and that the grave contained his nearest and most valuable friends.

Overwhelmed with anguish, he hastened to the palace of his sovereign, into whose presence his hoary locks and mournful visage soon obtained admission; and, casting himself at the feet of the emperor, "Great prince!" he cried, "send me back to that prison, from which mistaken mercy has delivered me! I have survived my family and friends, and, even in the midst of this populous city, I find myself in a dreary solitude. The cell of my dungeon protected me from the gazers at my wretchedness; and, whilst secluded from society, I was the less sensible of the loss of its enjoyments. I am now tortured with the view of pleasure, in which I cannot participate; and die with thirst, though streams of delight surround me."

LESSON III.

The Advantages of a Taste for Natural History. - WOOD.

WHEN a young person who has enjoyed the benefit of a liberal education, instead of leading a life of indolence, dissipation or vice, employs himself in studying the marks of infinite wisdom and goodness, which are manifested in every part of the visible creation, we know not which we ought most to congratulate, the public or the individual. Self-taught naturalists are often found to make no little progress in knowledge, and to strike out many new lights, by the mere aid of original genius and patient application. But the welleducated youth engages in these pursuits with peculiar advantage. He takes more comprehensive views, is able to consult a greater variety of authors, and, from the early habits of his mind, is more accurate and more methodical in all his investigations.

The world at large, therefore, cannot fail to be benefited by

his labors; and the value of the enjoyments which, at the same time, he secures to himself, is beyond all calculation. No tedious, vacant hour ever makes him wish for he knows not what, complain he knows not why. Never does a restless impatience at having nothing to do, compel him to seek a momentary stimulus to his dormant powers in the tumultuous pleasures of the intoxicating cup, or the agitating suspense of the game of chance. Whether he be at home or abroad, in every different clime, and in every season of the year, universal nature is before him, and invites him to a banquet richly replenished with whatever can invigorate his understanding or gratify his mental taste.

The earth, on which he treads, the air in which he moves, the sea along the margin of which he walks, all teem with objects that keep his attention perpetually awake, excite him to healthful activity, and charm him with an ever-varying succession of the beautiful, the wonderful, the useful, and the new. And if in conformity with the direct tendency of such occupations, he rises from the creature to the Creator, and considers the duties which naturally result from his own situation and rank in this vast system of being, he will derive as much satisfaction from the anticipation of the future, as from the experience of the present, and the recollection of the past.

The mind of the pious naturalist is always cheerful, always animated with the noblest and most benign feelings. Every repeated observation, every unexpected discovery, directs his thoughts to the great Source of all order and all good, and harmonizes all his faculties with the general voice of nature.

Whom nature's works can charm, with God himself
Hold con'verse; grow familiar day by day
With his conceptions; act upon his plan,
And form to his the relish of their souls."

LESSON IV.

SELECT PARAGRAPHS.

Winter.

O WINTER! ruler of the inverted year!
Thy scattered hair with sleet like ashes filled,
Thy breath congealed upon thy lips, thy cheeks
Fringed with a beard made white with other snows
Than those of age, thy forehead wrapt in clouds,
A leafless branch thy sceptre, and thy throne
A sliding car, indebted to no wheels,
But urged by storms along its slippery way!
I love thee, all unlovely as thou seem'st,
And dreaded as thou art!

Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense
Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole
Those balmy spoils. As when, to them who sail
Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past
Mozambic, off at sea, north-east winds blow
Sabeän odors from the spicy shore

Of Araby the blest; with such delay

Well-pleased they slack their course, and, many a league, Cheered with the grateful smell, old Ocean smiles.

The quality of mercy is not strained;

It droppeth as the gentle dew from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:

"Tis mightiest in the mightiest. It becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown;
And earthly power doth then show likest God's,
When mercy seasons justice. We do pray
for mercy,
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy.

The Man of a Cultivated Imagination. — CAMPBELL.

His path shall be where streamy mountains swell

Their shadowy grandeur o'er the narrow dell;
Where mouldering piles and forests intervene,
Mingling with darker tints the living green;
No circling hills his ravished eye to bound,
Heaven, earth and ocean, blazing all around!
The moon is up,-the watch-tower dimly burns,
And down the vale his sober step returns;
But pauses oft, as winding rocks convey
The still, sweet fall of music far away;
And oft he lingers from his home a while,
To watch the dying notes, and start, and smile!

Evening Sounds. - GOLDSMITH.

Sweet was the sound, when oft, at evening's close,
Up yonder hill the village murmur rose.
There, as I passed with careless steps and slow,
The mingling notes came softened from below;
The swain responsive as the milk-maid sung,
The sober herd, that lowed to meet their young,
The noisy geese, that gabbled o'er the pool,
The playful children just let loose from school,
The watch-dog's voice, that bayed the whispering wind,
And the loud laugh, that spoke the vacant mind;
These all, in soft confusion, sought the shade,
And filled each pause the nightingale had made

Moonlight.-POPE.

When the fair moon, refulgent lamp of night,

O'er heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light,
When not a breath disturbs the deep serene,
And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene;
Around her throne the vivid planets roll,
And stars unnumbered gild the glowing pole,
O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed,
And tip with silver every mountain's head;
Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise,
A flood of glory bursts from all the skies;
The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight,
Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light.

Morning Sounds. BEATTIE.

But who the melodies of morn can tell?

The wild brook, babbling down the mountain's side;
The lowing herd; the sheepfold's simple bell;
The pipe of early shepherd, dim descried
In the lone valley; echoing far and wide,
The clamorous horn along the cliffs above;
The hollow murmur of the ocean-tide ;

The hum of bees, the linnet's lay of love,
And the full choir that wakes the universal grove.

The cottage curs at early pilgrim bark; Crowned with her pail, the tripping milkmaid sings; The whistling ploughman stalks afield; and, hark! Down the rough slope the ponderous wagon rings; Through rustling corn the hare astonished springs; SI... the village-clock the drowsy hour; The partridge bursts away on whirring wings; Deep mourns the turtle in sequestered bower, And shrill lark carois clear from her aërial tower.

*Pron. kwire.