at other times he never omitted; but during this uneasy night, he thought of means to accomplish his purpose. The next morning he fetched an old-clothes man, and sold everything except the dress he had on, and a single shirt for change, which he put in his pocket. The sum, which he got, from the greedy Israelite, for all he had, was not much, and yet honesty, a virtue which he possessed in the highest degree, demanded of him to pay his few small debts. After he had performed this duty, in the most conscientious manner, he counted up his remaining property, and was pleased on finding himself the possessor of five dollars, because he hoped with this sum, and with strict frugality, to travel to Rome and back again. He now, therefore, began his journey in the highest spirits, and wandered over fertile Germany with heartfelt joy, at the beauties of nature in his beloved country. How did Italy's mild and balsam'ic airs refresh him! how did he indulge all his senses, in the contemplation of the delightful scenes, that crowded on him from every side! and how did his heart thrill with bliss, when he beheld the towers of Rome shining in the misty distance! Long did he stand gazing and enraptured, and a tear of joy stood in his eyes; he walked on, lost in thought, and towards evening he reached a hill at the foot of which the Queen of Cities, illumined with gold and purple, by the blush of the evening sky, lay in the most glorious splendor. He seated himself upon the summit of the hill, and turned his eyes constantly, with the most heartfelt longing, towards the object of his secret wishes. After his soul had satiated itself with this delightful picture, he at length thought of examining his stock of money, that he might see how much he could spare, in Rome, in examining its captivating wonders, without depriving himself of the necessary means for his journey back. When he had counted it, he found that he had spent just the half of it, namely, two dollars and a half. Of course he had been fre quently obliged, in the pursuit of his journey, to beg a night's lodging and dinner from the clergymen on the road, to be able to reach so far, upon so trifling a sum, but never did he receive money or ask alms. If, then, he would return to his native country without begging, he must not see Rome, and he had, in fact, the heroic self-denial to form this resolution on the spot. He, therefore, remained for that night on this hill, saw the moon and stars rise over the much-beloved Rome; he listened with silent delight to the chime of the churchbells, in the stillness of the evening, and when the morning sun, rising in the east, tinged the domes and towers of the city with red, he "cast one longing, lingering look behind," and began in silent musing his journey home. Whatever instances of heroic self-denial history may record, it can produce no greater than that which this obscure individual exercised in the simplicity of his heart. He returned home with his longing gratified, and employed his last penny in paying the boatman who ferried him over to his native island. He renounced the study of divinity, which he hated, and entered into the service of a peasant, with whom he continued for a whole year, at the end of which he employed his wages which he had saved, on a journey to the East, whither, impelled by the love of traveling, he set out upon a pilgrimage. LESSON XCIII. Pairing Time anticipated. - CowPER. I SHALL not ask Jean Jaques Rousseau* *It was one of the whimsical speculations of this philosopher, that all fables, which ascribe reason and speech to animals, should be withheld from children, as being only vehicles of deception. But what child was ever deceived by them, or can be, against the evidence of his own senses ? "T is clear that they were always able To hold discourse, at least in fable; And even the child who knows no better, Than to interpret by the letter, The story of a cock and bull, Must have a most uncommon skull. It chanced, then, on a winter's day, In many an orchard, copse, and grove, And, with much twitter, and much chatter, At length a bulfinch who could boast "My friends! be cautious how ye treat The subject upon which we meet; I fear we shall have winter yet." A finch, whose tongue knew no control, With golden wings and satin põll, A last year's bird, who ne'er had tried What marriage means, thus pert replied. "Methinks the gentleman," quoth she, "Opposite in the apple-tree, By his good will would keep us single Till death exterminate us all. I marry, without more ado : My dear Dick Redcap, what say you?" Dick heard, and tweedling, ogling, bridling, Of an immediate conjugation. All paired, and each pair built a nest. But, though the birds were thus in haste, The wind,— of late breathed gently forth - Soon, every father bird and mother Grew quarrelsome, and pecked each other, Parted without the least regret, Except that they had ever met, Than to neglect a good adviser. MORAL. Misses the tale that I relate This lesson seems to carry- LESSON XCIV Death of Carthon. Ossian's Address to the Sun. · OSSIAN. THE battle ceased along the field, for the bard had sung the song of peace. The chiefs gathered round the falling Carthon, and heard his words, with sighs. Silent they leaned on their spears, while Balclutha's hero spoke. His hair sighed in the wind, and his words were feeble. "King of Morven," Carthon said, "I fall in the midst of my course. A foreign tomb receives, in youth, the last of Reuthamir's race. Darkness dwells in Balclutha; and the shadows of grief in Crathmo. But raise my remembrance on the banks of Lora, where my fathers dwelt. Perhaps the husband of Moina will mourn over his fallen Carthon." Hig words reached the heart of Clessàmmor: he fell, in silence, on his son. The host stood darkened around: no voice is on the plains of Lora. Night came, and the moon, from the east, looked on the mournful field, but still they stood, like a silent grove that lifts its head on Gormal, when the loud winds are laid, and dark autumn is on the plain. Three days they mourned over Carthon: on the fourth, his father died. In the narrow plain of the rock they lie; and a dim ghost defends their tomb. There lovely Moina is often seen when the sunbeam darts on the rock, and all around is dark. There she is seen, Malvina, but not like the daughters of the hill. Her robes are from the stranger's land; and she is still alone. Fingâl was sad for Carthon; he desired his bards to mark the day, when shadowy autumn returned. And often did they mark the day, and sing the hero's praise. "Who comes so dark from ocean's roar, like autumn's shadowy cloud? Death is trembling in his hand! his eyes are flames of fire! Who roars along dark Lora's heath? Who but Carthon king of swords? The people fall! see! how he strides, like the sullen ghost of Morven! But there he lies, a goodly oak |