The aim of each was now to throw,
His rival on the rocks below.

6. To compromise they bade adieu,
And nothing short of death would do.
They spoke no word of rage or hate,
But, in each fearful pause of fate,

Panting for breath, pale, parch'd, and spent,
Their looks still gave defiance vent.
(p.) No sound was heard, no hand was nigh,
To hold an olive-branch; the sky,
As if it smiled upon the fight,

Was still, blue, beautiful, and bright.

7. Again the frightful steep they eye'd,
And, struggling hard, again they tried
To fling each other down. At length,
William's activity and strength,
Had work'd his now exhausted foe,
Just to the grave that yawned below;
One effort more, and he was free,-
But, in this dire extremity,

His rival drew a deadly blade,
One sure and fatal plunge he made,
The weapon pierc'd young William's breast,
A groan and struggle marked the rest.

8. The victor's eye no longer flash'd,

The cold drops from his brow he dash'd, (.) And slowly rose; his haggard look

Betray'd his soul. He shudder'd, shook,
And glanc'd around, with timid eye,
To see no evidence was nigh;
Then dragged the body to the edge,
And from the steep and dizzy ledge,

He hurl'd it over rocks and all;
'Twas dash'd to pieces from the fall.

9. And then he silently withdrew.
The bloody story no man knew:
The mangled limbs were found, and all
Lamented William's luckless fall.
'Twas thought, in clambering the hight
And turning, that his brain grew light:
Or that some faithless crag gave way,
And hurl'd him from the sight of day,
To instant death. Maria's grief
Was silent, but beyond relief.

10. Deep in a gloomy solitude,

She kept her maiden widowhood,

For three sad years; and, when, at last,
Her lonely boundary she passed,
To mingle in the world again,
All friendly efforts were in vain
Her pensive moments to beguile,
Or raise one melancholy smile.

11. At last she died, and time roll'd on,
Till years were counted twenty-one
Since that sad bridal-day-the steep
Had long been named-"the Lover's Leap."
Although the dismal story then

Was fading from the minds of men,
When, writhing on his bed of death,
The murd❜rer, with his dying breath,
In deepest agony reveal'd

The fearful tale so long conceal'd,

And then he raving-DIED!

QUESTION.-1. What pause is required for a just reading of the last line! See page 43.

EXERCISE XLVIII.

THE WHIRLWIND.

MISS JULIET H. LEWIS

1. The whirlwind "would take a walk one day,"

(And a very fast "walker is he,”)

So bustling about,

He at length set out,

With a step right blithe and free.

2. 'Twas plainly seen, as he rushed along,
He was bent on frolic that day;
('') He whistled with glee,

Or sung merrily,

For his heart was glad and gay.

3. His path lay straight through the dark green wood, away o'er the mountain's broad brow; His track you might trace,

And

In every place;

For he left his mark, I trow.

4. The aspen was first to hear his voice,

And she shook through each branch at the sound,

The timid young tree

Trembled fearfully,

As she sank upon the ground.

5. The hickory heard his sister fall,

And exclaimed, with an ill-natured sneer,

"She's nervous to-day,

And doth fade away;

Such weakness can't flourish here."

6. As onward the whirlwind came, he heard The rude scoffer unfeelingly jest;

So wrenching about

His old trunk, so stout,

The strong one was laid to rest.

7. The pine saw the hickory's shivered trunk, And bowed low as the wind whistled past; But the courtesy

Of the nodding tree

Did save her from the blast.

8. The oak, in defiance, tossed his head; For a veteran right bold was he; But a single stroke

Felled the mighty oak;

Alas! for the proud old tree!

9. On! (<) onward still! and his mighty breath Sings an anthem of glad triumph now,

And he laughs to see

Each old forest tree,

At his coming, meekly bow.

10. The blooming rose heard the whirlwind's voice, And it filled her with weighty alarms;

But he loved the blush

Of the flowering bush,

And bore her off in his arms.

11. On! (<<) onward still! o'er the land he sweeps, With wreck, and ruin, and rush, and roar,

Nor stops to look back

On his dreary track,

But speeds to the spoils before!

QUESTION.—1. How, according to the notation marks, should 9th and 11th stanzas be read?

1. Amongst the petty dishonesties of common life, there are some more hurtful, but, perhaps, none more paltry, than that of pretending to know where one is ignorant. It is a fault into which many not ill-meaning persons are drawn, from a false shame which would probably be checked, if any immediate evil consequences seemed likely to flow from it. They dislike to appear at a loss, or defeated, or under a short-coming about any thing; and thus are tempted either to affect knowledge where they have it not, or in some way to allow it to be supposed, that they are not ignorant. For example; some one adverts to a fact in science with which he is familiar.

2. Perhaps it is brought forward for the instruction or entertainment of the rest,—perhaps to show his own knowledge, perhaps only in the fair course of conversation; no matter how it may be in this respect-the point, at present, in question, is the want of candor in the persons whom he is addressing, in hearing as if they understood that and all the related facts, putting on an intelligent look, assenting to the proposition as if convinced of its soundness, and, perhaps, even hazarding some remarks, that may favor the supposition of their being as well informed on the subject as the first speaker. Or, perhaps, a passage of a classic or foreign author is quoted ― pedantically or otherwise, it matters not; what I have to remark is the unconscientiousness of the rest of the company, or of particular members of it, in letting the thing pass as an intelligible part of the discourse, and appearing to sanction its appositeness, when, in reality, they are either altogether ignorant of the language, in which it is written, or have been unable to follow the sense of the with any degree of clearness.

passage

3. When any rational and well-meaning person feels himn