sable and slow-paced, who bore sadly to an open grave what once was animated and beautiful. They paused as they approached, and a voice broke the awful silence: "Mingle ashes with ashes, and dust with its original dust. To the earth whence it was taken, consign we the body of our sister. They covered her with the damp soil and the clods of the valley; and the worms crowded into her silent abode. Yet one sad mourner lingered, to cast himself upon the grave; and as he wept he said, "There is no beauty, or grace, or loveliness, that continueth in man; for this is the end of all his glory and perfection."

7. I have seen an infant with a fair brow, and a frame like polished ivory. Its limbs were pliant in its sports; it rejoiced, and again it wept; but whether its glowing cheek dimpled with smiles, or its blue eye was brilliant with tears, still I said to my heart, "It is beautiful." It was like the first pure blossom, which some cherished plant had shot forth, whose cup is filled with a dew-drop, and whose head reclines upon its parent stem.

8. I again saw this child when the lamp of reason first dawned in its mind. Its soul was gentle and peaceful; its eye sparkled with joy, as it looked round on this good and pleasant world. It ran swiftly in the ways of knowledge; it bowed its ear to instruction; it stood like a lamb before its teachers. It was not proud, or envious, or stubborn; and it had never heard of the vices and vanities of the world. And when I looked upon it, I remembered that our Savior had said, " Except ye become as little children, ye cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven.”

1

9. But the scene was changed, and I saw a man whom the world called honorable, and many waited for his smile. They pointed out the fields that were his, and talked of the silver and gold that he had gathered; they admired the stateliness of his domes, and extolled the honor of his family. And his heart answered secretly, "By my wisdom have I gotten all this;" so he returned no thanks to God, neither did he fear or serve him.

10. And as I passed along, I heard the complaints of the laborers who had reaped down his fields, and the cries of the poor, whose covering he had taken away; but the sound of feasting and revelry was in his apartments, and the unfed beggar came tottering from his door. But he considered not that the cries of the oppressed were continually entering into the ears of the Most High. And when I knew that this

man was once the teachable child that I had loved, the beautiful infant that I had gazed upon with delight, I said in my

bitterness, "I have seen an end of all perfection;" and I laid my mouth in the dust.

QUESTIONS.-1. What changes pass upon the proudest forms-and the most undaunted intellects-from the lapse of time? 2. What takes the place of childhood and manhood? 3. What becomes of vanity, as time flies past? 4. What becomes of the docility and loveliness of childhood?

ERRORS.-bud-dy for bod-y; dorn-ted and don-ted for daunt-ed, (pronounced dant-ed.)

SPELL AND DEFINE.-1. perplexed, intricacy; 2. fearlessly, understanding, apprehension; 3. vacantly, intellect, treacherous; 5. joyfully, returned; 6. continued; 8. envious, stubborn; 9. honorable, extolled; 10. complaints, apartments, tottering, perfection.

RULE.-When any thing very solemn or devotional is to be read, there should be a full, solemn tone of voice; the piece should be read slowly, and long pauses should be made at the commas.

A Rest for the Weary.-MONTGOMERY.

1.

There is a calm for those who weep,
A rest for weary pilgrims found,

They softly lie, and sweetly sleep,
Low in the ground.

2. The storm that wrecks the wint❜ry sky
No more disturbs their deep repose,
Than summer evening's latest sigh
That shuts the rose.

3. I long to lay this painful head
And aching heart beneath the soil,
To slumber in that dreamless bed
From all my toil.

4. For misery stole me at my birth
And cast me helpless on the wild:
I perish; O my mother earth,
Take home thy child.

5. On thy dear lap these limbs reclined,
Shall gently moulder into thee;

Nor leave one wretched trace behind,
Resembling me.

6. Hark! a strange sound affrights mine ear;
My pulse, my brain runs wild, I rave;
Ah! who art thou whose voice I hear?
I am the Grave!

7. The Grave, that never spake before,
Hath found at length a tongue to chide :
Oh listen! I will speak no more:
Be silent, Pride.

8. Art thou a wretch, of hope forlorn,
The victim of consuming care?
Is thy distracted conscience torn
By fell despair?

9. Do foul misdeeds of former times
Wring with remorse thy guilty breast?
And ghosts of unforgiven crimes
Murder thy rest?

10. Lash'd by the furies of the mind,
From wrath and vengeance would'st thou flee
Ah! think not, hope not, fool, to find
A friend in me.

11. By all the terrors of the tomb,
Beyond the power of tongue to tell,
By the dread secrets of my womb,
By death and hell,

12. I charge thee live! repent and pray;
In dust thine infamy deplore;
There yet is mercy; go thy way
And sin no more.

13. Whate'er thy lot, whoe'er thou be, Confess thy folly, kiss the rod,

14.

And in thy chastening sorrows see
The hand of God.

A bruised reed he will not break;
Afflictions all his children feel,

He wounds them for his mercy's sake,
He wounds to heal!

15. Humbled beneath his mighty hand,
Prostrate his Providence adore:

Tis done! arise! He bids thee stand,
To fall no more.

16. Now traveler in the vale of tears!
To realms of everlasting light

Through time's dark wilderness of years,
Pursue thy flight.

17. There is a calm for those that weep,
A rest for weary pilgrims found:

And while the mouldering ashes sleep
Low in the ground;

18. The soul, of origin divine,

God's glorious image, freed from clay,
In heaven's eternal sphere shall shine
A star of day!

19. The sun is but a spark of fire,
A transient meteor in the sky,
The soul, immortal as its sire,
Shall never die.

QUESTIONS.-1. Who is represented as speaking in verse eighth, and onward? 2. What is a "figure of speech ?" 3. What is that figure of speech called, which represents the grave, or any inanimate object, as speaking? 4. With what sentiments should thoughts of death inspire us? 5 Why is death ever desirable? 6. To what will it introduce us? 7. Is it wise to make no preparation for death? 8. Should not our eternal welfare be our chief concern in the world?

ERRORS.-Sof-ly for soft-ly; shets for shuts; heth for hath; lis-sen for lis-ten; keer for care; chas-ning for chaste-ning; hum-bled for 'um-bled; pur-shue for pur-sue; pur-ish for per-ish; im-midge for im-age.

SPELL AND DEFINE.-1. pilgrims; 3. dreamless; 5. reclined, moulder, resembling; 6. affrights; 7. chide; 8. forlorn, victim, consuming, conscience; 9. remorse; 10. vengeance; 11. terrors; 12. infamy, deplore; 13. chastening; 14. afflictions; 15. prostrate, adore; 16. realms, everlasting, wilderness, pursue; 17. mouldering; 18. origin, eternal, sphere; 19. transient, meteor.

RULE.-Let every pupil notice, as each one reads, where a comma is not marked by a proper pause.

Character of Mr. Brougham.-ANONYMOUS.

1. Brougham, is a thunderbolt. He may come in the dark, he may come at random, his path may be in the viewless and graspless air; but still give him something solid, let him come in contact with the earth, and, be it beautiful or barren, it feels the power of his terrible visitation.

2. You see not, or rather you heed not, the agent which works: but, just as when the arch-giant of physical destroyers rends his way, you see the kingdoms of nature yielding at his approach, and the mightiest of their productions brushed aside as though they were dust, or torn as though they were gossamer.

3. While he raises his voice in the house while he

builds firmly and broadly the bases of his propositions, and snatches from every science a beam to enlarge and strength en his work and while he indignantly beats down and tramples upon all that has been reared by his antagonist, you feel as if the wind of annihilation were in his hand, and the power of destruction in his possession.

4. There cannot be a greater treat than to hear Brougham upon one of those questions which give scope for the mighty swell of his mind, and which permit him to launch the bolts of that tremendous sarcasm, for which he has not now, and perhaps never had, an equal in the house. When his display is a reply, you see his long and lathy figure drawn aside from others, and coiled up within itself like a snake, and his eyes glancing from under the slouched hat, as fiery and as fatal as those of the basilisk; you mark the twin sisters of irony and contempt, playing about the tense and compressed line of his mouth.

5. Up rises the orator, slowly and clumsily. His body, swung into an attitude which is none of the most graceful. His long and sallow visage seems lengthened and deepened in its hue. His eyes, his nose, and mouth seem huddled together, as, if while he presses every illustration into his speech, he were at the same time condensing all his senses into one.

6. There is a lowering sublimity in his brows, which one seldom sees equaled: and the obliquity of the light shows the organization of the upper and lateral parts of his forehead, proud and palpable as the hills of his native north. His left hand is extended with the palm, prepared as an anvil, upon which he is ever and anon to hammer, with the forefinger of his right, as the preparation to that full swing which is to give life to every muscle, and motion to every limb.

7. He speaks! In the most powerful and sustained, and at the same time, the most close, clear and logical manner, does he demolish the castle, which his opponent had built for himself. You hear the sounds, you see the flash, you look for the castle, and it is not. Stone after stone, turret after turret, battlement after battlement, and wing after wing, are melted away, and nothing left, save the sure foundation, upon which the orator himself may build.

8. There are no political bowels in him. He gives no quarter, and no sooner has he razed the fort, than he turns to torture the garrison. It is now that his mock solemnity is something more terrible then the satire of Canning, the glow of Burdett, or the glory of Mackintosh.