"I have the greatest opinion of what you say, Madam'," said Clarà," but, I own, I do not think that you will ever convince me that it is possible to overcome a dislike where it is so strong as mine is to spiders."

"But, if you should be convinced, will you promise to use your endeavors'?"

"If you desire it', Madam'."

"Well then," said Mrs. Mills', "I may claim your promise." "Yes," said Clarà, " but I have such a dislike to spiders"! I have always avoided them', and Jane, my mamma's maid, knowing how terrified I was, was always upon the watch that I might not be alarmed."

"These very precautions, my dear'," said Mrs. Mills', "have increased your dislike; by constantly avoiding the sight of the object which disgusts you, your imagination has painted its deformity greater than the reality."

"But the spider', aunt'," said Clara alarmed`,—“ we must pass so close-indeed', I cannot venture."

Nay, now, my dear'," said Mrs. Mills', " do not yield to an idle conceit, which your better judgment must condemn`; recollect that you are not going to encounter an Hyená, or a Rhinoceros', but to look upon an inoffensive insect', to whose existence it is in your power, in an instant, to put an end', and whose ingenuity is deserving your highest admiration." "But may I be sure, madam', that you will not suffer it to crawl upon mé," said Clarà, " and that you, William', will not play me any trick'?"

"I will engage for William'," replied Mrs. Mills', “and surely you may rely upon me, after what I have said."

"Well then," said Clarà, "but let me go on this sidenow be sure, William', you do not play me any trick.”

"Not I," said William', "but you must not be angry, if I cannot help laughing to see you so foolish." They now came in sight of the bush', where the poor spider', little conscious of the terror which it inspired', had half formed its curious web. When Clara beheld it run with such agility from side to side of the branch on which it was weaving its subtil snare', she started back', and it was some time before she could be prevailed on to advancè; however, encouraged by Mrs. Mills, and a little ashamed by the raillery of her brother', she approached so near as to see distinctly the whole progress of its ingenious labors. At first', her heart beat-she declared it made her shudder',-she had never',

in her life', looked so long on a spider. By degrees she became more calm', and, at length protested, it was not so ugly as she imagined—really', the body was very handsome. ly speckled', and as for the web', it was astonishing from what the thread, with which it was woven, could come. "The spider," said Mrs. Mills'," has, at the extremity of her body, five openings', through which she distils, at pleasure, a clammy glue': this forms the thread', which lengthens in proportion to her distance from the place where she first fastens it. When she closes these openings, the thread no longer extends', and she remains suspended in the air. Observe`, Clará, she makes use of the thread for her ascent', grasping it in her claws', as we should a rope with our hands and feet."

"Really," said Clara', "it is very curious'; I should like to see in what manner the web is first begun'; this is half finished."

"It will be well worth your attention at another opportunity," said Mrs. Mills.

"Is the web begun in the middle'?" asked Clara.

"That cannot be practicable," said Mrs. Mills'; you see it is suspended between two branches'; the spider, therefore, would have no resting place."

66

Very true, aunt'," said William'; "I never thought about it before', but really I cannot conceive in what part of the web the spider can possibly begin."

"It is a question," replied Mrs. Mills', "that might have puzzled wiser heads than your's', William', had not experience and observation fully discovered it. When the garden spider', (for there are many kinds of spiders',) begins its web', it places itself on the end of a branch', and there fastens several threads', which it lengthens to two or more ells', leaving them to float in the air'; these threads are wafted by the wind, from one side to another', and lodged either on a house', pole', or the opposite branch', where they are fastened by their natural glue. The spider then draws them to her', to try if they are well fixed', and they become a bridge for her to pass and repass at pleasure'; she then crawls to the middle of this thread', and adds to it another`, by the help of which she descends', until she meets with a solid body to rest upon, or leaves it, as the first', floating in the air', to the direction of chance'; in the same manner other threads are drawn from the centre', and there again, as you

see', crossed. But I will leave the rest to your own observation, which will inform you more agreeably."

"Well," said William', "it must be owned that the spider is a very ingenious creature'; I might have puzzled my head for a month, and not have guessed how she began the web."

"So might I," said Clara', "but pray, Madam', what is the use of the web, when it is madé ?"

66

Why," said William, bursting into a fit of laughter', "do you not know that spiders spread their webs to catch flies'?"

"If I had known," replied Clara somewhat piqued', "J should not have asked the question."

"There is no disgracé," said Mrs. Mills', "in not knowing any thing'; the disgrace is in not wishing to be informed'."

"I did not mean to offend my sister," said William'; "only it was sō drōll to hear her ask what spiders spread their webs for."

"You know, William'," said Clara', "that, my mamma always ordered the servants to take particular care that I should not be alarmed with the sight of a spider'; so you need not be so very sharp upon me."

"Well," said William', "I beg your pardon, sister'; I will be more careful in future."

"And do spiders really feed on flies', Madam'?"

Undoubtedly'," said Mrs. Mills.

"Well then'," said Clarà, "if the spider is an ingénious creaturé, you must allow that she is very cruel."

Pray, my dear', what do you understand by the word cruelty'?"

"I think," said Clarà, "it is cruel to put an innocent thing to death."

"By cruelty'," said Mrs. Mills', "I understand that depraved inclination which causes us to inflict a pang wantonly'; or unnecessarily to deprive any creature of lifè: now the spider seizes the prey which nature has made necessary to her existencè; she cannot, then, be any more chargeable with cruelty, than other animals, man himself not excepted', for whose use innumerable creatures are daily doomed to suffer. We may grieve for the suffering of the poor fly within the grasp of its enemy'; but it is unjust for our resentment to rise against the spider, that acts only in conformity to the stated laws which Providence has implanted in its nature."

"However, if you accuse the spider of cruelty, she has one' quality which cannot fail of meeting your approbation; I mean her attention to her young', which is so great', that she will incur every danger sooner than forsake them. She carefully wraps her eggs in a web of astonishing strength', which she fastens to a wall, or a leaf', and watches with unremitted solicitudè: if danger is at hand', her first care is to pull down the sacred deposit and escape with it. There is one kind of spider, which has recourse to a very ingenious expedient for the preservation of her eggs'; she suspends her bag of eggs in some little aperture, perhaps of a wall', by a thread', and before them, in the same manner', a little packet of dried leaves', which, by constantly swinging about at the entrancé, prevents the birds and wasps, which are on the watch for the eggs, from discovering them.” "That is indeed an ingenious contrivance!"

"When the little spiders are hatched, the mother carries them on her back', and discovers her tenderness by a thousand solicitudes'. But come, my dear', let us walk on', our spider has completed her web', and I think you are convinced that it is possible to look on one without fainting or falling into fits."

"Indeed, Madam'," said Clara', "I am', and feel so far reconciled to the sight of what I once so much dreaded', that I think, in time, it might be possible for me to see a spider crawling on my hand', with as little concern as I have felt in hearing it named."

"You see, my dear'," said Mrs. Mills', "what a little resolution and proper reflection will accomplish'; but to this habit, which, in these cases, is often more powerful than reason itself, must be joined that of frequently accustoming yourself to look at, and examine a spider; thus its deformities will grow familiar, and your disgust wear away."

"Well, aunt'," said Clarà, "I am resolved, since you think só, to pay my respects every day, while I am here', to the spiders that inhabit your garden."

9

LESSON XXXVI.

BRUCE'S ADVICE TO A BOY.

I WILL tell you what I would do if I were a boy. I would sit down and reflect what would be the most valuable attain

ments in the world. After finding out what they were, I would ask myself which will be the best method to attain them'? and after I had answered this question, I would lose no time in pursuing them.

I give you in this chapter some maxims', which, I hope, you will read again and again', until they are so fixed in your memories', that they will influence you every day, and every hour. If you are governed by them, you may become a great man'; you certainly will become a good one. much more important to be good than to be great.

It is

Rise early', and watch the rising sun as he flies abroad with wings of colored light to proclaim the glory of his Almighty Maker', and offer up your praise and prayer to the Giver of all good. Enter steadily and fearlessly on the duties of the day. Be determined that no trial shall overcome your patience, and no impediment conquer your perseverance. If your object be a good oné, say, "I will try to attain it."

Never be found without an object. Ask yourself how you can do the most good'; and when you have decided', throw your soul into your purpose. Never do good to obtain praise. Take a red-hot iron in your hand' rather than a dishonest penny. Do no bad action to serve a good friend. Be indulgent to others' faults', but implacable to your own. Wage war with evil, and give no quarter. Die for the truth', rather than live to uphold a lie. Never court needless danger, nor fly from a peril which duty imposes. Read good books`, seek out good companions', attend to good counsels', and imitate good examples. Never give way to despondency. Does the sun shiné? rejoicè. Is it covered with a cloud'? wait till the cloud has passed away.

Take good care of your education'; see that your principles and your practice are equal to your attainments. The head of Melville was highly educated', but his heart' was sadly neglected': he was too learned' to honor his unletter