Which wave and glitter in the distant sun.
When if a sudden gust of wind arise,

The brittle forest into atoms flies;

The crackling wood beneath the tempest bends,
And in a spangled shower the prospect ends.
Or if a southern gale the region warm,
And by degrees unbind the wintry charm,
The traveller a miry country sees,

And journeys sad beneath the drooping trees.

[The second is by our own countryman, BRYANT.]

he boasts

But Winter has yet brighter scenes
Splendors beyond what gorgeous summer knows;
Or autumn with his many fruits, and woods

All flushed with many hues. Come when the rains
Have glazed the snow, and clothed the trees with ice,
While the slant sun of February pours
Into the bowers a flood of light. Approach!
Th' incrusted surface shall upbear thy steps,
And the broad, arching portals of the grove
Welcome thy entering. Look! the massy trunks
Are cased in the pure crystal; each light spray,
Nodding and tinkling in the breath of heaven,
Is studded with its trembling water drops,
That glimmer with an amethystine light.
But round the parent stem the long, low boughs
Bend, in a glittering ring, and arbors hide
The grassy floor. O, you might deem the spot
The spacious cavern of some virgin mine,

Deep in the womb of earth- where the gems grow,

And diamonds put forth radiant rods and bud
With amethyst and topaz-and the place
Lit up, most royally, with the pure beam
That dwells in them. Or haply the vast hall
Of fairy palace, that outlasts the night,

And fades not in the glory of the sun;
Where crystal columns send forth slender shafts
And crossing arches, and fantastic aisles
Wind from the sight in brightness, and are lost
Among the crowded pillars. Raise thine eye;
Thou seest no cavern roof, no palace vault;
There the blue sky and the white drifting cloud
Look in. Again the wildered fancy dreams
Of spouting fountains, frozen as they rose,
And fixed with all their branching jets, in air,
And all their sluices sealed. All, all is light;
Light without shade
But all shall pass away
With the next sun.
From numberless vast trunks,

Loosened, the crashing ice shall make a sound
Like the far roar of rivers, and the eve

Shall close o'er the brown woods as it was wont.

LXXX. THE WINGED WORSHIPPERS.

SPRAGUE.

[Charles Sprague is a native of Boston, and has always lived here. He is a man of business as well as a poet and scholar. His poetry is graceful and finished, and marked by a fine tone of moral feeling. Two swallows, having flown into church during divine service, were addressed in the following stanzas.]

GAY, guiltless pair,

What seek ye from the fields of heaven?

Ye have no need of prayer,

Ye have no sins to be forgiven.

Why perch ye here,

Where mortals to their Maker bend?

Can your pure spirits fear

The God ye never could offend?

Ye never knew

The crimes for which we come to weep:

Penance is not for you,

Blessed wanderers of the upper deep.

Then spread each wing,

Far, far above, o’er lakes and lands,
And join the choirs that sing
In yon blue dome not reared with hands.

Or, if ye stay

To note the consecrated hour,
Teach me the airy way,

And let me try your envied power.

Above the crowd

On upward wings could I but fly,
I'd bathe in yon bright cloud,
And seek the stars that gem the sky.

"Twere heaven indeed

Through fields of trackless light to soar, On nature's charms to feed,

And nature's own great God adore.

18*

[Maria Edgeworth was born in Oxford county, England, in 1767, and died in 1849. She was one of the most excellent writers of her time; her works being distinguished for their good sense, their sound moral tone, their accurate discrimination in the drawing of character, and their happy blending of humor and pathos. She did much for the cause of education, and the training of youthful minds.

The following lesson is from one of her novels called Patronage. Sir Robert Percy is in possession of an estate, which he had formerly recovered of his cousin, Lewis Percy, because the latter had lost his title deeds. In time the deeds are found, and Lewis Percy sues for the property, and his son, Alfred Percy, a young lawyer, is his counsel. At the trial, Sir Robert Percy produces a forged deed, and brings forward an old man, to swear falsely in support of it. This deed purports to have been drawn by Sir John Percy, the grandfather of both parties, and is called a deed of revocation; that is, a deed revoking, or setting aside, a previous conveyance under which Lewis Percy held his estate.]

WILLIAM CLERKE, the only surviving witness to the deed of revocation produced by Sir Robert Percy, was the person on whose evidence the cause principally rested. He was now summoned to appear, and room was made for him. He was upwards of eighty years of age: he came slowly into court, and stood supporting himself upon his staff, his head covered with thin gray hairs, his countenance placid and smiling, and his whole appearance so respectable, so venerable, as to prepossess immediately the jury and the court in his favor.

Alfred Percy could scarcely believe it possible that such a man as this could be induced to support a forgery. After being sworn, he was desired to sit down, which he did, bowing respectfully to the court. Sir Robert Percy's counsel proceeded to examine him as to the points they desired to establish.

"Your name is William Clerke - is it not?"

"My name is William Clerke," answered the old man, in a feeble voice.

"Did you ever see this paper before?" showing him the deed.

"I did. I was present when Sir John Percy signed it. He bade me witness it, that is, write my name at the bottom, which I did, and then he said, 'Take notice, William Clerke: this is

a deed revoking the deed by which I made over my Hampshire estate to my youngest grandson, Lewis Percy

The witness was going on, but the counsel interrupted. "You saw Sir John Percy sign this deed; you are sure of

"It is; the very same I saw him write; and here is my own name, that he bade me put just there."

“You can swear that this is your handwriting?"

"I can: I do."

"Do you recollect what time Sir John Percy signed this deed?"

"Yes; about three or four days before his death."

"Very well, that is all we want of you, Mr. Clerke."

Alfred Percy desired that Clerke should be detained that he might cross-examine him. The defendants went on, produced their evidence, examined all their witnesses, and established all they desired.

Then it came Alfred's turn to cross-examine the witnesses that had been produced by his adversary.

When William Clerke reappeared, Alfred regarding him steadfastly, the old man's countenance changed a little; but still he looked prepared to stand a cross-examination. In spite of all his efforts, however, he trembled.

"Your name is William Clerke, and this,” said Alfred, pointing to the witness's signature," is your handwriting?” "Yes, I say it is."

"You can write then?" putting a pen into his hand; "be so good as to write a few words in the presence of the court." He took the pen, but after making some fruitless attempts, replied, "I am too old to write. I have not been able to write my name these many years. Indeed, sir, indeed you are too hard upon one like me. God knows," said he, looking up to heaven, some thought with feeling, some suspected with hypocrisy-"God knows, sir, I speak the truth, and nothing but the