PART SECOND.

LESSON I.

HER' O ISM, bravery; courage. MA LI" CIOUS, ill disposed; resentful. AM BI" TION, eager desire. SAR CAS' TIC, severe; cutting. DE RIS' ION, ridicule. CON FER' RED, bestowed. RES' CU ED, saved; preserved. DIS AS' TER, calamity. IN CLIN' ED, disposed. SYM' PA THY, fellow-feeling. TEN' DER ED, offered. A POL' O GY, excuse.

TRUE HEROISM.

OSBORNE.

1. I shall never forget a lesson which I received when quite a young lad, while attending an Academy. Among my schoolmates were Hartly and Vincent. They were both older than myself, and Vincent was looked up to, as a sort of leader in matters of opinion, and in directing our sports.

2. He was not, at heart, a malicious boy; but he had a foolish ambition of being thought witty and sarcastic; and he made himself feared by a habit of turning things into ridicule. He seemed to be constantly looking out for something to occur, which he could turn into derision.

3. Hartly was a new scholar, and little was known of him among the boys. One morning as we were on our way to school, he was seen driving a cow along the road toward the pasture. A group of boys, among whom was Vincent, met him as he was passing.

4. "Now," said Vincent, "let us have a little sport with our country rustic." So saying, he exclaimed: "Halloo, Jonathan! [Footnote: A title frequently applied to the Yankees by the English.] what is the price of milk? What do you feed her on? What will you take for all the gold on her horns? Boys, if you want to see the latest Paris style, look at those boots!"

5. Hartly waved his hand at us with a pleasant smile, and, driving the cow to the field, took down the bars of a rail-fence, saw her safely in the pasture, and then, putting up the bars, came and entered the school with the rest of us. After school, in the afternoon, he let out the cow, and drove her away, none of us knew where. Every day, for two or three weeks, he went through the same task.

6. The boys who attended the Academy, were nearly all the sons of wealthy parents, and some of them were foolish enough to look down, with a sort of disdain, upon a scholar who had to drive a cow to pasture; and the sneers and jeers of Vincent were often repeated.

7. One day, he refused to sit next to Hartly in school, on a pretense that he did not like the odor of the barn. Sometimes he would inquire of Hartly after the cow's health, pronouncing the word "ke-ow," after the manner of some people.

8. Hartly bore all these silly attempts to wound his feelings and annoy him, with the utmost good nature. He never once returned an angry look or word. One time, Vincent said: "Hartly, I suppose your father intends to make a milkman of you."

9. "Why not?" said Hartly. "Oh, nothing," said Vincent; "only do not leave much water in the cans after rinsing them—that's all!" The boys laughed, and Hartly, not in the least mortified, replied: "Never fear; if I ever rise to be a milkman, I will give good measure and good milk too."

10. A few days after this conversation, there was a public exhibition, at which a number of ladies and gentlemen from the city, was present. Prizes were awarded by the Principal of the Academy, and Hartly and Vincent each received one; for, in respect to scholarship, they were about equal.

11. After the prizes were distributed, the Principal remarked that there was one prize, consisting of a medal, which was rarely awarded, not so much on account of its great value, as because the instances are rare that merit it. It is THE PRIZE FOR HEROISM. The last boy on whom it was conferred, was Master Manners, who, three years ago, rescued the blind girl from drowning.

12. The Principal then said, "With the permission of the company, I will relate a short story. Not long since, some boys were flying a kite in the street, just as a poor boy on horseback rode by, on his way to mill. The horse took fright, and threw the boy, injuring him so badly that he was carried home, and confined for some weeks to his bed.

13. "None of the boys who had caused the disaster, followed to learn the fate of the wounded boy. There was one, however, who witnessed the accident from a distance, and went to render what service he could. He soon learned that the wounded boy was the grandson of a poor widow, whose only support consisted in selling the milk of a fine cow, of which she was the owner.

14. "Alas! what could she now do? She was old and lame, and her grandson, on whom she depended to drive the cow to pasture, was now sick and helpless. 'Never mind, good woman,' said the boy, 'I can drive your cow.' With thanks, the poor widow accepted his offer.

15. "But the boy's kindness did not stop here. Money was wanted to purchase medicine. 'I have money that my mother sent me to buy a pair of boots,' said the boy; 'but I can do without them for the present.'

16. "'Oh, no!' said the old lady, 'I can not consent to that; but here is a pair of cowhide boots that I bought for Henry, who can not wear them. If you will buy them, giving me what they cost, I can get along very well.' The boy bought the boots, clumsy as they were, and has worn them up to this time.

17. "When the other boys of the Academy saw this scholar driving a cow to the pasture, he was assailed with laughter and ridicule. His thick cowhide boots, in particular, were made matters of mirth. But he kept on cheerfully and bravely, day after day, driving the widow's cow to the pasture, and wearing his thick boots, contented in the thought that he was doing right, not caring for all the jeers and sneers that could be uttered.

18. "He never undertook to explain why he drove the cow; for he was not inclined to display his charitable motives, and besides, in heart, he had no sympathy with the false pride that looks with ridicule on any useful employment. It was by mere accident that his course of conduct and self-denial, was yesterday discovered by his teacher.

19. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, I appeal to you. Was there not true heroism in this boy's conduct? Nay, Master Hartly, do not steal out of sight behind the blackboard! You were not ashamed of ridicule—you must not shun praise. Come forth, come forth, Master Edward James Hartly, and let us see your honest face!"

20. As Hartly, with blushing cheeks, made his appearance, the whole company greeted him with a round of applause for his heroic conduct. The ladies stood upon benches, and waved their handkerchiefs. The old men clapped their hands, and wiped the moisture from the corners of their eyes. Those clumsy boots on Hartly's feet seemed prouder ornaments, than a crown would have been on his head. The medal was bestowed on him, amid the applause of the whole company.

21. Vincent was heartily ashamed of his ill-natured sneers, and, after the school was dismissed, he went, with tears in his eyes, and tendered his hand to Hartly, making a handsome apology for his past ill manners. "Think no more about it," said Hartly; "let us all go and have a ramble in the woods, before we break up for vacation." The boys, one and all, followed Vincent's example, and then, with shouts and huzzas, they all set forth into the woods—a happy, cheerful group.

QUESTIONS.—1. In what way did Vincent try to make derision of Hartly? 2. How did Hartly receive it? 3. For what did Hartly receive a prize from his teacher? 4. How did the spectators manifest their approbation of Hartly's conduct?

LESSON II.

A VERT' ED, turned aside. RE PENT' ANT, contrite; sorrowful. SIN CERE', honest; true-hearted. SE VERE', harsh; rigid TAUNTS, scoffs; insults. PLATE, dishes of gold or silverware. DE SERT', forsake; abandon. FAIL' URE, want of success. SID' ING, taking part. TYR' AN NY, oppression; cruelty.

YOU AND I.

CHARLES MACKAY.

QUESTIONS.—1. What rule for the rising and falling inflections, first verse? See page 28. 2. Repeat the rule. 3. What rule for the falling inflections, fifth verse? See page 29. 4. Repeat the rule. What is the meaning of the suffix en, in the words strengthen, blacken? See SANDERS and McELLIGOTT'S ANALYSIS OF ENGLISH WORDS, p. 132, Ex. 174.

LESSON III.

WAR' FARE, conflict; struggle. CLUTCH ES, paws; firm grasp. DO MIN' ION, rule; sway. PIN' ION, wing; as of a bird. PRE' CIOUS, costly; valuable. SCOFF' ER, scorner. VA' RI ED, changing; different. WAVES, moves to and fro. PRO PHET' IC, (ph like f.) foretelling. DE SPISE', scorn; disdain. GOAL, the mark that bounds a race. BECK' ON, motion; invite with the hand.

LIFE'S WORK.

QUESTIONS.—1. What do it and them refer to, third verse, last line? 2. Repeat the word sunshine several times in quick succession.

LESSON IV.

AC CUS' TOM ED, used; habituated. PLAN TA' TIONS, settlements. PRO TEC' TION, safety; defense. RE PROACH' FUL, reproving. CAP' TUR ED, taken prisoners. DE CID' ED, concluded. COR O NET, little crown. SA LUT' ED, greeted. MON' ARCH, sovereign; ruler. CON CEAL' ED, hid; secreted. RE STOR' ED, brought back. VI' O LENCE, outrage; wrong. RE BUK' ED, reproved. LEAGUE, compact; alliance. TER' RI BLE, fearful; dreadful. AT TEND' ANT, waiter; servant.

THE YOUNG CAPTIVES.

1. Many years ago, dining the early settlements in New England, the children were accustomed to gather large quantities of nuts, which grew in great abundance in the forests that surrounded their little plantations.

2. In one of these nut-gatherings, a little boy and girl, the one eight and the other four years of age, whose mother was dead, became separated from their companions. On their way home, they came across some wild grapes, and were busily engaged in gathering them, till the last rays of the setting sun were fading away.

3. Suddenly they were seized by two Indians. The boy struggled violently, and his little sister cried to him for protection; but in vain. The Indians soon bore them far beyond the bounds of the settlement. Night was far advanced before they halted. Then they kindled a fire, and offered the children some food.

4. The heart of the boy swelled high with grief and anger, and he refused to eat. But the poor little girl took some parched corn from the hand of the Indian who held her on his knee. He smiled as he saw her eat the kernels, and look up in his face with a wondering, yet reproachful eye. Then they lay down to sleep in the dark forest, each with an arm over his little captive.

5. Great was the alarm in the colony when these children did not return. Every spot was searched, where it was thought possible they might have lost their way. But when, at length, their little basket was found, overturned in a tangled thicket, they came to the conclusion that they must have been captured by the Indians.

6. It was decided that before any warlike measures were adopted, the father should go peacefully to the Indian king, and demand his children. At the earliest dawn of morning he departed with his companions. They met a friendly Indian pursuing the chase, who consented to be their guide.

7. They traveled through rude paths, until the day drew near a close. Then, approaching a circle of native dwellings, in the midst of which was a tent, they saw a man of lofty form, with a coronet of feathers upon his brow, and surrounded by warriors. The guide saluted him as his monarch, and the bereaved father, bowing down, thus addressed him:

8. "King of the red men, thou seest a father in pursuit of his lost children. He has heard that your people will not harm the stranger in distress. So he trusts himself fearlessly among you. The king of our own native land, who should have protected us, became our foe. We fled from our dear homes—from the graves of our fathers.

9. "The ocean wave brought us to this New World. We are a peaceful race, pure from the blood of all men. We seek to take the hand of our red brethren. Of my own kindred, none inhabit this wilderness, save two little buds, from a broken, buried stem.

10. "Last night, sorrow entered into my soul, because I found them not. Knowest thou, O king, if thy people have taken my children'? Knowest thou where they have concealed them'? Cause them, I pray thee, to be restored to my arms. So shall the Great Spirit bless thy own tender plants, and lift up thy heart when it weigheth heavily on they bosom."

11. The Indian monarch, fixing on him a piercing glance, said: "Knowest thou me'? Look in my eyes`! Look`! Answer me`! Are they the eyes of a stranger`!" The bereaved father replied that he had no recollection of having ever before seen his countenance.

12. "Thus it is with the white man. He is dim-eyed. He looketh on the garments more than on the soul. Where your plows turn up the earth, oft have I stood watching your toil. There was no coronet on my brow. But I was king. And you knew it not.

13. "I looked upon your people. I saw neither pride nor violence. I went an enemy, but returned a friend. I said to my warriors, 'Do these men no harm. They do not hate Indians.' Then our white-haired prophet of the Great Spirit rebuked me. He bade me make no league with the pale faces, lest angry words should be spoken of me, among the shades of our buried kings.

14. "Yet, again, I went where thy brethren have reared their dwellings. Yes; I entered thy house. And thou knowest not this brow'? I could tell thine at midnight, if but a single star trembled through the clouds. My ear would know thy voice, though the storm was abroad with all its thunders.

15. "I have said that I was king. Yet I came to thee hungry, and thou gavest me bread. My head was wet with the tempest. Thou badest me lie down on thy couch, and thy son, for whom thou mournest, covered me.

16. "I was sad in spirit, and thy little daughter, whom thou seekest with tears, sat on my knee. She smiled when I told her how the beaver buildeth his house in the forest. My heart was comforted, for I saw that she did not hate Indians.

17. "Turn not on me such a terrible eye. I am no stealer of babes. I have reproved the people who took thy children. I have sheltered them for thee. Not a hair of their head is hurt. Thinkest thou that the red man can forget kindness'? They are sleeping in my tent. Had I but a single blanket, it should have been their bed. Take them, and return unto thy people."

18. He waved his hand to an attendant, and, in a moment, the two children were in the arms of their father. The white men were kindly sheltered for that night, and, the next day, they bore the children to their home, and the people rejoiced at their safe return.

QUESTIONS.—1. By whom wore those children taken captive? 2. Who went in search of them? 3. What did he say to the king of the tribe? 4. What reply did the Indian monarch make? 5. Were the children restored to their father? 6. What is meant by the New World, 9th paragraph? 7. What by two little buds, from a broken, buried stem, same paragraph?

LESSON V.

IM' AGE. form; likeness. ELAPS' ED, glided away. WAY' WARD NESS, perverseness. SHUD' DER ING, chilling tremor. PAS' SION ATE, easily excited to anger. MAS' TER Y, rule; sway. HEAD' STRONG, stubborn; obstinate. UN DER WENT', experienced. AF FEC' TION, love; attachment. THRESH' OLD, entrance. ANX I' E TY, care; solicitude. PER PET' U AL, continual.

MY MOTHER'S LAST KISS.

MRS. E. OAKES SMITH.

1. I was but five years old when my mother died; but her image is as fresh in my mind, now that twenty years have elapsed, as it was at the time of her death. I remember her, as a pale, gentle being, with a sweet smile, and a voice soft and cheerful when she praised me; and when I had erred, (for I was a wild, thoughtless child,) there was a mild and tender earnestness in her reproofs, that always went to my little heart.

2. Methinks I can now see her large, blue eyes moist with sorrow, because of my childish waywardness, and hear her repeat: "My child, how can you grieve me so?" She had, for a long time, been pale and feeble, and sometimes there would come a bright spot on her cheek, which made her look so lovely, I thought she must be well. But then she spoke of dying, and pressed me to her bosom, and told me to be good when she was gone, and to love my father, and be kind to him; for he would have no one else to love.

3. I recollect she was ill all day, and my little hobbyhorse and whip were laid aside, and I tried to be very quiet. I did not see her for the whole day, and it seemed very long. At night, they told me my mother was too sick to kiss me, as she always had done before I went to bed, and I must go without it. But I could not. I stole into the room, and placing my lips close to hers, whispered: "Mother, dear mother, won't you kiss me?"

4. Her lips were very cold, and when she put her hand upon my cheek, and laid my head on her bosom, I felt a cold shuddering pass all through me. My father carried me from the room; but he could not speak. After they put me in bed, I lay a long while thinking; I feared my mother would, indeed, die; for her cheek felt cold, as my little sister's did when she died, and they carried her little body away where I never saw it again. But I soon fell asleep.

5. In the morning I rushed to my mother's room, with a strange dread of evil to come upon me. It was just as I feared. A white linen covered her straight, cold form. I removed it from her face: her eyes were closed, and her cheeks were hard and cold. But my mother's dear, dear smile was there, or my heart would have broken.

6. In an instant, all the little faults, for which she had so often reproved me, rushed upon my mind. I longed to tell her how good I would always be, if she would but stay with me. I longed to tell her how, in all time to come, her words would be a law to me. I would be all that she had wished me to be.

7. I was a passionate, headstrong boy; and never did this frame of temper come upon me, but I seemed to see her mild, tearful eyes full upon me, just as she used to look in life; and when I strove for the mastery over my passions, her smile seemed to cheer my heart, and I was happy.

8. My whole character underwent a change, even from the moment of her death. Her spirit seemed to be always with me, to aid the good and root out the evil that was in me. I felt it would grieve her gentle spirit to see me err, and I could not, would not, do so.

9. I was the child of her affection. I knew she had prayed and wept over me; and that even on the threshold of the grave, her anxiety for my welfare had caused her spirit to linger, that she might pray once more for me. I never forgot my mother's last kiss. It was with me in sorrow; it was with me in joy; it was with me in moments of evil, like a perpetual good.

QUESTIONS.—1. What was the age of the person represented in this piece? 2. What, when his mother died? 3. What did he say of himself when a child? 4. Had he ever grieved his mother? 5. What did he say of his faults, after his mother's death? 6. What did he desire to tell her? 7. How ought you to treat your mother, in order to avoid the reproaches of your own conscience?

LESSON VI.

SUR PRISE', amazement. PER' ISH ED, died. STINT' ED, small of size. STERN, severe; harsh; rigid. LOI' TER, linger; tarry. STAG' GER ED, reeled to and fro. FORD' ED, waded. ES CAP ED, fled from.

THE DEAD CHILD'S FORD.

MRS. E. OAKES SMITH.

QUESTIONS.—1. Was John an orphan, or half orphan? 2. Was he drowned at night, or in the daytime? 8. By whom was he found? 4. What is the place called where he was drowned? 5. Give the rule for the rising inflections, as marked in the 1st, 2d, and 4th verses. 6. Why are there no quotation marks at the beginning of the 2d verse? 7. Why are half quotations used in the 3d and 8th verses? 8. How should a part of the 8th and 10th verses be read, according to the notation marks? See page 41.

LESSON VII.

EX CLAIM' ED, cried out. DE MAND' ING, asking; requiring. A MISS', wrong; improperly. AC CUS' ED, charged with. BREACH, violation. VIS' ION, sight; view. DE SCRIP' TION, account. SLUG' GARD, lazy person.

LAME AND LAZY,—A FABLE.

[Footnote: For an explanation of the term fable, see page 236.]

1. Two beggars, LAME and LAZY, were in want of bread. One leaned on his crutch, the other reclined on his couch. Lame called on Charity, and humbly asked for a cracker. Instead of a cracker, he received a loaf.

2. Lazy, seeing the gift of Charity, exclaimed: "What`! ask a cracker and receive a loaf'? Well, I will ask a loaf." Lazy now applied to Charity, and called for a loaf of bread. "Your demanding a loaf," said Charity, "proves you a loaf-er. You are of that class and character who ask and receive not; because you ask amiss."

3. Lazy, who always found fault, and had rather whine than work, complained of ill-treatment, and even accused Charity of a breach of an exceeding great and precious promise: "Ask, and ye shall receive."

4. Charity pointed him to a painting in her room, which presented to his vision three personages, Faith, Hope and Charity. Charity appeared larger and fairer than her sisters. He noticed that her right hand held a pot of honey, which fed a bee disabled, having lost its wings. Her left hand was armed with a whip to keep off the drones.

5. "I do not understand it," said Lazy. Charity replied: "It means that Charity feeds the lame, and flogs the lazy." Lazy turned to go. "Stop," said Charity, "instead of coin, I will give you counsel. Do not go and live on your poor mother; I will send you to a rich ant."

6. "Rich aunt'?" echoed Lazy. "Where shall I find her'?" "You will find a description of her," replied Charity, "in Proverbs, sixth chapter, sixth, seventh, and eighth verses, which read as follows: 'Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise; which, having no guide, overseer, or ruler, provided her meat in summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest.'"

7. MORAL. Instead of waiting and wishing for a rich UNCLE to die, go and see how a rich ANT lives.

QUESTIONS.—1. Where is the quotation in the 3d paragraph to be found? Answer. John, 16th chapter, 24th verse. 2. Where, the quotation in the sixth paragraph? 3. Why does it commence with a half quotation? Answer. Because it denotes a quotation within a quotation.

LESSON VIII.

HAUGH'TY, proud; disdainful. PAR TIC' U LAR LY, especially. TRANS ACT', do; perform. A BASH' ED, confused. DIS COV' ER, find out. EX AM' INE (egz am' in), look over; inspect. REC' TI FY, correct; make right. REC' OM PENSE, reward. DE SERVES', merits. DE CLIN' ING, failing. PRE VENT' ED, hindered. AP PRO BA' TION, approval. PRE'CEPTS, instructions; counsels. BEN E FAC' TOR, friend; one that benefits. A MASS' ED, gathered. A DAPT' ED, suited. CON FI DEN' TIAL, trusty; trusted. IN TEG' RI TY, honesty.

FAITHFULNESS IN LITTLE THINGS.

ELIZA A. CHASE.

1. "Is Mr. Harris in'?" inquired a plainly, but neatly dressed boy, twelve or thirteen years of age, of a clerk, as he stood by the counter of a large bookstore.

The clerk regarded the boy with a haughty look, and answered: "Mr. Harris is in; but he is engaged."

2. The boy looked at the clerk hesitatingly, and then said: "If he is not particularly engaged, I would like to see him."

"If you have any business to transact, I can attend to it," replied the clerk. "Mr. Harris can not be troubled with boys like you."

3. "What is this, Mr. Morley?" said a pleasant-looking man, stepping up to the clerk; "what does the boy want?"

"He insisted on seeing you, though I told him you were engaged," returned the clerk, a little abashed by the manner of his employer.

4. "And what do you wish to see me about, my lad?" inquired Mr. Harris, kindly.

The boy raised his eyes, and, meeting the scornful glance of the clerk, said timidly: "I wish you to look at the bill of some books which I bought here, about three months since. There is a mistake in it, which I wish to correct."

5. "Ah, my boy, I see," replied Mr. Harris; "you have overpaid us, I suppose!"

"No, sir," answered the boy. "On the contrary, I purchased some books which are not charged in the bill, and I have called to pay for them."

6. Mr. Harris looked at the boy earnestly for a moment, and then asked: "When did you discover this mistake?"

"Not until I reached home," replied the lad. "When I paid for the books I was in a great hurry, fearing the boat would leave before I could reach it, and I did not examine the bill."

7. "Why did you not return before, and rectify the mistake?" asked the gentleman, in a tone slightly altered.

"Because, sir, I live some distance from the city, and have not been able to return till now."

8. "My dear boy," said Mr. Harris, "you have given me great pleasure. In a long life of mercantile business, I have never met with an instance of this kind before. You have acted nobly and deserve a recompense."

"I ask no recompense," returned the boy. "I have done nothing but my duty—a simple act of justice, and that deserves no reward, but itself."

9. "May I ask who taught you such noble principles'?" inquired Mr. Harris.

"My mother'," answered the boy, bursting into tears.

10. "Blessed is the child who has such a mother," said Mr. Harris, "and blessed is the mother of such a child. Be faithful to her teachings, my dear boy, and you will be the staff of her declining years."

"Alas, sir," said the boy, "my mother is dead! It was her sickness and death which prevented me from coming here before."

11. "What is your name?" inquired Mr. Harris.

"Edward Delong."

"Have you a father living'?"

"No, sir. My father died when I was an infant."

12. "Where do you reside?"

"In the town of Linwood, about fifty miles from this city."

"Well, my boy, what are the books which were forgotten?"

"Tacitus and a Latin Dictionary."

13. "Let me see the bill. Ha! signed by A. C. Morley. I will see to that. Here, Mr. Morley!" called Mr. Harris; but the clerk was busily engaged in waiting on a customer at the opposite side of the store, bowing and smiling in the most attentive manner.

14. "Edward," continued Mr. Harris, "I am not going to reward you for what you have done; but I wish to manifest my approbation of your conduct in such a manner, as to make you remember the wise and excellent precepts of your departed mother. Select from my store any ten books you choose, which, in addition to the two you had before, shall be a present to you; and henceforth, as now, my boy, remember and not 'despise the day of small things.' If ever you need a friend, call on me, and I will assist you."

15. The grateful boy thanked his kind benefactor, and, with tears in his eyes, bowed and left the store.

Edward Delong wished for knowledge, and, though the scanty means left him by his mother, could hardly satisfy his desire, by diligence and economy he had advanced far beyond most boys of his age. By working nights and mornings for a neighbor, he had amassed, what seemed to him, a large sum of money, and this was expended in books.

16. Edward's home was now with a man who regarded money as the chief end and aim of life, and severe and constant physical labor as the only means of obtaining that end. For two years Edward struggled with his hopeless condition, toiling early and late to obtain a livelihood.

17. Edward now resolved to go to the city, to seek some employment, better adapted to promote his education. He entered the same store where he purchased the books, and inquired for Mr. Harris.

"He is engaged," replied the polite clerk. "If you will wait a moment, he will be at liberty."

18. "Did you wish to see me?" asked Mr. Harris of the boy, whose thoughts were so intense that he had not noticed the approach of his friend.

"Mr. Harris!" exclaimed Edward, and it was all he could say. For the remembrance of past favors bestowed on him by his kind benefactor, so filled his heart with gratitude, that further utterance was denied.

"My noble Edward!" said the old gentleman. "And so you needed a friend. Well, you shall have one."

19. Five years from that time, Edward Delong was the confidential clerk of Mr. Harris, and, in three more, a partner in the firm. The integrity of purpose, which first won the regard of his benefactor, was his guide in after life. Prosperity crowned his efforts, and happiness blessed his heart,—the never-failing result of faithfulness in little things.

QUESTIONS.—1. Why did Edward Delong wish to see Mr. Harris? 2. Had he overpaid for the books he purchased? 3. What did he say when Mr. Harris told him he deserved a recompense? 4. What books were not charged in the bill? 5. In what way did Mr. Harris manifest his approval of Edward's conduct? 6. How long after this, before he again called on Mr. Harris? 7. Why could he not, at first, talk with Mr. Harris? 8. What did Edward finally become?

LESSON IX.

GRACE' FUL LY, beautifully. PROUD' LY, splendidly. FOR' EIGN (for' en), distant. CLIMES, countries; regions. SYM' BOL, sign; emblem. FEAR' FUL, dreadful; terrible. CAN' NON RY, discharge of cannon. JU' BI LEE, season of public joy. WIT' NESS ED, seen; beheld. NA' TIVE, birth-giving. BOON, gift; blessing. PAR' A DISE, blissful abode.

THE AMERICAN BOY.

SON.

FATHER.

SON.

FATHER.

SON.

FATHER.

SON.

(^oo) HURRAH, FOR FREEDOM'S JUBILEE,

God bless our native land!

And may I live to hold the boon

Of freedom in my hand.

FATHER.

QUESTIONS.—1. Of what is our flag a symbol? 2. What is meant by Freedom's jubilee? 3. What is the use of the apostrophes in the words I'd, I'm, I've, &c.

LESSON X.

BIL' LOWS, waves; surges. DE LIGHT', joy; pleasure. DOOM, fate; end. TWINK' LES, sparkles. GLARE, bright, dazzling light. EX PANSE', surface; extent. SWEEP, pass or drive over. RIFE, filled; abounding. VOY' AGE, passage; journey. AN' CHOR ED, moored; fixed. HA' VEN, harbor. PEACE' FUL LY, quietly; calmly.

THE SAILOR BOY'S SONG.

WRITTEN BY A GIRL THIRTEEN YEARS OF AGE.

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

QUESTIONS.—1. What is meant by coral tomb, 2d verse? 2. What, by watery pillow, third verse.

LESSON XI.

FOUN DA' TION, commencement. DO MES' TI CA TED, tamed. FA' VOR ITE, one specially favored. CA RESS' ED, fondled; petted. GAM' BOL ING, skipping; frolicking. IM' PULSE, feeling of excitement. DI LAT' ED, distended. SPEC TA' TORS, observers; lookers on. EN DEAV' OR ED, tried; attempted. ANX' IOUS, very desirous. IN TER CEPT', (INTER, between; CEPT, to take or seize;) to stop on the way. BE TRAY' ED, showed; disclosed. RE STRAIN' ED, held back; checked. COW' ED, depressed with fear. EN GRAV' ED, cut; inscribed.

In this lesson every pause is marked with its appropriate inflection.

CHASE OF THE PET FAWN.

MISS COOPER.

1. Within twenty years from the foundation of our village', [Footnote: Cooperstown, New York.] the deer had already become scarce', and', in a brief period later', they had almost entirely fled from the country`. One of the last of these beautiful creatures, a pretty little fawn, had been brought in from the woods, when it was very young, and had been nursed and petted by a young lady in the village, until it became completely domesticated.

2. It was graceful, as those little creatures always are, and so gentle and playful that it became a great favorite. Following the different members of the family about, it was caressed and welcomed everywhere. One morning, after gamboling about as usual, until weary, it threw itself down in the sunshine, at the feet of one of its friends, upon the door-step of a store.

3. There came along a countryman, who, for several years, had been a hunter by pursuit, and who still kept several hounds, one of which came to the village with him, on this occasion. The dog, as it approached the place where the fawn lay, suddenly stopped; the little animal saw him, and darted to its feet.

4. It had lived more than half its life among the villagers, and had apparently lost all fear of them; but it now seemed to know instinctively that an enemy was at hand. In an instant, its whole character and appearance seemed changed; all its past habits were forgotten; every wild impulse was awake; its head erect, its nostrils dilated, its eyes flashing.

5. In another instant, before the spectators had thought of the danger, and before its friends could secure it, the fawn was leaping wildly through the street, and the hound in full chase. The by-standers were eager to save it; several persons instantly followed its track; the friends who had long fed and fondled it, were calling the name it had hitherto known; but, in vain.

6. The hunter endeavored to call back his dog; but, with no better success. In half a minute, the fawn had turned the first corner, dashed onward toward the lake, and thrown itself into the water. But, if, for a moment, the startled creature believed itself safe in the lake, it was soon undeceived; for the hound followed in hot and eager chase, while a dozen village dogs joined in the pursuit.

7. A large crowd collected on the bank—men, women, and children,—anxious for the fate of the little animal. Some threw themselves into boats, hoping to intercept the hound before he reached his prey. But the splashing of the oars, the voices of men and boys, and the barking of the dogs, must have filled the beating heart of the poor fawn with terror and anguish; as if every creature on the spot where it had once been caressed and fondled, had suddenly turned into a deadly foe.

8. It was soon seen that the fawn was directing its course across a bay, toward the nearest borders of the forest. Immediately the owner of the hound crossed the bridge, ran at full speed in the same direction, hoping to stop his dog as he landed. On swam the fawn, as it had never swam before; its delicate head scarcely seen above the water, but leaving a disturbed track which betrayed its course alike to anxious friends and fierce enemies.

9. As it approached the land, the interest became intense. The hunter was already on the same side of the lake, calling loudly and angrily to his dog; but the animal seemed to have quite forgotten his master's voice in the pitiless pursuit. The fawn touched the land; in one leap, it had crossed the narrow piece of beach, and, in another instant, it would reach the cover of the woods.

10. The hound followed true to the scent, aiming at the same spot on the shore. His master, anxious to meet him, had run at full speed, and was now coming up at the same critical moment. Would the dog listen to his voice? Could the hunter reach him in time to seize and control him? A shout from the spectators proclaimed that the fawn had passed out of sight into the forest. At the same instant, the hound, as he touched the land, felt the hunter's strong arm clutching his neck.

11. The worst was believed to be over; the fawn was leaping up the mountain-side, and its enemy restrained. The other dogs, seeing their leader cowed, were easily managed. A number of men and boys dispersed themselves through the wood in search of the little creature; but, without success. They all returned to the village, reporting that the animal had not been seen by them. Some persons thought that, after its fright had passed over, it would return of its own accord.

12. It wore a pretty collar with its owner's name engraved upon it, so that it could be easily known from any other fawn, that might be straying about the woods. Before many hours had passed, a hunter presented himself before the lady, whose pet the little creature had been, and showed a collar with her name upon it. He said that he was out hunting in the morning, and saw a fawn in the distance. The little creature, instead of bounding away as he expected, moved toward him. He took aim, fired, and shot it to the heart.

13. When he found the collar about its neck, he was very sorry he had killed it. One would have thought that that terrible chase would have made it afraid of man; but no; it forgot the evil, and remembered the kindness only; and came to meet, as a friend, the hunter who shot it. It was long mourned by its best friend.

QUESTIONS.—1. Where did the lady reside who kept this pet fawn? 2. Is there a lake near that village? 3. What river rises in that lake? 4. Describe the chase of the pet fawn. 5. How came it to be shot? 6. What did it forget, and what remember?

LESSON XII.

IN' FLU ENCE, moral power. DROOP' ED. bent over; languished. TING' ED, stained; colored. DEL' I CATE, soft; tender. TRIB' UTE, pay; requital. CASE' MENT, window. PERCH' ED, alighted. PLAINT' IVE, sorrowful. AF FRIGHT' ED, alarmed. TIM' ID, fearful; timorous. RE STRAIN' ED, held back. AT TEST', bear witness. SUA' SION, act of persuading. COM PLI' ANCE, submission. PAL' ED, inclosed. DE BAS' ED, degraded. DE' VI ATE, wander; stray. LE' NI ENT, mild; merciful.

KINDNESS.

KATE CLARENCE.

1. Not man alone, but every thing in nature, owns its influence. I knew a little flower that sprang up amidst the weeds and brambles of a long-neglected garden; but soon drooped its slender stem, and its leaves grew tinged from the waste around.

2. I took it to my home, supported its drooping stem, and placed it where the warm sunshine and refreshing showers cheered its little life. Again it raised its beautiful head, and its delicate buds burst forth in gladness; and when the winds of autumn came, the dying flower gave up to me its golden seeds—a thankful tribute for my love. 'Twas a little thing, but kindness did the deed.

3. There came to my casement, one winter's morning, a shivering, starving bird, and perched itself there, striving to tell its tale of suffering; but feeble were its plaintive notes, and its glossy breast was ruffled in the blast. I raised the window. Affrighted, the little wanderer spread its wings, as if to soar away; but, weak and faint, it sank fluttering in my outstretched hands. I drew it in. Alarmed, it darted round and round the room, and beat against the frosted pane. O Cruelty! thou hast taught even the little birds to doubt!

4. When the little stranger grew less timid, I gave it clear water, and tempting food, and so, for many weeks, we dwelt together; but when came the first warm, sunny day, I opened my doors, and it flew away,—away up, up into the dark-blue heavens, till it was lost to my eager gaze.

5. But not an hour had passed, ere I heard the flutter of its tiny wings, and saw, without, its little breast glittering in the golden sunbeams. It had a joyous life. No wired cage restrained its restless wing; but, free as the summer cloud, would it come each day, and gladly would my delighted soul drink in the silvery notes of its gladdening melody.

6. And it is not birds and flowers alone, that, treated with kindness flourish so brightly 'neath its heaven-born rays. Individuals, families, nations, attest its truth. Legal suasion may frighten to compliance, but moral suasion rules the will.

7. To the erring wanderer, in the by and forbidden paths of sin, with a heart paled in darkness, and lost to every better feeling of his nature, one little word, one little act of kindness, however slight, will find a sunny resting-place in that sinful shade, and prove a light to guide the wayward one to holier and better deeds. The lion licked the hand that drew the thorn from his wounded foot; and Powhatan stayed the descending club, when the burning lips of the Indian girl pressed the prisoner's [Footnote: Captain Smith] pallid brow.

8. And it is ever thus. There beats not a heart, however debased by sin, or darkened by sorrow, that has not its noblest impulses aroused, in view of a generous and kindly action. The Holy Father implanted His own pure principles in the breast of every one, and widely do we deviate from their just dictates, when an unkind word, or an unkind act, wounds a broken heart, or crushes a loving, gentle nature.

QUESTIONS.—1. On what has kindness an influence? 2. What influence had it upon the little flower? 3. What, upon the little bird? 4. What is said of cruelty? 5. What is said of legal and moral suasion? 6. What is said of the lion? 7. Of Powhatan? 8. Why ought we not to speak harshly?

LESSON XIII.

SHAFT, arrow; here, careless word. MES' SEN GERS, message-bearers. PANG, distress; anguish. SPELLS, charms; enchantments. SEAL' ED, closed up; under seal. SEP' UL CHER, (ch like k), grave; tomb. SUM' MON ED, called. AG' O NY, extreme suffering. WRING, writhe. UN A WARES, unconsciously. MIN' GLES, unites; mixes. EN DEAR' ING, kind; affectionate. E CLIPSE', darkness; obscuration. CHER' ISH ED, fostered. EN SHRIN' ED, sacredly preserved. UT' TER ED, expressed.

CARELESS WORDS.

QUESTIONS.—1. What is said of careless words? 2. What, of sweet words? 3. What is the use of the apostrophe in wak'ning, third verse? 4. What is the meaning of the suffix less, in the words careless, heedless? See SANDERS' NEW SPELLER, DEFINER, AND ANALYZER, page 143, Ex. 369.

LESSON XIV.

VEG' E TA BLES, plants. DEP RE DA' TION, robbery; plunder. CAP TUR' ING, catching. TRES' PASS ER, transgressor. AP PEAL' ED, referred. COUN' SEL, lawyer; advocate. AR' GU MENT, plea; reason. URG' ING, enforcing; advocating. MIS' CHIEV OUS, hurtful; injurious. PRAC' TI CAL, pertaining to practice. DIS TIN' GUISH ED, celebrated. JU' RIST, one versed in law. AF FECT' ED, moved; impressed. FUR' NISH ED, supplied. VI' O LA TED, broken; transgressed. DE PRIVE', rob; hinder. AL LUD' ED, referred; adverted. RE STORE', give back.

WEBSTER AND THE WOODCHUCK.

BOSTON TRAVELER.

1. Ebenezer Webster, the father of Daniel, was a farmer. The vegetables in his garden had suffered considerably from the depredations of a woodchuck, which had his hole or habitation near the premises. Daniel, some ten or twelve years old, and his older brother Ezekiel, had set a trap, and finally succeeded in capturing the trespasser.

2. Ezekiel proposed to kill the animal, and end, at once, all further trouble from him; but Daniel looked with compassion upon his meek, dumb captive, and offered to let him again go free. The boys could not agree, and they appealed to their father to decide the case.

3. "Well, my boys," said the old gentleman, "I will be the judge. There is the prisoner, (pointing to the wood-chuck,) and you shall be the counsel, and plead the case for and against his life and liberty."

4. Ezekiel opened the case with a strong argument, urging the mischievous nature of the criminal, the great harm he had already done; said that much time and labor had been spent in his capture, and now, if he were suffered to live and go again at large, he would renew his depredations, and be cunning enough not to suffer himself to be caught again.

5. He urged, further, that his skin was of some value, and that, to make the most of him they could, it would not repay half the damage he had already done. His argument was ready, practical, to the point, and of much greater length than our limits will allow us to occupy in relating the story.

6. The father looked with pride upon his son, who became a distinguished jurist in his manhood. "Now, Daniel, it is your turn: I'll hear what you have to say."

7. It was his first case. Daniel saw that the plea of his brother had sensibly affected his father, the judge; and as his large, brilliant, black eyes looked upon the soft, timid, expression of the animal, and he saw it tremble with fear in its narrow prison-house, his heart swelled with pity, and he urged, with eloquent words, that the captive might again go free.

8. "God," he said, "had made the woodchuck; he made him to live, to enjoy the bright sunlight, the pure air, the free fields and woods. God had not made him, or any thing, in vain; the woodchuck had as much right to life as any other living thing."

9. "He was not a destructive animal, as the wolf and the fox were; he simply ate a few common vegetables, of which they had plenty, and could well spare a part; he destroyed nothing except the little food he needed to sustain his humble life; and that little food was as sweet to him, and as necessary to his existence, as was to them the food upon their mother's table."

10. "God furnished to them food; he gave them all they possessed; and would they not spare a little for the dumb creature, that really had as much right to his small share of God's bounty, as they themselves had to their portion?"

11. "Yea, more, the animal had never violated the laws of his nature or the laws of God, as man often did; but strictly followed the simple, harmless instincts he had received from the hand of the Creator of all things. Created by God's hand, he had a right—a right from God—to life, to food, to liberty; and they had no right to deprive him of either."

12. He alluded to the mute, but earnest pleadings of the animal for that life, as sweet, as dear to him, as their own was to them, and the just judgment they might expect, if, in selfish cruelty and cold heartlessness, they took the life they could not restore—the life that God alone had given.

13. During this appeal, the tears had started to the old man's eyes, and were fast running down his sun-burnt cheeks; every feeling of a father's heart was stirred within him; he saw the future greatness of his son before his eyes, he felt that God had blessed him in his children, beyond the lot of most men.

14. His pity and sympathy were awakened by the eloquent words of compassion, and the strong appeal for mercy; and, forgetting the judge in the man and father, he sprang from his chair, (while Daniel was in the midst of his argument, without thinking he had already won his case,) and, turning to his older son, dashing the tears from his eyes, exclaimed, "Ezekiel, Ezekiel, you let that woodchuck go!"

QUESTIONS.—1. What did Ezekiel propose to do with the woodchuck after he was caught? 2. What argument did he offer for so doing? 3. What did Daniel wish to do with him? 4. What argument did he offer? 4. What was their father's decision?

LESSON XV.

SOLVE, explain; work out. PROB' LEM, question for solution. COM PELL' ED, obliged. IN' DO LENT, idle; lazy. DINT, force; means. CON' SCIOUS, self-perceived; felt. DEM ON STRA' TION, formal proof. RE CLIN' ING, leaning back. PON' DERS, weighs; examines. PROC' ESS, operation.

DO IT YOURSELF.

1. Do not ask the teacher or some classmate to solve that hard problem. DO IT YOURSELF. You might as well let him eat your dinner as "do your sums" for you. It is in studying as in eating; he who does it, gets the benefit, and not he who sees it done. In almost any school, the teacher learns more than the best scholars, simply because he is compelled to solve all the difficult problems, and answer all the questions of the indolent pupils.

2. Do not ask your teacher to parse that difficult word, or assist you in the performance of any of your studies. DO IT YOURSELF. Never mind, though they do look dark. Do not ask even a hint from any one. TRY AGAIN. Every trial increases your ability, and you will finally succeed by dint of the very wisdom and strength gained in the effort, even though, at first, the problem was beyond your skill. It is the study, and not the answer, that really rewards your labor.

3. Look at that boy, who has just succeeded after six hours of hard study. How his large eye is lit up with a proud joy, as he marches to his class! He treads like a conqueror! And well he may. Last night his lamp burned, and this morning he waked at dawn. Once or twice he nearly gave it up. He had tried his last thought; but a new thought strikes him, and he ponders the last process. He tries once more, and succeeds; and now mark the air of conscious strength with which he pronounces his demonstration.

4. His poor, weak schoolmate, who gave up that same problem, after his first trial, now looks up to him with something of a wonder, as a superior being. And he is his superior. That problem lies there, a great gulf between those boys who stood side by side yesterday.

5. The boy who did it for himself, has taken a stride upward, and what is better still, has gained strength to take other and better ones. The boy who waited to see others do it, has lost both strength and courage, and is already looking for some good excuse to give up school and study forever.

6. DO IT YOURSELF. Remember the counsel given to the artist, who lay reclining upon his couch, and wondering what the fates would work out for him. Directing his attention to a block of unhewn marble, with a chisel lying by its side, the sculptor in the vision is represented as thus addressing him: "Sir,

QUESTIONS.—1. Who is benefited in studying? 2. What really rewards the labor of study? 3. What is said of the boy who succeeded after six hours of hard study? 4. What, of the boy who gave up, after the first trial? 5. What counsel was given to the artist who wondered what the fates would work out for him? How are the words to be read, which are printed in Italics and in capitals? See page 22, Note III.

LESSON XVI.

SLACK' EN, relax; lessen. EN DEAV' OR, effort; exertion. WHOLE' SOME, useful; salutary. EX CEL', surpass; outdo. OUT STRIP' PED, outrun; excelled. SUR PASS' ED, excelled. VIC' TO RY, conquest; triumph. UT' TER MOST, very best. DAR' ING, courage; bravery. DE FECT', fault; deficiency. REPIN'ING, fretting; complaining. UN A VAIL' ING, vain; useless. COR RECT', amend; make right. MAX' IM, proverb; saying.

BETTER LATE THAN NEVER.

QUESTIONS.—1. To what is life compared, first verse? 2. What advice is given if you chance to fall behind? 3. How ought you to treat your competitors? 4. What is a very common failing? 5. How may it be corrected? 6. What is the use of the apostrophe in the word repining's, fifth verse?

LESSON XVII.

A DOPT' ED, taken as one's own. PIL' LAR ED, supported by pillars. TWI' LIGHT, faint light after sunset and before sunrise. THYME, (time,) fragrant plant. VINE' YARD, plantation of grapevines. DYE, hue; color. SPARK' LING, emitting bubbles.

THE ADOPTED CHILD.

MISS. HEMANS.

LADY.

Why wouldst thou leave me, O gentle child? Thy home on the mountains is bleak and wild, A straw-roofed cabin with lowly wall; Mine is a fair and a pillared hall, Where many an image of marble gleams, And the sunshine of picture forever streams.

BOY.

Oh, green is the turf where my brothers play, Through the long, bright hours of the summer-day; They find the red cup-moss where they climb, And they chase the bee o'er the scented thyme; And the rocks where the heath-flower blooms they know, Lady, kind lady! oh, let me go!

LADY.

Content thee, boy, in my bower to dwell; Here are sweet sounds which thou lovest well,— Flutes on the air in the stilly noon, Harps which the wandering breezes tune, And the silvery wood-note of many a bird Whose voice was ne'er in thy mountains heard.

BOY.

My mother sings, at the twilight's fall, A song of the hills, far more sweet than all; She sings it under our own green tree, To the babe half-slumbering on her knee; I dreamed, last night, of that music low,— Lady, kind lady! oh, let me go!

LADY.

(pl.) Thy mother hath gone from her cares to rest; She hath taken the babe on her quiet breast; Thou wouldst meet her footstep, my boy, no more, Nor hear her song at the cabin-door: Come thou with me to the vineyards nigh, And we'll pluck the grapes of the richest dye.

BOY.

Is my mother gone from her home away?— But I know that my brothers are there at play, I know they are gathering the fox-glove's bell, Or the long fern leaves by the sparkling well; Or they launch their boats where the bright streams flow, Lady, kind lady! oh, let me go!

LADY.

Fair child, thy brothers are wanderers now, They sport no more on the mountain's brow; They have left the fern by the spring's green side, And the streams where the fairy barks were tried: Be thou at peace in thy brighter lot, For thy cabin-home is a lonely spot.

BOY.

Are they gone, all gone from the sunny hill? But the bird and the blue-fly rove o'er it still, And the red deer bound in their gladness free, And the heath is bent by the singing bee, And the waters leap, and the fresh winds blow,— Lady, kind lady! oh, let me go!

QUESTIONS.—1. What kind of words are straw-roofed, heath-flower, wood-note, &c.? 2. What is the use of the apostrophes in the words o'er, ne'er, twilight's, &c.?

LESSON XVIII.

AP PAR' ENT LY, evidently. CEN' TU RY, hundred years. GI GAN' TIC, very large. SPE' CIES, sort; kind. DI MEN' SION, size; bulk. SUB LIME', grand; magnificent. UN MO LEST' ED, free from disturbance. DIS PERS' ED, separated; scattered. CLAM' OR OUS, noisy; importunate. IN DE CIS' ION, doubt; irresolution. POIS' ED, balanced. AT' MOS PHERE, surrounding air. TAL' ONS, claws. DIS TRI BU' TION, division. EC' STA SY, excessive joy; transport. PER' SE CUT ED, harassed; injured.

THE OLD EAGLE TREE.

REV. JOHN TODD.

1. In a remote field stood a large tulip tree, apparently of a century's growth, and one of the most gigantic of that splendid species. It looked like the father of the surrounding forest. A single tree, of huge dimensions, standing all alone, is a sublime object.

2. On the top of this tree, an old eagle, commonly called the "Fishing Eagle," had built her nest every year, for many years, and, unmolested, raised her young. What is remarkable, as she procured her food from the ocean, this tree stood full ten miles from the sea-shore. It had long been known as the "Old Eagle tree."

3. On a warm, sunny day, the workmen were hoeing corn in an adjoining field. At a certain hour of the day, the old eagle was known to set off for the sea-side, to gather food for her young. As she this day returned with a large fish in her claws, the workmen surrounded the tree, and, by yelling, and hooting, and throwing stones, so scared the poor bird that she dropped her fish, and they carried it off in triumph.

4. The men soon dispersed; but Joseph sat down under a bush near by, to watch, and to bestow unavailing pity. The bird soon returned to her nest without food. The eaglets at once set up a cry for food, so shrill, so clear, and so clamorous, that the boy was greatly moved.

5. The parent bird seemed to try to soothe them; but their appetites were too keen, and it was all in vain. She then perched herself on a limb near them, and looked down into the nest with a look that seemed to say, "I know not what to do next."

6. Her indecision was but momentary; again she poised herself, uttered one or two sharp notes, as if telling them to "lie still," balanced her body, spread her wings, and was away again for the sea!

7. Joseph was determined to see the result. His eyes followed her till she grew small, smaller,—a mere speck in the sky,—and then disappeared. What boy has not often watched the flight of the bird of his country in this way?

8. She was gone nearly two hours, about double her usual time for a voyage, when she again returned, on a slow, weary wing, flying uncommonly low, in order to have a heavier atmosphere to sustain her, with another fish in her talons.

9. On nearing the field, she made a circuit around it, to see if her enemies were again there. Finding the coast clear, she once more reached her tree, drooping, faint, and weary, and evidently nearly exhausted. Again the eaglets set up their cry, which was soon hushed by the distribution of a dinner, such as—save the cooking—a king might admire.

10. "GLORIOUS BIRD!" cried the boy in ecstacy, and aloud; "what a spirit! Other birds can fly swifter, others can sing more sweetly, others can scream more loudly; but what other bird, when persecuted and robbed—when weary —when discouraged—when so far from sea,—would have done this!

11. "GLORIOUS BIRD! I will learn a lesson from thee to-day. I will never forget hereafter, that when the spirit is determined, it can do almost anything. Others would have drooped and hung the head, and mourned over the cruelty of man, and sighed over the wants of the nestlings; but thou, by at once recovering the loss, hast forgotten all.

12. "I will learn of thee, noble bird! I will remember this. I will set my mark high. I will try to do something, and to be something in the world; I will never yield to discouragements."

QUESTIONS.—1. How far was this Old Eagle tree from the seashore? 2. In what way did the workmen obtain the fish she brought for her young? 3. What is said of the eaglets and the parent bird, when she returned to the nest? 4. What did she then do? 5. What did Joseph say when she returned with another fish?

LESSON XIX.

AUC' TION, vendue; public sale. HOME' LESS, (LESS, without or destitute of,) without home. PEN' NI LESS, destitute of pennies. WASTE' LESS, without waste. UN LIGHT' ED, (UN, not,) not lighted. SELF' ISH NESS, devoted to one's self. RE VERSE' (RE, back or again; VERSE, turn), turn back, or exchange places. AC QUIRE', gain; obtain. IL LUS TRA' TION, explanation. SOL' I TA RY, single. DIS PEL', drive away; disperse. BE NIGHT' ED, unenlightened.

THE LIGHT OF KNOWLEDGE.

ELIHU BURRITT.

1. Knowledge can not be stolen from you. It can not be bought or sold. You may be poor, and the sheriff come into your house, and sell your furniture at auction, or drive away your cow, or take your lamb, and leave you homeless and penniless; but he can not lay the law's hand upon the jewelry of your mind. This can not be taken for debt; neither can you give it away, though you give enough of it to fill a million minds.

2. I will tell you what such giving is like. Suppose, now, that there were no sun nor stars in the heavens, nor any thing that shone in the black brow of night; and suppose that a lighted lamp were put into your hand, which should burn wasteless and clear amid all the tempests that should brood upon this lower world.

3. Suppose next, that there were a thousand millions of human beings on the earth with you, each holding in his hand an unlighted lamp, filled with the same oil as yours, and capable of giving as much light. Suppose these millions should come, one by one, to you, and light each his lamp by yours, would they rob you of any light? Would less of it shine on your own path? Would your lamp burn more dimly for lighting a thousand millions?

4. Thus it is, young friends. In getting rich in the things which perish with the using, men have often obeyed to the letter that first commandment of selfishness: "Keep what you can get, and get what you can." In filling your minds with the wealth of knowledge, you must reverse this rule, and obey this law: "Keep what you give, and give what you can."

5. The fountain of knowledge is filled by its outlets, not by its inlets. You can learn nothing which you do not teach; you can acquire nothing of intellectual wealth, except by giving. In the illustration of the lamps, which I have given you, was not the light of the thousands of millions which were lighted at yours, as much your light, as if it all came from your solitary lamp? Did you not dispel darkness by giving away light?

6. Remember this parable, and, whenever you fall in with an unlighted mind in your walk of life, drop a kind and glowing thought upon it from yours, and set it a-burning in the world with a light that shall shine in some dark place to beam on the benighted.

QUESTIONS.—1. What is said of knowledge? 2. What is the giving of knowledge like? 3. In getting rich, what precept have men obeyed? 4. What precept must be obeyed in getting knowledge? 5. How is knowledge best acquired? 6. What is meant by the jewelry of the mind, first paragraph? 7. What, by intellectual wealth, fifth paragraph?

LESSON XX.

EX TIN' GUISH ED, put out. SOL' EMN, grave; serious. GAR' RI SON, fortress furnished with soldiers, for defense. SEN' TI NEL, soldier on guard. CAR A VAN, company of traveling traders or pilgrims. CON STEL LA' TIONS, clusters of fixed stars. BRILL' IANT, shining; sparkling. HOST, great multitude. EX' TRA, additional. CRES' CENT, form of the new moon. HAIL' ED, saluted. EF FUL' GENCE, splendor. RE' GEN CY, rule; government. WAN' ING, decreasing. SUP PLI CA TION, prayer; petition. RAPT' URE, great joy; transport.

[Headnote 1: PAL' ES TINE includes that part of Turkey in Asia, lying on the eastern borders of the Mediterranean Sea.]

NIGHT'S LESSONS.

L.H. SIGOURNEY.

1. The lessons of our school are over. The lights in the distant windows are extinguished, one after the other. The village will soon be lost in slumber. When all the men and the women are asleep, must we keep awake to learn lessons?

2. In large cities, there may be heard, now and then, the rushing wheel of the traveler. The watchmen pace their round, and cry, "All is well." In the long, cold nights of Norway, the watchmen who guard the capitol, pronounce, in a solemn tone, "God bless our good city of Bergen!"

3. In the garrison, or the endangered fortress, the armed sentinel keeps watch, lest they should be surprised by the foe. But in this peaceful village there is no need of either sentinel or watchman. Why may we not go to sleep, instead of learning Night's lessons?

4. My son, one of these you may learn in a moment. Did you say that all will soon be sleeping? No! there is one Eye that never slumbers. He who made all the people, keepeth watch above the everlasting hills. Commit yourself to His care.

5. Now, will you learn with me the second lesson of the night? Lift your eyes to yon glorious canopy. Seest thou not there a sentinel, set by the Eternal, at the northern gate of heaven,—the pole-star?

6. The pole-star! Blessings are breathed upon it, by the weary caravan, fearing the poisonous wind of the desert,—by the red forest-children, seeking their home beyond the far Western prairies,—and by the lonely mariner, upon the pathless ocean.

7. The stars! See them! The oil in their lamps never burns out. These glorious constellations wheel their mighty course unchanged, while "man dieth and wasteth away, yea, man giveth up the ghost, and where is he?" [Footnote: Job, 14th chap., 10th verse.]

8. Yon brilliant orbs maintain their places, while countless generations pass away, and nations disappear and are forgotten. Let us bow in humility before "Him who bringeth out their host by number, who calleth them all by names, by the greatness of His might, for that He is strong in power; not one faileth." [Footnote: Isaiah. 40th chap., 26th verse.]

9. Thirteen times in the year, Night, the teacher, gives extra lessons. Will you be there to learn them? First, she hangs up a pale crescent in the west. The ancient Jews hailed its infant beam, and answering fires of joy were kindled on the hills of Palestine.[Headnote 1]

10. Next, she summons forth a rounded orb, clad in full effulgence, and commits to it the regency when the sun retires. Lastly, a slender, waning crescent appears nightly, like an aged man, ready to descend into the night of the tomb.

11. "Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth, Repeats the story of her birth; While all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole."

12. These are some of Night's lessons. Are you tired of them? Or, will you learn one more? Lift up your heart to Him who has given you the past day, with thanks for its blessings,—with penitence for its faults,—with supplication for strength and wisdom for the time that is to come.

13. "Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge" [Footnote: Psalm 19th, 2nd verse.] of God. Thus, meekly and faithfully studying Night's lessons, may we find

QUESTIONS.—1. Who watches over us when asleep? 2. In what way is the pole-star useful to man? 3. What is said of the stars? 4. What extra lessons is it that night gives thirteen times a year? 5. Describe the first appearance of the moon. 6. How does it next appear? 7. Where is Palestine? 8. Where are the passages to be found, quoted in the 7th, 8th, and 13th paragraphs? 9. Do you know who is the author of the 11th verse? Ans. Addison.

LESSON XXI.

HID' DEN, secret; concealed. QUAIL, sink; droop. SCORN' ING, disdaining. GREET' ING, salutation. VIEW' LESS, not to be seen. YEARN' ETH, longeth. CHANT, sing; carol. PORT' AL, entrance; gate-way. CHEER' Y, gay; lively. E TER' NI TY, endless duration.

NATURE'S TEACHINGS.

CHAMBERS' JOURNAL.

QUESTIONS.—1. What is meant by God's warning on the wall? See the 5th chap. of Daniel. 2. What is meant by minstrel-bird? Ans. The lark.

LESSON XXII.

GLARE, dazzling light. BLITHE' LY, gayly; joyfully. WROUGHT, worked; labored. RE MORSE', painful regret. WANE, decrease; grow less. FAN' CIES, whims; notions.

A NON.' is an abbreviation of anonymous, which means without name; nameless. See SANDERS' ANALYSIS, page 88, Exercise 108.

SOWING AND HARVESTING.

ANON.

QUESTIONS.—1. Who are meant by they in this lesson? 2. What is said of those who are sowing the seeds of word and deed? 3. What, of those who are sowing the seeds of care? 4. Repeat the last verse. 5. What passage of Scripture teaches the same idea? Ans. "Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap."—Gal., 6th chap., 7th verse.

LESSON XXIII.

FOR' TI FI ED, strengthened by works of art for defense. SUL' TRY, close; oppressively hot. BOAT' SWAIN, one who has charge of a ship's boats, rigging, &c. TARS, sailors. MOOR' ED, anchored. BUOYS, floats. AN' CHOR, iron instrument for holding ships. STAR' BOARD, right side of a ship. FORE' CAS TLE, short deck in the fore part of a ship. WAKE, track. BE REFT', deprived. IM' MI NENT, impending. PIERC' ED, went through. FORE AND AFT, before and behind. SWAY' ED, swung; moved. CAR' CASS, dead body. EX CITE' MENT, agitation. PHA' SES, forms; appearances.

[Headnote 1: SA HA' RA, is a Great Desert in Africa, lying south of the Barbary States, and extending from the Atlantic on the west to Egypt and Nubia on the east. The winds that come from this desert, are hot and suffocating.]

A THRILLING INCIDENT.

ANON.

1. Our noble ship lay at anchor in the Bay of Tangier, a fortified town in the extreme northwest of Africa. The day had been extremely mild, with a gentle breeze sweeping to the northward and westward; but, toward the close of the afternoon, the sea-breeze died away, and one of those sultry, oven-like breathings came from the great, sun-burnt Sahara [Headnote 1].

2. Half an hour before sundown, the captain gave the cheering order for the boatswain to call the hands to "go in swimming;" and, in less than five minutes, the forms of our tars were seen leaping from the arms of the lower yards, into the water. One of the studding sails, with its corners suspended from the main yard-arm and the swinging boom, had been lowered into the water, and into this most of the swimmers made their way.

3. Among those who seemed to be enjoying the sport most heartily, were two of the boys, Timothy Wallace and Frederic Fairbanks, the latter of whom was the son of our old gunner; and, in a laughing mood, they started out from the studding sail on a race. There was a loud ringing shout of joy on their lips as they put off, and they darted through the water like fishes. The surface of the sea was smooth as glass, though its bosom rose in long, heavy swells that set in from the Atlantic.

4. The vessel was moored with a long sweep from both cables, and one of the buoys of the anchor was far away on the starboard quarter, where it rose and fell with the lazy swells of the waves. Toward this buoy the two lads made their way, young Fairbanks taking the lead; but, when they were within about twenty or thirty fathoms of the buoy, Wallace shot ahead and promised to win the race.

5. The old gunner had watched the progress of his little son with a great degree of pride; and when he saw him drop behind, he leaped upon the quarter-deck, and was just upon the point of urging him on by a shout, when a cry was heard that struck him with instant horror.

6. "A shark! a shark!" was sounded from the captain of the forecastle; and, at the sound of these terrible words, the men who were in the water, leaped and plunged toward the ship. Right abeam, at the distance of three or four cables' lengths, was seen the wake of a shark in the water, where the back of the monster was visible. His course was for the boys.

7. For a moment, the gunner stood like one bereft of reason; but, on the next, he shouted at the top of his voice, for the boys to turn; but they heard him not. Stoutly the two swimmers strove for the goal, all unconscious of their imminent danger. Their merry laugh still rang over the waters, and, at length, they both touched the buoy together.

8. Oh, what agony filled the heart of the gunner! A boat had put off, but he knew that it could not reach the boys in season, and every moment he expected to see the monster sink from sight,—then he knew that all hope would be gone. At this moment, a cry reached the ship, that pierced every heart,—the boys had discovered their enemy.

9. The cry started the old gunner to his senses, and quicker than thought, he sprang from the quarter-deck. The guns were all loaded and shotted, fore and aft, and none knew their temper better than he. With steady hand, made strong by sudden hope, the old gunner seized a priming-wire and picked the cartridge of one of the quarter guns; then he took from his pocket a percussion cap, fixed it in its place, and set back the hammer of the patent lock.

10. With a giant strength the old man swayed the breech of the heavy gun to its bearing, and then seizing the string of the lock, he stood back and watched for the next swell that would bring the shark in range. He had aimed the piece some distance ahead of his mark; but yet a little moment would settle his hopes and fears.

11. Every breath was hushed, and every heart in that old ship beat painfully. The boat was yet some distance from the boys, while the horrid sea-monster was fearfully near. Suddenly the air was rent by the roar of the heavy gun; and, as the old man knew his shot was gone, he sank back upon the hatch, and covered his face with his hands, as if afraid to see the result of his own efforts; for, if he had failed, he knew that his boy was lost.

12. For a moment after the report of the gun had died away upon the air, there was an unbroken silence; but, as the dense smoke arose from the surface of the water, there was, at first, a low murmur breaking from the lips of the men,—that murmur grew louder and stronger, till it swelled to a joyous, deafening shout. The old gunner sprang to his feet, and gazed off on the water, and the first thing that met his view, was the huge carcass of the shark, floating on his back—a mangled, lifeless mass.

13. In a few moments, the boats reached the daring swimmers, and, greatly frightened, they were brought on board. The old man clasped his boy in his arms, and then, overcome by the powerful excitement, he leaned upon a gun for support. I have seen men in all the phases of excitement and suspense, but never have I seen three human beings more overcome by thrilling emotions, than on that startling moment when they first knew the effect of our gunner's shot.

QUESTIONS.—1. Where is the town of Tangier? 2. What order had been given by the captain of the vessel? 3. Who seemed most to enjoy the sport? 4. What is said of the old gunner? 5. What did he do? 6. What effect did his shot produce? 7. Describe the closing scene.

LESSON XXIV.

DIS GUISE', concealment. WAY' LAID, beset by the way. THREAT' EN ED, declared the intention. IN CLINE, dispose. RUF' FIANS, robbers; murderers. DIS TRIB'UTE, divide; apportion. TREAS' UR Y, place for keeping money. ALMS, gifts; donations. MI' SER LY, covetous; niggardly. SAL' A RY, wages; allowance for services. IN VOLV' ING, entangling. BE WIL' DER ED, puzzled; perplexed. LOG' IC, reasoning. SAGE, wise man. FUL FILL' ING, performing. E VA' SION, departure from truth. DE CEIT', deception; fraud.

THE TRUTHFUL KING.

1. A certain Persian king, while traveling in disguise, with but few attendants, was waylaid by robbers, who threatened to take not only his goods, but his life.

2. Feeling himself beyond the reach of human aid, he inwardly made a vow, that if God would incline the hearts of these ruffians to mercy, and restore him in safety to his family and people, he would distribute all the money then in his treasury, in alms to the needy of his realm.

3. The robbers, from some unknown cause, liberated him, and he soon reached home in safety, having sustained no injury, save the loss of the small purse of gold that he had carried in his girdle.

4. Desirous of keeping the vow he had made, he summoned his officers, and commanded them to make immediate distribution to the poor, of all that the treasury contained, at the time of his return.

5. But his officers, more miserly than himself, and, fearful that they might fall short in their salaries and pensions, began to urge upon the monarch the folly of keeping this rash vow, and the danger of thus involving himself and his kingdom in difficulties.

6. Finding he still remained firm, they took other grounds, and plausibly argued that the troops and other officials needed aid as well as the poor; and, as by the words of his vow, he had bound himself to distribute the contents of the treasury to those who had claim to relief, the public servants certainly came within the required limits.

7. Bewildered by their false logic, and sincerely desirous of doing right, he appealed to a certain sage who dwelt near the royal palace, and determined to abide by his decision.

8. The sage, after hearing the case, only asked the following simple question: "Of whom were you thinking when you made the vow,—the poor, or the public servants?" The monarch replied, "Of the poor." "Then," answered the sage, "it is to the poor you are bound to distribute these funds; for you are not really fulfilling your vow, unless you do that which you intended to do when it was made." The king was satisfied that this was the right decision, and did as the sage advised.

9. Let the young bear in mind that God is a being of truth, requiring truth in the inward heart; and, if they would have His approval, and that of their own consciences, they must avoid not only the outward appearance of falsehood, but the slightest evasion or deceit; and when promises have been made, fulfill not only the letter, but the spirit of that which they agreed to perform.

10. Beware of the first and slightest departure from truth, of the least endeavor to deceive, and even of the desire to have others believe what is not so. Let your motto be, "The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

QUESTIONS.—1. What happened to a certain Persian king? 2. What vow did he then make? 3. What objection did his officers make to this? 4. What did the king then do? 5. What was the sage's decision? 6. What motto ought you to adopt? 7. What rule for spelling the word traveling with one l? See SANDERS & McELLIGOTT'S ANALYSIS, page 13, Rule 10.