction, which the strangers were to bring with their pride, their knowledge, and their power.

14. It was the man that shed these tears; but it was the earth that was destined to weep. As Columbus raised his forehead from the dust, with a Latin prayer, which his companions have handed down to us, he thus addressed the Sovereign Ruler of the world: (sl.) "Almighty and eternal God, who, by the energy of thy creative word, hast made the firmament, the earth, and sea, blessed and glorified be Thy name in all places! May Thy majesty and dominion be exalted forever and ever, as Thou hast permitted Thy holy name to be made known and spread by the most humble of Thy servants, in this hitherto unknown portion of Thy empire."

15. He then gave to this land the name of San Salvador. His lieutenants, his pilots, and his seamen, full of gladness, and impressed with a superstitious respect for him whose glance had pierced beyond the visible horizon, and whom they had offended by their unbelief,—overcome by the evidence of their eyes, and by that mental superiority which overawes the minds of men,—fell at the feet of the Admiral, kissed his hands and his clothes, and recognized, for a moment, the power and the almost divine nature of genius; yesterday the victims of his obstinacy,—now the companions of his success, and sharers in the glory which they had mocked. Such is humanity,—persecuting discoverers, yet reaping the fruits of their inventions.

QUESTIONS.—1. What evidences had Columbus that land was near? 2. What did the mutineers do? 3. In what month and year was the new world discovered? 4. What is said of the natives? 5. What did Columbus do on landing? 6. What was the conduct of the officers and seamen?

LESSON CIV.

FER' MENT, heat; glow. EN THU' SI ASM, excitement. PRO DIG' IOUS, very great. SPEC I MENS, samples. LEAGU' ED, joined; banded. PER SUAD' ED, convinced. PRE POS' TEROUS, absurd; ridiculous. VAUNT' ED, boasted. DE LU' SION, deception. CRED' U LOUS, apt to believe. UN RE LI' A BLE, untrustworthy. SUS PI'' CION, doubt; mistrust.

THE RETURN OF COLUMBUS.

VINET.

DON GOMEZ AND HIS SECRETARY.

Don Gomez. WHAT! what is this you tell me? Columbus returned? A new world discovered? Impossible!

Secretary. It is even so, sir. A courier arrived at the palace but an hour since with the intelligence. Columbus was driven by stress of weather to anchor in the Tagus. All Portugal is in a ferment of enthusiasm, and all Spain will be equally excited soon. The sensation is prodigious!

Don G. Oh, it is a trick! It must be a trick!

Sec. But he has brought home the proofs of his visit,—gold and precious stones, strange plants and animals; and, above all, specimens of a new race of men, copper-colored, with straight hair.

Don G. Still I say, a trick! He has been coasting along the African shore, and there collected a few curiosities, which he is passing off for proofs of his pretended discovery.

Sec. It is a little singular that all his men should be leagued with him in keeping up so unprofitable a falsehood.

Don G. But 'tis against reason, against common sense, that such a discovery should be made.

Sec. King John of Portugal has received him with royal magnificence, has listened to his accounts, and is persuaded that they are true.

Don G. We shall see, we shall see. Look you, sir, a plain matter-of-fact man, such as I, is not to be taken in by any such preposterous story! This vaunted discovery will turn out no discovery at all.

Sec. The king and queen have given orders for preparations on the most magnificent scale for the reception of Columbus.

Don G. What delusion! Her majesty is so credulous. A practical, common-sense man, like myself, can find no points of sympathy in her nature.

Sec. The Indians on board the returned vessels, are said to be unlike any known race of men.

Don G. Very unreliable all that! I take the common-sense view of the thing. I am a matter-of-fact man; and do you remember what I say, it will all turn out a trick! The crews may have been deceived. Columbus may have steered a southerly course, instead of a westerly. Any thing is probable, rather than that a coast to the westward of us has been discovered.

Sec. I saw the courier, who told me he had conversed with all the sailors; and they laughed at the suspicion that there could be any mistake about the discovery, or that any other than a westerly course had been steered.

Don G. Still I say, a trick! An unknown coast reached by steering west? Impossible! The earth a globe, and men standing with their heads down in space? Folly! An ignorant sailor from Genoa in the right, and all our learned doctors and philosophers in the wrong? Nonsense! I'm a matter-of-fact man, sir. I will believe what I can see, and handle, and understand. But as for believing in the antipodes, or that the earth is round, or that Columbus has discovered land to the west,— Ring the bell, sir; call my carriage; I will go to the palace and undeceive the king.

LESSON CV.

HAR' BIN GER, forerunner; precursor. UN PIL' LAR ED, unsupported by pillars. UN YIELDING, stubborn. DE CREES', edicts; laws. HAL' LOW ED, sacred; consecrated. MOLD' ER ING, decaying.

TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO,

GRENVILLE MULLEN.

QUESTIONS.—1. Who are meant by godlike men of old? 2. Why did they flee to this country? 3. Who warred against them?

LESSON CVI.

SE RENE' LY, calmly; quietly. SUR MOUNT', rise above; overcome. TRAMP, tread, or travel. EB' ON, black, as ebony. GUARD' I AN, defender; protector. CHIV' AL RIC, brave; heroic. MAIL, defensive armor. EX ALT', lift up. FRAIL' TY, weakness. BLIGHT' ED, blasted. RE NOWN', fame; celebrity. STEAD' FAST, firm; resolute. IN TER VENE', (INTER, between; VENE, to come;) come between; interpose. SUC CEED', (SUC, after; CEED, to come;) come after; follow.

PRESS ON.

PARK BENJAMIN.

QUESTIONS.—1. What encouragement is given to those who press on? 2. Who fails, and who wins? 3. What is said of those who never dread to meet danger and death? 4. How are they rewarded, who press on?

LESSON CVII.

EX PAND, develop; enlarge. EL E VATE, raise; dignify. VAR RI A BLE, changeable. PHAN TAS MA GO' RIA, magic lantern; illusive representations. UN' DU LA TING, waving; irregular. MO BIL'I TY, movableness; readiness to move. DO' CILE, teachable; obedient. CE LES' TIAL, heavenly. DIS' SI PATES, scatters, or confuses. IN FIN' I TY, boundlessness. GYM NAS' TIC, athletic exercise. O PAC' I TY, state of being opaque or dark. PA THET' IC, feeling; tender. IN DOM' I TA BLE, unconquerable. CO-OP' ER ATE, work with; join with. MOUNT PER' DU, one of the high summits of the Pyrenees mountains, in Spain. The name signifies "Lost Mountain;" in allusion, probably, to its peak being lost in the clouds.

THE THREE FORMS OF NATURE.

FROM THE FRENCH OF MICHELET.

1. There are three forms of Nature, which especially command and elevate our souls, release her from her heavy clay and earthly limits, and send her, exulting, to sail amidst the wonders and mysteries of the Infinite. First, there is the unstable Ocean of Air with its glorious banquet of light, its vapors, its twilight, and its shifting phantasmagoria of capricious creatures, coming into existence only to depart the next instant.

2. Second, there is the fixed Ocean of the Earth, its undulating and vast waves, as we see them from the tops of "the earth o'er gazing mountains," the elevations which testify to antique mobility, and the sublimity of its mightier mountain-tops, clad in eternal snows. Third, there is the Ocean of Waters, less mobile than air, less fixed than earth, but liable, in its movements, to the celestial bodies.

3. These three things form the gamut by which the Infinite speaks to our souls. Nevertheless, let us point out some very notable differences. The Air-ocean is so mobile that we can scarcely examine it. It deceives; it decoys; it diverts; it dissipates, and breaks up our chain of thought.

4. For an instant, it is an immense hope, the day of all infinity; anon, it is not so; all flies from before us, and our hearts are grieved, agitated, and filled with doubt. Why have I been permitted to see for a moment that immense flood of light? The memory of that brief gleaming must ever abide with me, and that memory makes all things here on earth look dark.

5. The fixed Ocean of the mountains is not thus transient or fugitive; on the contrary, it stops us at every step, and imposes upon us the necessity of a very hard, though wholesome gymnastic. Contemplation here has to be bought at the price of the most violent action. Nevertheless, the opacity of the earth, like the transparency of the air, frequently deceives and bewilders us. Who can forget that for ten years, Ramon, in vain, sought to reach Mount Perdu though often within sight of it?

6. Great, very great, is the difference between the elements; the earth is mute and the ocean speaks. The ocean is a voice. It speaks to the distant stars; it answers to their movements in its deep and solemn language. It speaks to the earth on the shores, replying to the echoes that reply again; by turns wailing, soothing, threatening—its deepest roar is presently succeeded by a sad, pathetic silence.

7. And it especially addresses itself to man. It is creation's living eloquence. It is Life speaking to Life. The millions, the countless myriads of beings to which it gives birth, are its words. All these, mingled together make the unity, the great and solemn voice of the ocean. And "what are those wild waves saying?" They are talking of Life,—of Immortality.

8. An indomitable strength is at the bottom of Nature—how much more so at Nature's summit, the Soul! And it speaks of partnership, of union. Let us accept the swift exchange which, in the individual, exists between the diverse elements; let us accept the superior Law which unites the living members of the same body—Humanity; and, still more, let us accept and respect the supreme Law which makes us co-operate with the great Soul, associated as we are—in proportion with our powers—with the loving harmony of the world—copartners in the life of God.

QUESTIONS.—1. What are three great forms of Nature? 2. What is said of the Air-ocean? 3. How does the Ocean address itself to man?

LESSON CVIII.

MO NOP' O LIZED, engrossed. CEL' E BRA TED, praised; talked of. PO' TENT LY, powerfully. MAR' I TIME, pertaining to sea. SA GAC' I TY, acuteness. IN TRE PID' I TY, daring valor. SAN' GUINE, bloody; cruel. EC CEN TRIC' I TY, peculiarity, oddity. WA' RI NESS, cautiousness. ED' I BLE, eatable. E MAN' CI PA TED, freed; liberated. IN TER ME' DI ATE, lying between. DEV AS TA TING, laying waste. DOUB' LE, sail around.

[Headnote 1: BASQUES, (basks), an ancient and peculiar people, living on the slopes of the Pyrenees Mountains.]

[Headnote 2: BRE' TON, a native of Brittany, an ancient province in France.]

[Headnote 3: NOR' MAN, that is, Northman, a name given to the ancient inhabitants of Norway, Denmark, and Sweden, and afterward to their descendants who settled in the north of France.]

THE WHALE AND THE WHALER.

FROM THE FRENCH OF MICHELET.

1. Who opened up to men the great distant navigation? Who revealed the ocean, and marked out its zones and its liquid highways? Who discovered the secrets of the globe? The Whale and the Whaler! And all this before Columbus and the famous gold-seekers, who have monopolized all the glory, found again, with much outcry about their discovery, what had so long before been discovered by the whalers.

2. That crossing of the ocean, which was so boastfully celebrated in the fifteenth century, had often been made, not only by the narrow passage between Iceland and Greenland, but, also, by the open sea; for the Basques[Headnote 1] went to Newfoundland. The smallest danger was the mere voyage; for these men, who went to the very end of the then known world, to challenge the whale to single combat, to steer right away into the Northern sea, to attack the mighty monster, amid darkness and storms, with the dense fog all around, and the foaming waves below,—those who could do this, were not the men to shrink from the ordinary dangers of the voyage.

3. Noble warfare! Great school of courage! That fishery was not then, as it is now, an easy war to wage, made from a distance, and with a potently murderous machine. No; the fisher then struck with his own strong hand, impelled and guided by his own fearless heart, and he risked life to take life. The men of that day killed but few whales; but they gained infinitely in maritime ability, in patience, in sagacity, and in intrepidity. They brought back less of oil; but more, far more of glory.

4. Every nation has its own peculiar genius. We recognize each by its own style of procedure. There are a hundred forms of courage, and these graduated varieties formed, as it were, another heroic game. At the North, the Scandinavian, the rude race from Norway to Flanders, had their sanguine fury. At the South, the wild burst, the gay daring, the clear-headed excitement, that impelled, at once, and guided them over the world. In the center, the silent and patient firmness of the Breton[Headnote 2], who yet, in the hour of danger, could display a quite sublime eccentricity. And, lastly, the Norman[Headnote 3] wariness, considerately courageous; daring all, but daring all for success. Such was the beauty of man, in that sovereign manifestation of human courage.

5. We owe a vast deal to the whale. But for it, the fishers would still have hugged the shore; for, almost every edible fish seeks the shore and the river. It was the whale that emancipated them, and led them afar. It led them onward, and onward still, until they found it, after having almost unconsciously passed from one world to the other. Greenland did not seduce them; it was not the land that they sought; but the sea, and the tracks of the whale.

6. The ocean at large is its home, and especially the broad and open sea. Each species has its especial preference for this or that latitude,—for a certain zone of water, more or less cold. And it was that preference which traced out the great divisions of the Atlantic. The tribe of inferior whales, that have a dorsal fin, are to be found in the warmest and in the coldest seas,—under the line and in the polar seas.

7. In the great intermediate region, the fierce Cachalot inclines toward the south, devastating the warm waters. On the contrary, the Free Whale fears the warm waters,—we should rather say, that they did, formerly, fear them,—they have become so scarce. They are never found in the warm southern current; it is that fact that led to the current being noticed, and thence to the discovery of the true course from America to Europe. From Europe to America, the trade winds will serve us.

8. If the Free Whale has a perfect horror of the warm waters, and can not pass the equator, it is clear that he can not double the southern end of America. How happens it, then, that when he is wounded on one side of America, in the Atlantic, he is sometimes found on the other side of America, and in the Pacific? It proves that there is a north-western passage. Another discovery which we owe to the whale, and one which throws a broad light alike on the form of the globe, and the geography of the seas!

9. By degrees, the whale has led us everywhere. Rare as he is at present, he has led us to both poles, from the uttermost recesses of the Pacific to Behring's Strait, and the infinite wastes of the Antarctic waters. There is even an enormous region that no vessel, whether war-ship or merchantman, ever traverses, at a few degrees beyond the southern points of America and Africa. No one visits that region but the whaler.

QUESTIONS.—1. What has been done by the whaler? 2. By whom had Newfoundland been discovered? 3. What is said of the courage of the whaler? 4. What proof is given that there is a north-western passage, by water, from the Atlantic to the Pacific?

LESSON CIX.

THRALL' DOM, bondage; slavery. IG NO' BLE, mean; degraded. HORDE, clan; tribe. FEUD' AL, pertaining to military tenure. DES' POTS, tyrants. PAL' TRY, mean; contemptible. RAP' INE,(rapin;) plunder; violence. FOR SOOTH', in truth; in fact. RUF' FIAN, robber; cut-throat. SERV' ILE, slavish; cringing. LIM' NERS, painters. DIS CI' PLE, learner; follower. CORSE, corpse; dead body. BRAWL, wrangle; contention. DIS TAIN' ED, sullied; stained. ECH' O ED, resounded.

RIENZI'S ADDRESS TO THE ROMANS.

[Footnote: RI EN' ZI, the last of the Roman Tribunes, was born in Rome about the year 1310. He was assassinated Oct. 8th, 1354 He was a person of extraordinary eloquence. In his day, Rome was a prey to contending factions of nobles. This kept the city in constant turmoil, and subjected the people to continual abuse and tyranny. It was the endeavor of Rienzi to arouse them to a resolution to be free.]

MISS MITFORD.

QUESTIONS.—1. In what condition did the writer say the Roman people were? 2. What wrongs are complained of? 3. What special cases are mentioned? 4. What are the people exhorted to do? 5. What is the meaning of the suffix dom, in the word thralldom? See ANALYSIS, page 142, Ex. 189. 6. What is the meaning of the suffix less, in the word harmless? See page 140, Ex. 187. 7. How, according to the notation mark, should the first part of the third verse be read? 8. What rule for the rising inflections, third verse? See page 28, Rule I.

LESSON CX.

MUL' TI PLY, increase; continue. COL'TER, part of the plow that cuts the sod. GE' NI AL, productive. BE NIG' NANT, kind; bounteous. SAUN' TER ING, loitering. WOOD' BINE, honeysuckle. RE SPLEN DENT, splendid, beautiful. PO' TENT, powerful. ROAD' STEAD, place where ships may anchor. RE LI' ANT, trusting; depending. PES TI LEN' TIAL, infectious; noxious. PER PET' U AL, continual. STER' ILE, barren.

[Headnote 1: LE ON' I DAS, the celebrated Spartan leader who, with three hundred men, perished in the effort to resist the Persian hosts, at the mountain pass of Thermopylae, (B.C., 480.)]

[Headnote 2: MARS' TON, that is, Marston Moor, a place in Yorkshire, England, memorable for the defeat of Charles I., (in 1644,) by the forces of Cromwell and others.]

[Headnote 3: BAN' NOCK BURN, a village in Stirlingshire, Scotland, famous for the battle between the patriots, under Robert Bruce, and the English invading army, under Edward II., fought, June 25, 1314.]

[Headnote 4: AR MA' DA, a great naval armament sent by Philip II. of Spain, in 1588, for the conquest of England. It failed utterly, however, of its object, having been scattered and disabled by violent storms.]

SONG OF THE FORGE.

QUESTIONS.—1. What things are mentioned as being forged? 2. What is said of the colter? 3. What, of the iron cable? 4. What, of the sword?

LESSON CXI.

BEN E FAC' TION, gift; favor. E LATE', flushed with success. IN HER' ENT, natural. PER FEC' TION, excellence. VIG' ILS, watchfulness. UN BRIB' ED, not influenced by gifts. CON SO LA' TION, comfort. AV' E NUE, way; entrance. A TROC' I TIES, enormities. MOCK' ER Y, derision; ridicule. FAC' UL TIES, powers of the mind. CA PAC' I TIES, abilities.

CHOICE EXTRACTS.

I.

SWIFTNESS OF TIME.

IDLER.

Let him that desires to see others happy, make haste to give while his gift can be enjoyed, and remember that every moment of delay takes away something from the value of his benefaction. And let him who proposes his own happiness, reflect, that while he forms his purpose, the days roll on, and "the night cometh when no man can work."

II.

THE SHIP OF STATE.

LONGFELLOW.

III.

THE TRUE HERO.

HORACE BUSHNELL.

The true hero is the great, wise man of duty,—he whose soul is armed by truth and supported by the smile of God,—he who meets life's perils with a cautious but tranquil spirit, gathers strength by facing its storms, and dies, if he is called to die, as a Christian victor at the post of duty. And, if we must have heroes, and wars wherein to make them, there is none so brilliant as a war with wrong,—no hero so fit to be sung as he who hath gained the bloodless victory of truth and mercy.

IV.

HEART ESSENTIAL TO GENIUS.

W.G. SIMMS.

V.

EDUCATION.

ADDISON.

I consider a human soul without education, like marble in the quarry, which shows none of its inherent beauties until the skill of the polisher fetches out the colors, makes the surface shine, and discovers every ornamental cloud, spot, and vein that runs through the body of it. Education, after the same manner, when it works upon a noble mind, draws out every latent virtue and perfection, which, without such helps, are never able to make their appearance.

VI.

THE VANITY OF WEALTH.

DR. JOHNSON.

VII.

CONSOLATION OF THE GOSPEL.

A. ALEXANDER.

Oh, precious gospel! Will any merciless hand endeavor to tear away from our hearts, this last, this sweetest consolation? Would you darken the only avenue through which one ray of hope can enter? Would you tear from the aged and infirm poor the only prop on which their souls can repose in peace? Would you deprive the dying of their only source of consolation? Would you rob the world of its richest treasure? Would you let loose the flood-gates of every vice, and bring back upon the earth the horrors of superstition, or the atrocities of atheism? Then endeavor to subvert the gospel; throw around you the firebrands of infidelity; laugh at religion, and make a mockery of futurity; but be assured that for all these things, God will bring you into judgment.

VIII.

THE LIGHT OF HOPE.

O.W.B. PEABODY.

IX.

PAMPERING THE BODY AND STARVING THE SOUL.

EDWARD EVERETT.

1. What`! feed a child's body, and let his soul hunger'? pamper his limbs, and starve his faculties'? Plant the earth, cover a thousand hills with your droves of cattle, pursue the fish to their hiding-places in the sea, and spread out your wheat-fields across the plain, in order to supply the wants of that body which will soon be as cold and as senseless as the poorest clod, and let the pure spiritual essence within you, with all its glorious capacities for improvement, languish and pine'?

2. What`! build factories, turn in rivers upon the water-wheels, unchain the imprisoned spirits of steam, to weave a garment for the body, and let the soul remain unadorned and naked'? What`! send out your vessels to the furthest ocean, and make battle with the monsters of the deep, in order to obtain the means of lighting up your dwellings and workshops, and prolonging the hours of labor for the meat that perisheth, and permit that vital spark, which God has kindled, which He has intrusted to our care, to be fanned into a bright and heavenly flame,—permit it, I say, to languish and go out'?

3. What considerate man can enter a school, and not reflect, with awe, that it is a seminary where immortal minds are training for eternity'? What parent but is, at times, weighed down with the thought, that there must be laid the foundations of a building which will stand, when not merely temple and palace, but the perpetual hills and adamantine rocks on which they rest, have melted away`!—that a light may there be kindled which will shine, not merely when every artificial beam is extinguished, but when the affrighted sun has fled away from the heavens`?

LESSON CXII.

FRUIT' AGE, collection of fruits. WAX' ES, grows; increases. JU' BI LANT, joyous. TINGE, imbue. GLO' RI FI ED, exalted to glory. UN WA' RY, incautious. FAM' ISH ED, afflicted with hunger. BAN' ISH ED, driven out; expelled. RE NEW' ED, made new again. MA TUR' ING, ripening. VINT' AGE, produce of the vine. DIS LOY' AL TY, unfaithfulness. BE QUEATH' ED, left by inheritance. CON SID' ER ATE, thoughtful. RE VIV' I FY, (RE, again; VIV, live; IFY, to make;) to make alive again, to bring to life; renew.

WE ALL DO FADE AS A LEAF.

GAIL HAMILTON.

1. "We all do fade as a leaf." Change is the essence of life. "Passing away," is written on all things; and passing away is passing on from strength to strength, from glory to glory. Spring has its growth, summer its fruitage, and autumn its festive in-gathering. The spring of eager preparation waxes into the summer of noble work; mellowing in its turn into the serene autumn, the golden-brown haze of October, when the soul may robe itself in jubilant drapery, awaiting the welcome command, "Come up higher," where mortality shall be swallowed up in life.

2. Why, then, should autumn tinge our thoughts with sadness. We fade as the leaf, and the leaf fades only to revivify. Though it fall, it shall rise again. Does the bud fear to become a blossom, or the blossom shudder as it swells into fruit; and shall the redeemed weep that they must become glorified'? Strange inconsistency`! We faint with the burden and the heat of the day. We bow down under the crosses that are laid upon our shoulders. We are bruised and torn by the snares and pitfalls which beset our way, and into which our unwary feet often fall.

3. We are famished, and foot-sore, and travel-stained, from our long journey, and yet we are saddened by tokens that we shall pass away from all these,—away from sin and sorrow, from temptation and fall, from disappointment, and weary waiting, and a fearful looking-for of evil, to purity and holiness, and the full fruition of every hope,—bliss which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor heart conceived,—to a world whence all that made this dreary is forever banished, and where all that made this delightful is forever renewed and increased,—a world where the activities and energies of the soul shall have full scope, and love and recognition wait upon its steps forever.

4. Let him alone fear, who does not fade as the leaf,—him whose sources are not in God, and who does not draw his life thence,—him whose spring is gathering no strength, whose summer is maturing no fruit, and whose autumn shall have no vintage. Is not this the real sorrow of us all? not a dread of change, but a secret consciousness of wasted power,—of disloyalty to God, as the supreme object of our love and service.

5. Yet even here the fading leaf brings hope. Our future is always before us. The past is fixed. No tears can wash away its facts. Let us waste no vain regrets upon it; but, from the wisdom which its very mistakes and sins have bequeathed us, start afresh on the race. Though yesterday we were weak, and selfish, and indolent, let us to-day—at this moment—begin to be strong, and brave, and helpful, and just, and generous, and considerate, and tender, and truthful, and pure, and patient, and forgiving. "Now" is a glorious word. "HENCEFORTH" is always within our grasp.

QUESTIONS.—1. To what are we compared? 2. What is said of change? 3. What change takes place in the leaf? 4. What, in man? 5. Who have reason to fear? 6. What is said of the past and the future?

LESSON CXIII.

UN HEED' ED, not regarded. EX POS' ED, unprotected. EX HORT' ED, urged; persuaded. AT TUN' ED, put in tune. ES SEN' TIAL, real; true. AN NOUNC' ED, proclaimed.

TEACHINGS OF NATURE.

POLLOCK.

QUESTIONS.—1. What do the seasons teach? 2. What, the trees? 3. What, the sun and moon? 4. What, Messiah's messengers?

LESSON CXIV.

BE DECK' ED, adorned. AR RAY', dress; attire. MAN' TLED, spread; rushed. DE VO' TION, attachment. I DOL A TROUS, excessive. SEV' ER ED, rent; sundered. EN CIR' CLED, inclosed; surrounded. SA' BLES, mourning clothes. GIFT' ED, talented. FOUND ED, established. AL LURE', (AL, to; LURE, draw;) draw to; entice.

PASSING UNDER THE ROD.

[Footnote: These lines are founded on the following passage of Jewish history:—"It was the custom of the Jews to select the tenth of their sheep after this manner: The lambs were separated from their dams, and inclosed in a sheep-cot, with only one narrow way out; the lambs hastened to join the dams, and a man, placed at the entrance, with a rod dipped in ocher, touched every tenth lamb, and so marked it with his rod, saying, 'LET THIS BE HOLY.' Hence, God says by his prophet, 'I will cause you to pass under the rod.'"]

MARY S.B. DANA.

QUESTIONS.—1. What custom is alluded to, in the passage "I will cause you to pass under the rod?" See note. 2. Where is that passage found in the Scriptures? Ans. Ezekiel, 20th chap., 37th verse. 3. What instances are mentioned of individuals "passing under the rod?"

LESSON CXV.

PET' U LANT, cross; fretful. CA LAM' I TY, misfortune. SA TIR' IC AL, keenly severe; cutting. NUI' SANCE, annoyance. JUST' I FY, give a right to. STU PID' I TY, extreme dullness. CUL' PABLE, blamable; censurable. IR RI TA BIL' I TY, excitableness. AP PEL LA' TION, name; title. VE' HE MENT, violent; furious. VO CIF ER A' TIONS, loud outcries. MEN' A CES, threats. CEN' SUR ED, blamed. VIN DI CA' TION, justification. LON GEV' I TY, length of life. CON TEMPT' I BLE, despicable.

THE PETULANT MAN.

OSBORNE.

MR. GRIM—MICHAEL—COUSIN MARY.

Cousin Mary. More breezes? What terrible thing has happened now, Cousin Grim? What's the matter?

Grim. Matter enough, I should think! I sent this stupid fellow to bring me a pair of boots from the closet; and he has brought me two rights, instead of a right and left.

Cousin. What a serious calamity! But, perhaps, he thought it was but right to leave the left.

Grim. None of your jokes, if you please. This is nothing to laugh at.

Cousin. So it would seem, from the expression on your face,—rather something to storm at, roar at, and fall into a frenzy about.

Michael. That's right, Miss; give him a piece of your mind! He's the crossest little man I have met with in the new country. You might scrape old Ireland with a fine-tooth comb, and not find such another.

Grim. How dare you talk to me in that style? I'll discharge you this very day!

Michael. I'm thinking of discharging you, if you don't take better care of that sweet temper of yours.

Grim. Leave the room, sir!

Michael. That I will, in search of better company, saving the lady's presence.

[Exit.

Grim. There, cousin! there is a specimen of my provocations! Can you wonder at my losing my temper?

Cousin. Cousin Grim, that would be the most fortunate thing that could befall you.

Grim. What do you mean?

Cousin. I mean, if you could only lose that temper of yours, it would be a blessed thing for you; though I should pity the poor fellow who found it. Grim. You are growing satirical in your old age, Cousin Mary.

Cousin. Cousin Grim, hear the plain truth; your ill temper makes you a nuisance to yourself and every body about you.

Grim. Really, Miss Mary Somerville, you are getting to be complimentary!

Cousin. No; I am getting to be candid. I have passed a week in your house, on your invitation. I leave you this afternoon; but, before I go, I mean to speak my mind.

Grim. It seems to me that you have spoken it rather freely already.

Cousin. What was there, in the circumstance of poor Michael's bringing you the wrong boots, to justify your flying into a rage, and bellowing as if your life had been threatened?

Grim. That fellow is perpetually making just such provoking blunders!

Cousin. And do you never make provoking blunders'? Didn't you send me five pounds of Hyson tea, when I wrote for Souchong'? Didn't you send a carriage for me to the cars, half an hour too late, so that I had to hire one myself, after great trouble'? And did I roar at you, when we met, because you had done these things'?

Grim. On the contrary, this is the first time you have alluded to them. I am sorry they should have happened. But surely you should make a distinction between any such little oversight of mine, and the stupidity of a servant, hired to attend to your orders.

Cousin. I do not admit that there should be a distinction. You are both human; only, as you have had the better education, and the greater advantages, stupidity or neglect on your part, is much the more culpable.

Grim. Thank you! Go on.

Cousin. I mean to; so don't be impatient. If an uncooked potato, or a burnt mutton-chop, happens to fall to your lot at the dinner-table, what a tempest follows! One would think you had been wronged, insulted, trampled on, driven to despair. Your face is like a thunder-cloud, all the rest of the meal. Your poor wife endeavors to hide her tears. Your children feel timid and miserable. Your guest feels as if she would like to see you held under the nose of the pump, and thoroughly ducked.

Grim. The carriage is waiting for you, Miss Somerville, and the driver has put on your baggage.

Cousin. I have hired that carriage by the hour, and so am in no hurry. Your excuse for your irritability will be, I suppose, that it is constitutional, and not to be controlled. A selfish, paltry, miserable excuse! I have turned down a leaf in Dr. Johnson's works, and will read what he says in regard to tempers like yours.

Grim. You are always quoting Dr. Johnson! Cousin, I can not endure it! Dr. Johnson is a bore!

Cousin. Oh, yes! to evil-doers,—but to none else. Hear him: "There is in the world a class of mortals known, and contentedly known, by the appellation of passionate men, who imagine themselves entitled, by this distinction, to be provoked on every slight occasion, and to vent their rage in vehement and fierce vociferations, in furious menaces, and licentious reproaches."

Grim. That will do.

Cousin. "Men of this kind," he tells us, "are often pitied rather than censured, and are not treated with the severity which their neglect of the ease of all about them, might justly provoke." But he adds: "It is surely not to be observed without indignation, that men may be found of minds mean enough to be satisfied with this treatment; wretches who are proud to obtain the privilege of madmen, and——"

Grim. I will hear no more! Have done!

Cousin. So the shaft went home! I am not sorry.

Grim. No one but a meddlesome old maid would think of insulting a man in his own house.

Cousin. So, when, at a loss for a vindication, you reproach me with being an old maid! Cousin, it does not distress me, either to be an old maid, or to be called one. I must, however, remark, that the manhood that can charge against a woman her single state, either as a matter of ridicule or reproach, is not quite up to my standard.

Grim. Cousin Mary, I ask your pardon! But am I, indeed, the petulant, disagreeable fellow, you would make me out?

Cousin. My dear Caspar, you are generous enough in large things; but, oh! consider that trifles make up a good portion of the sum of life; and so "a small unkindness is a great offense." Why not be cheerful, sunny, genial, in little things? Why not look on the bright side? Why not present an unruffled front to petty annoyances? Why not labor,—ay, labor,—to have those around you happy and contented, by reflecting from yourself such a frame of mind upon them?

Life is short, at the best; why not make it cheerful? Do you know that longevity is promoted by a tranquil, happy habit of thought and temper'? Do you know that cheerfulness, like mercy, is twice blessed; blessing "him that gives, and him that takes'?" Do you know that good manners, as well as good sense, demand that we should look at objects on their bright side'? Do you know that it is contemptible selfishness in you to shed gloom and sorrow over a whole family by your moroseness and ill-humor'?

Grim. Cousin Mary, the patience with which I have listened to your cutting remarks, will prove to you, I hope, that, notwithstanding my angry retorts, I am convinced there is much truth in what you have said of me. I have a favor to ask. Send away your carriage; stay a week longer,—a month,—a year, if you will. Hold the lash over this ugly temper of mine,—and I give you my word that I will set about the cure of it in earnest.

Cousin. You should have begun earlier,—in youth, when the temper is pliable, and strong impressions can work great changes. But we will not despair. I will tarry with you a while, just to see if you are serious in your wish for a reformation, and to help you bring it about.

Grim. Thank you. We hear of reformed drunkards, and reformed thieves; and why may not a petulant temper be reformed, but a system of total abstinence from all harsh, unkind moods and expressions? Come, we will try.

QUESTIONS.—1. At what was Mr. Grim offended? 2. What did Cousin Mary say would be fortunate for him? 3. What blunder had Mr. Grim made? 4. How did he often behave at the table? 5. What does Dr. Johnson say of such men? 6. What did Cousin Mary finally say to him? 7. Of what was he convinced? 8. What did he resolve to do?

LESSON CXVI.

SAC' RI FICE, religious offering. STRAIGHT, immediately. SCUR' VY, low; mean. SCRU' PLE, hesitate. EN DURE', suffer'; tolerate. IM PURE, filthy; unclean. UT TER LY, entirely; completely. BLEM' ISH, defect; deformity. WA' VER ED, hesitated. IM PAR' TIAL, just; free from bias. RE FER', leave to another. PAR' DON, forgive. GHEE, kind of butter used in India. DIS TRUST' ING, suspecting. PAL PA BLE, obvious; evident. LAUD' ING, praising.

THE BRAHMIN AND THE ROGUES.

[Footnote: The fable, here thrown into verse, is related in English prose by Macaulay, who says:—"Thus, or nearly thus, if we remember rightly, runs the story of the Sanscrit Aesop."]

AN EASTERN FABLE.

VERSIFIED BY J.N. McELLIGOTT.

QUESTIONS.—1. What trick did the three rogues play off on the Brahmin? 2. In what way did they do this? 3. What moral is taught in this fable?

LESSON CXVII.

E LAS TIC' I TY, returning vigor. MIN' I FIES, lessens; makes small. DEG RA DA' TION, abasement. ES TRANGED, alienates. UN ALMS' ED, not having received alms. HA BIT' U AL, accustomed. EX TRAV' A GANCE, superfluous expense. IM PER' TI NENCE, that which is not pertinent. SUS PI' CIOUS, distrustful. E CON' O MY, frugality. TRAN' QUIL, calm; undisturbed. BE NUMB' ING, dull; stupefying. IM PROV' I DENCE, wastefulness.

LIVING WITHIN OUR MEANS.

S.W. PARTRIDGE.

LESSON CXVIII.

OM NIP' O TENT, all-powerful. IN TER' MI NA BLE, endless. MILK Y-WAY, galaxy; luminous circle in the heavens. AS' TRAL, starry. IN FIN' I TUDE, unlimited extent. IM PET' U OUS, rushing. AS TRON O MER, one skilled in the science of the stars. AP PROX' I MATE LY, nearly. OM NIS' CIENCE, knowledge of all things. PER TUR BA' TIONS, irregularities of motion. AB' SO LUTE, entire. PRE CIS' ION, exactness. AD JUST' MENTS, arrangements. RET' I NUE, company. SAT' EL LITES, small planets revolving round others.

GRANDEUR OF THE UNIVERSE.

O.M. MITCHEL.

1. If you would know the glory of the Omnipotent Ruler of the universe, examine the interminable range of suns and systems which crowd the Milky-Way. Multiply the hundred millions of stars which belong to our own "island universe" by the thousands of these astral systems that exist in space, within the range of human vision, and then you may form some idea of the infinitude of His kingdom; for lo! these are but a part of His ways.

2. Examine the scale on which the universe is built. Comprehend, if you can, the vast dimensions of our sun. Stretch outward through his system, from planet to planet, and circumscribe the whole within the immense circumference of Neptune's orbit. This is but a single unit out of the myriads of similar systems.

3. Take the wings of light, and flash with impetuous speed, day and night, and month, and year, till youth shall wear away, and middle age is gone, and the extremest limit of human life has been attained;—count every pulse, and, at each, speed on your way a hundred thousand miles; and when a hundred years have rolled by, look out, and behold! the thronging millions of blazing suns are still around you, each separated from the other by such a distance, that, in this journey of a century, you have only left half a score behind you.

4. Would you gather some idea of the eternity past of God's existence,—go to the astronomer, and bid him lead you in one of his walks through space; and, as he sweeps outward from object to object, from universe to universe, remember that the light from those filmy stains on the deep pure blue of heaven, now falling on your eye, has been traversing space for a million of years.

5. Would you gather some knowledge of the omnipotence of God,—weigh the earth on which we dwell, then count the millions of its inhabitants that have come and gone for the last six thousand years. Unite their strength into one arm, and test its power in an effort to move this earth. It could not stir it a single foot in a thousand years; and yet under the omnipotent hand of God, not a minute passes that it does not fly more than a thousand miles.