sook him when fear came upon him. His child was ravished from his sight. His kinsmen were degraded to their first estate, and he was no longer emperor, nor consul, nor general, nor even a citizen, but an exile and a prisoner, on a lonely island in the midst of the wild Atlantic.

7. Discontent attended him there. The wayward man fretted out a few lonely years of his yet unbroken manhood, looking off, at the earliest dawn and the evening's twilight, toward that distant world that had only just eluded his grasp. His heart corroded. Death came, not unlooked for, though it came, even then, unwelcome. He was stretched on his bed within the fort which constituted his prison. A few fast and faithful friends stood around him, with the guards who rejoiced that the hour of relief, from long and wearisome watching, was at hand.

8. As his strength wasted away, delirium stirred up the brain from its long and inglorious inactivity. The pageant of ambition returned. He was again a lieutenant, and a general, a consul, an emperor of France. He filled again the throne of Charlemagne. His kindred pressed around him, again invested with the pompous pageantry of royalty. The daughter of the long line of kings again stood proudly by his side, and the sunny face of his child shone out from beneath the diadem that encircled his flowing locks. The marshals of the empire awaited his command.

9. The legions of the Old Guard were in the field, their scarred faces rejuvenated, and their ranks, thinned in many battles, replenished. Russia, Prussia, Austria, Denmark, and England, gathered their mighty hosts to give him battle. Once more he mounted his impatient charger, and rushed forth to conquest. He waved his sword aloft, and cried: "Tête d'Armée !"* The feverish vision broke, the mockery was ended. The silver cord was loosed, and the warrior fell back upon his bed a lifeless corpse. THE CORSICAN WAS NOT

CONTENT!

* Tête d'Armée, head of the Army.

EXERCISE CLXII.

The Ith of May came amid wind and rain. Napoleon's passing spirit was deliriously engaged in a strife more terrible than the elements around. The words "tête d'armée," (head of the army), the last which escaped from his lips, intimated that his thoughts were watching the current of a heavy fight. About eleven minutes before six in the evening, Napoleon expired.-Scott's Life of Napoleon

DEATH OF NAPOLEON.

ISAAC M'LELLAN.

1. (0) Wild was the night; yet a wilder night Hung round the soldier's pillow ;

In his bosom there waged a fiercer fight

Than the fight on the wrathful billow.

2. (pl.) A few fond mourners were kneeling by,
The few that his stern heart cherished;
They knew, by his glazed and unearthly eye,
That life had nearly perished.

3. They knew by his awful and kingly look,
By the order hastily spoken,

That he dreamed of days when the nations shook,
And the nations' hosts were broken.

4. He dreamed that the Frenchman's sword still slew,
And triumphed the Frenchman's "eagle;"
And the struggling Austrian fled anew,

Like the hare before the beagle.

5 The bearded Russian he scourged again,
The Prussian's camp was routed,
And again, on the hills of haughty Spain,
His mighty armies shouted.

6. Over Egypt's sands, over Alpine snows,
At the pyramids, at the mountain,

Where the wave of the lordly Danube flows,
And by the Italian fountain;

7. On the snowy cliffs, where mountain-streams
Dash by the Switzer's dwelling,
He led again, in his dying dreams,
His hosts, the broad earth quelling.

8. Again Marengo's field was won, And Jena's bloody battle;

Again the world was overrun,

Made pale at his cannons' rattle.

9. (8) He died at the close of that darksome day.
A day that shall live in story:

In the rocky land they placed his clay,
"And left him alone with his glōry."

1. The

EXERCISE CLXIII.

THE NEEDLE.

SAMUEL WOODWORTH

gay belles of fashion may boast of excelling In waltz or cotillon, at whist or quadrille ; And seek admiration by vauntingly telling Of drawing, and painting, and musical skill; But give me the fair one, in country or city, Whose home and its duties are dear to her heart, Who cheerfully warbles some rustical ditty, While plying the needle with exquisite art: The bright little needle-(")the swift-flying needle, The needle directed by beauty and art.

2. If Love have a potent, a magical token, A talisman, ever resistless and true,—

A charm that is never evaded or broken,

A witchery certain the heart to subdu.?,-
'Tis this, and his armory never has furnished
So keen and unerring, or polished a dart;
Let beauty direct it, so pointed and burnished,
And O! it is certain of touching the heart:
The bright little needle-(") the swift-flying needle.
The needle directed by beauty and art.

3. Be wise, then, ye maidens, nor seek admiration
By dressing for conquest, and flirting with all ;
You never, whate'er be your fortune or station,
Appear half so lovely at rout or at ball,
As gayly convened at a work-covered table,
Each cheerfully active and playing her part.
Beguiling the task with a song or a fable,

And plying the needle with exquisite art:
The bright little needle (") the swift-flying needle.
The needle directed by beauty and art.

EXERCISE CLXIV.

THE VICTOR'S CROWN.

1. A crown for the victor,--a crown of light!

MRS. HALE,

From the land where the flowers ne'er feel a blight

Was gathered the wreath that around it blows;
And he who o'ercometh his treacherous foes,
That fadeless crown shall gain.

A king went forth on the rebel array,
Intrenched where a lovely hamlet lay;

He frowned,——and there's naught save ashes and blood,
And blackened bones, where that hamlet stood,

Yet, his treacherous foes he hath not slain.

2. A crown for the victor,-a crown of light!
Encircled with jewels so pure and bright,
Night never hath gloomed where its luster flows;
And he who can conquer his proudest foes,
That glorious crown shall gain.

A hero came from the gory field,

And low at his feet the pale captives kneeled;
In his might he hath trodden a nation down,
But he may not challenge that glorious crown,
For his proudest foes he hath not slain.

3. A crown for the victor,-a crown of light!
Like the morning sun to the dazzled sight,
From the night of a dungeon raised, it glows;
And he who can slay his deadliest foes,
That shining crown shall gain.

With searching eye, and stealthy tread,
The man of wrath sought his enemy's bed:

Like festering wounds are the wrongs he hath borne;
And he takes the revenge his soul had sworn,
But his deadliest foe he hath not slain.

1. A crown for the victor,--a crown of light!
To be worn with a robe whose spotless white
Makes darkness seem resting on Alpine snows;
And he who o'ercometh his mightiest foes,
That robe and crown shall gain.

With eye upraised, and forehead bare,
A pilgrim knelt down in holy prayer:

He hath wrestled with SELF, and with passion striven;
And to him hath the Sword of the Spirit been given;-
Oh! crown him, for his foes,-his sins,— are slain