And shine where bark hath never been-
O, lonely Stars of Night!

5. Much have ye seen of human tears,
Of human hope and love:

And fearful deeds of darkness, too,
Ye witnesses above!

Say, will that blackening record live
Forever in your sight,

Watching for judgment on the earth,-
O, sleepless Stars of Night?

6. How glorious was your song that rose
With the fresh morning's dawn!

And still, amid our summer sky,
Its echo lingers on;

Though ye have shone on many a giare,
Since Eden's early blight;

Ye tell of hope and glory still-
O, deathless Stars of Night!

EXERCISE CXXXV.

A MOTHER'S LOVE.

EMILY TAYLOR

1. Hast thou sounded the depths of yonder séa,
And counted the sands that under it bé?
Hast thou measured the hight of heaven above?
Then mayst thou measure a mother's love.

2. Hast thou talked with the blessed, of leading on
To the throne of God some wandering són?
Hast thou witnessed the angels' bright employ?
Then mayst thou speak of a mother's joy.

3. Evening and morn, hast thou watched the bee
Go forth on her errands of índustry?

The bee, for herself, hath gathered and toiled,
But the mother's cares are all for her child.

4. Hast thou gone with the traveler, Thought, afar,
From pole to póle, and from star to stár?
Thou hast,—but on ocean, earth, or sea,
The heart of a mother has gone with thee.

5. There is not a grand, inspiring thought,
There is not a truth by wisdom taught,
There is not a feeling, pure and high,
That may not be read in a mother's eye.

6. And, ever since earth began, that look
Has been to the wise an open book,

To win them back from the love they prize,
To the holier love that edifies.

7. There are teachings on earth, and sky, and air, The heavens the glory of God declare,

But more loud than the voice beneath, above,

He is heard to speak through a mother's love.

QUESTIONS.-1. Are the questions in the above piece direct or indirect? 2. What pause after the word hast, fourth stanza, third line?

EXERCISE CXXXVI.

INFANCY AND MATURE AGE.-AN APOLOGUE.

[Men are but children or a larger growth.]

1. 'Twas eight o'clock, and near the fire
My ruddy little boy was seated,

And with the titles of a sire

My ears expected to be greeted,-

CRABBE

But vain the thought!-by sleep oppressed,
No father there the child descried!
His head reclined upon his breast,

Or nodding rolled from side to side.

2. "Let this young rogue be sent to bed ;"-
More I had not time to say,

When the poor urchin raised his head
To beg that he might longer stay.
Refused; toward rest his steps he bent
With tearful eye and aching heart;
But claimed his playthings ere he went,
And took up stairs his horse and cart.

3. For new delay, though oft denied,

He pleaded;-wildly craved the boon ;—
Though past his usual hour, he cried
At being sent away so soon.
If stern to him, his grief I shared ;
(Unmoved, who hears his offspring weep?)
Of soothing him I half despaired,

When all his cares were lost in sleep!

4. "Alas! poor infant!" I exclaimed, "Thy father blushes now to scan, In all which he so lately blamed, The follies and the fears of man.

The vain regret, the anguish brief,

Which thou hast known, sent up to beɑ, Portrays of man the idle grief,

When doomed to slumber with the dead."

5. And more I thought;—when up the stairs With "longing, ling'ring looks" he crept, To mark of man the childish cares,

His playthings carefully he kept.

Thus mortals on life's later stage,
When nature claims their forfeit breath,
Still grasp at wealth, in pain and age,
And cling to golden toys in death.

6. 'Tis morn! and see my smiling boy
Awakes to hail returning light;
To fearless laughter! boundless joy!
Forgot the tears of yesternight!
Thus shall not man forget his woe?
Survive of age and death the gloom?
Smile at the cares he knew below?
And, renovated, burst the tomb?

70, my Creator! when thy will

Shall stretch this frame on earth's cold bed,
Let that blest hope sustain me still,

Till thought, sense, mem'ry,-all are fled.
And, grateful for what thou may'st give,
No tear shall dim my fading eye,
That 't was thy pleasure I should live—
That 't is thy mandate bids me die.

EXERCISE CXXXVII.

SOCIAL ENJOYMENT,-WHERE FOUND.

N. Y. MIRROR.

1. "How have you enjoyed yourself this evening ?" Mr. Westbury inquired, as soon as the carriage-door was closed, and the coachman had mounted his box.

2. "Quite as well as I do all scenes of similar character," Julia answered.

3. "Do you not then relish society?"

4. "Not very well, in such large masses," said Julia. "To my apprehension, very large parties counteract the purposes, for which social feelings were implanted within us."

5. Then you disapprove, as well as disrelish them?" said Mr. Westbury.

"So

6. "I fear they are not quite innocent," said Julia. far as my observation has extended, they have little tendency to increase benevolence, or any of the finer feelings of the heart. I have often feared, that vanity and thirst for admiration were the causes that draw together one half of the crowd, and a vulgar love of luxuries the other."

7. "Those causes surely do not influence all those who attend large assemblies," said Mr. Westbury. "Such persons as Mr. and Mrs. Eveleth, for instance, are entirely above them."

8. "Undoubtedly," said Julia. general as any other."

"Still I believe the rule as

9. "Does not the elegant and instructive conversation of such a man as Mr. Eveleth, reconcile you to the crowd ?" Mr. Westbury inquired.

10. "Certainly not," said Julia. "How much more highly such conversation would be enjoyed,-how much greater benefit derived from it, in a small circle. Artificial delicacy and refinement,―artificial feeling,-artificial good-nature,—artificial friendship, are the usual elements that make up large com panies. Had Mr. and Mrs. Eveleth spent this evening with us in our quiet parlor, how much greater would have been the enjoyment! how much more profitably the time might have been occupied !"

11. "It might," said Mr. Westbury. "Mr. Eveleth has great colloquial powers. His conversation is at once brilliant and instructive. I know no gentleman who equals him in this particular."

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12. "I can not say quite as much as that," said Julia, though he certainly converses uncommonly well."

13. "Who can you name that is his equal?" asked Mr. Westbury.

14. Julia hesitated a little, and blushed a great deal, though her blushes were unseen, as she said: