to do with him on the Sabbath; for on that day Master Edward seemed to exert himself particularly to be entertaining. “Edward, Edward, must not play on Sunday," his father would say, and then Edward would shake his curls over his eyes, and walk out of the room as grave as a catechism; but the next moment you might see pussy scampering in all dismay through the "best room," with Edward at her heels, to the manifest discomposure of Aunt Betsy, and all others in authority.

15. At last my uncle came to the conclusion, that "it wasn't in natur to teach him any better," and that “he would no more keep Sunday than the brook down the lot." My poor uncle! he did not know what was the matter with his heart, but certain it was, that he lost all faculty of scolding, when little Edward was in the case; though he would stand rubbing his spectacles a quarter of an hour longer than common, when Aunt Betsy was detailing his witticisms and clever doings. But, in process of time, our hero compassed his third year, and arrived at the dignity of going to school.

16. He went illustriously through the Spelling-book, and then attacked the Catechism; went from "Man's Chief End" to "the Commandments" in a fortnight, and at last came home inordinately merry, to tell his father he had got to "Amen."

17. After this he made a regular business of saying over the whole every Sunday evening, standing with his hands folded in front, and his checked apron smoothed down, occasionally giving a glance over his shoulder, to see whether pussy was attending. Being of a very benevolent turn of mind, he made several very commendable efforts to teach Bose the Catechism, in which he succeeded as well as could be expected. In short, without further detail, Master Edward bade fair to be a literary wonder.

18. But, alas, for poor little Edward! his merry dance was soon over. A day came when he sickened. Aunt Betsy tried her whole herbarium, but in vain; he grew rapidly

worse and worse. His father sickened in heart, but said notning; he only staid by his tedside day and night, trying all means to save him, with affecting pertinacity.

19. "Can't you think of any thing more, doctor?" said he to the physician, when every thing had been tried in vain. "Nothing," answered the physician. A slight convulsion passed over my uncle's face. "Then the Lord's will be done!" said he,

20. Just at that moment a ray of the setting sun pierced the checked curtains, and gleamed like an angel's smile across the face of the little sufferer. He awoke from disturbed sleep. "Oh dear! oh, I am so sick!" he gasped feebly. His father raised him in his arms; he breathed easier, and looked up with a grateful smile.

21. Just then his old playmate, the cat, crossed the floor. "There goes pussy," said he; "oh dear, I shall never play with pussy any more." At that moment a deadly change passed over his face; he looked up to his father with an imploring expression, and put out his hands. There was one moment of agony, and then the sweet features all settled with a smile of peace, and "mortality was swallowed up of life.”

22. My uncle laid him down, and looked one moment at his beautiful face; it was too much for his principles, too much for his pride, and "he lifted up his voice and wept."

23. The next morning was the Sabbath—the funeral day, and it rose 66 Iwith breath all incense and with cheek all bloom." Uncle Abel was as calm and collected as ever, but in his face there was a sorrow-stricken expression that could not be mistaken.

24. I remember him at family prayers bending over the great Bible, and beginning the psalm, "Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations." Apparently, he was touched by the melancholy splendor of the poetry; for, after reading a few verses, he stopped. There was a dead silence, interrupted only by the ticking of the clock. He cleared his voice repeatedly, and tried to go on, but in vain. He closed

the book, and knelt to prayer. The energy of sorrow broke through his usual formal reverence, and his language flowed forth with a deep and sorrowful pathos, which I have never forgotten. The God so much reverenced, so much feared, seemed to draw near to him as a friend and comforter, to be his refuge and strength, "a very present help in time of trouble."

25. My uncle arose, and I saw him walk toward the room of the departed one. I followed, and stood with him over the dead. He uncovered the face. It was set with the seal of death; but, oh! how surpassingly lovely was the impression! The brilliancy of life was gone, but the face was touched with the mysterious triumphant brightness which seems like the dawning of heaven.

26. My uncle looked long and steadily. He felt the beauty of what he gazed on; his heart was softened, but he had no words for his feelings. He left the room unconsciously, and stood in the front door.

27. The bells were ringing for church, the morning was bright, the birds were singing merrily, and the little pet squirrel of little Edward was frolicking about the door. My uncle watched him as he ran, first up one tree and then another, and then over the fence, whisking his brush and chattering just as if nothing was the matter. With a deep sigh, Uncle Abel broke forth-"How happy that cretur is! Well, the Lord's will be done."

28. That day, the dust was committed to dust, amid the lamentations of all who had known little Edward. Year have passed since then, and my uncle has long been gath ered to his fathers, but his just and upright spirit has entered the liberty of the sons of God.

29. Yes, the good man may have opinions which the philosophical scorn, weaknesses at which the thoughtless smile, but death shall change him into all that is enlightened, wise, and refined. "He shall shine as the brightness of the firinament, and as the stars for ever and ever."

EXERCISE XXIX.

1. PLA'-TO, a most illustrious philosopher of ancient Greece, was born about the year B. C. 429, and died B. C. 347.

2. TUL-LY, that is, Marcus Tullius Cicero, the chief of Roman orators. He was born at Arpinum, a small town south-east of Rome, B. C. 106, and died, through the instigation of Mark Antony, by the hand of a man whom he had once, it is said, successfully defended in a trial for some serious offense.

3. ROCHE-FOU-CAULT, a celebrated wit and nobleman of the reign of Louis XIV., was born in the year 1613. He died in 1680. He is chiefly famous for his work entitled "Reflections and Maxims."

DIGNITY OF HUMAN NATURE.

ADDISON.

1. I must confess, there is nothing that more pleases me, in all that I read in books, or see among mankind, than such passages as represent human nature in its proper dignity. As man is a creature made up of different extremes, he has something in him very great and very mean. A skillful artist may draw an excellent picture of him in either of these views.

2. The finest authors of antiquity have taken him on the more advantageous side. They cultivate the natural grandeur of the soul, raise in her a generous ambition, feed her with hopes of immortality and perfection, and do all they can to widen the partition between the virtuous and the vicious, by making the difference betwixt them as great as between gods and brutes. In short, it is impossible to read a page in Plato,' Tully,' and a thousand other ancient moralists, without being a greater and a better man for it.

3. On the contrary, I could never read any of our modish French authors, or those of our own country, who are the imitators and admirers of that trifling nation, without being for some time out of humor with myself, and at every thing about me. Their business is to depreciate human nature, and consider it under its worst appearances. They give mean

interpretations and base motives to the worthiest actions; they resolve virtue and vice into constitution. In short, they endeavor to make no distinction between man and man, or between the species of men and that of brutes. As an instance of this kind of authors, among many others, let any one examine the celebrated Rochefoucault, who is the great philosopher for administering of consolation to the idle, the envious, and worthless part of mankind.

4. I remember a young gentleman of moderate under standing, but great vivacity, who, by dipping into many authors of this nature, had got a little smattering of knowledge, just enough to make an atheist or free-thinker, but not a philosopher or a man of sense. With these accomplishments, he went to visit his father in the country, who was a plain, rough, honest man, and wise, though not learned. The son, who took all opportunities to show hi learning, began to establish a new religion in the family, and to enlarge the nar rowness of their country notions, in which he succeeded so well, that he had seduced the butler by his table talk, staggered his eldest sister.

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5. The old gentleman began to be alarmed at the schisms that arose among his children, but did not yet believe his son's doctrine to be so pernicious as it really was, until one day, talking of his setter-dog, the son said, "he did not question but Tray was as immortal as any one of the family;" and in the heat of the argument told his father, that, for his own part, he expected to die like a dog." Upon which, the old man, starting up in a very great passion, cried out; "Then, sir, you shall live like one;" and, taking his cane in his hand, cudgeled him out of his system. This had so good an effect upon him, that he took up from that day, fell to reading good books, and is now a bencher of the Middle Temple.