gold and silver with them, snatched up, no doubt, in haste and darkness. But the fiery flood was on their track, and vain their wealth, their flight, the age of one, the youth of the other. The burning lava rolled above them and beyond, and the faithful dog turned back to share the fate of his mistress, dying at her feet.

Seen by the light of such an incident, how vividly that night of horror looms upon the sense. Does not the imagination picture the little group in their own house, by the side of their fountain, languidly chatting over the day's events and of the unusual heat? Does it not hear with them the troubled swell of the waters in the bay-see as they do how the night comes down in sudden strangeness; how the sky opens overhead, and flames break out, while scoræ, sand, and molten rocks come pouring down? What movements, what emotions, what surprise! The scene grows darker every instant; the hollow monotony of the bay is lifted into yells and shrieks; the air grows thick and hot with flames, and at the mountain's foot is heard the roll of the liquid lava.

Jewels, household goods, gold and silver coins, are snatched up on the instant. No time to say farewell; darkness in front and fire behind, they rush into the streets, choked with falling houses and flying citizens. How find the way through passages which have no longer outlets? Confusion, darkness, uproar every-where; the shouts of parted friends, the agony of men struck down by falling columns. Fear, madness, and despair unchanged; here penury clutching gold it can not keep; there gluttony feeding on its final meal, and frenzy striking in the dark to forestall death. Through all, fancy hears the young girl's screams, the fire is on her jeweled hand. No time for thought, no pause, the flood rolls on, and wisdom, beauty, age and youth, with all the stories of their love, their hopes, their rank, wealth, and greatness,-all the once affluent life are gone forever.

XXVIII.-ADDRESS TO THE INDOLENT.

Is not the field, with lively culture green,
A sight more joyous than the dead morass?
Do not the skies, with active ether clean,

And fanned by sprightly zephyrs, far surpass
The foul November fogs, and slumb'rous mass,
With which sad nature veils her drooping face?
Does not the mountain stream, as clear as glass,
Gay dancing on, the putrid pool disgrace?-
The same in all holds true, but chief in human race.

Ah! what avail the largest gifts of Heaven,
When drooping health and spirits go amiss?
How tasteless then whatever can be given!
Health is the vital principle of bliss,
And exercise of health. In proof of this,
Behold the wretch who slugs his life away,

Soon swallowed in disease's sad abyss,

While he whom toil has braced, or manly play,
Has light as air each limb, each thought as clear as day.

Oh, who can speak the vigorous joy of health,—
Unclogged the body, unobscured the mind?
The morning rises gay, with pleasing stealth
The temperate evening falls serene and kind.
In health the wiser brutes true gladness find:

See! how the younglings frisk along the meads,
As May comes on, and wakes the balmy wind;
Rampant with life, their joy all joy exceeds;
Yet what but high-strung health this dancing pleasance breeds!
There are, I see, who listen to my lay,

Who, wretched, sigh for virtue, yet despair.
“All may be done," methinks I hear them say,
"Even death despised by generous actions fair,—
All, but for those who to these bowers repair!
Their every power dissolved in luxury,

To quit of torpid sluggishness the lair,

And from the powerful arms of sloth get free'Tis rising from the dead:-Alas!-it can not be!"

Would you, then, learn to dissipate the band
Of these huge, threatening difficulties dire,
That in the weak man's way like lions stand,
His soul appall, and damp his rising fire?
Resolve,-resolve! and to be men aspire.
Exert that noblest privilege,—alone

Here to mankind indulged:-control desire!

Let godlike reason, from her sovereign throne, Speak the commanding word, I will!-and it is done.

-Thomson.

XXIX. THE DEMAGOGUE.

THE lowest of politicians is that man who seeks to gratify an invariable selfishness by pretending to seek the public good. For a profitable popularity he accommodates himself to all opinions, to all dispositions, to every side, and to every prejudice. He is a mirror, with no face of its own, but a smooth surface from which each man of ten thousand may see himself reflected.

He glides from man to man, coinciding with their views, simulating their tastes, and pretending their feelings: with this one he loves a man; with that one he hates the same man; he favors a law, and he dislikes it; he approves and opposes; he is on both sides at once, and seemingly wishes that he could be on one side more. He attends meetings to suppress intemperance, but at elections makes every grogshop free to all drinkers. He can with equal relish plead most eloquently for temperance, or toss off a dozen glasses of whisky in a dirty doggery.

He thinks that there is a time for every thing, and therefore at one time he jeers and leers, and swears with a carousing blackguard crew; and at another time, professing to have been happily converted, he displays all the various features of devotion. Indeed, he is a capacious Christianan epitome of faith.

He piously asks the class-leader of the welfare of his charge, for he was always a Methodist, and always will be,until he meets a Presbyterian, then he is a Presbyterian; however, as he is not a bigot, he can afford to be a Baptist in a good Baptist neighborhood, and with a wink he tells the pious elder that he never had one of his children baptized, not he! He whispers to the Reformer that he abhors all creeds but Baptism and the Bible. After this, room will be found in his heart for the fugitive sects, also, which come and go like clouds in a summer sky.

Upon the stump his tact is no less rare. He roars and bawls with courageous plainness on points about which all agree; but on subjects where men differ, his meaning is nicely balanced on a pivot, that it may dip either way. He depends for success chiefly upon humorous stories. A glowing patriot telling stories is a dangerous antagonist; for it is hard to expose the fallacy of a hearty laugh, and men convulsed with merriment are slow to perceive in what way an argument is a reply to a story: men who will admit that he has not a solitary moral virtue will vote for him, and assist him in obtaining the office to which he aspires.

-H. W. Beecher.

XXX.-SHORT SELECTIONS.

PEACE.

Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meeting,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visag'd war has smooth'd his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds,
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber,
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.

-Shakespeare.

PHILOSOPHY.

PHILOSOPHY consists not

In airy schemes, or idle speculations;
The rule and conduct of all social life
Is her great province. Not in lonely cells
Obscure she lurks, but holds her heavenly light
To senates and to kings, to guide their councils,
And teach them to reform and bless mankind.

-Thomson.

PRIDE.

PRIDE by presumption bred, when at a height,
Encount'ring with contempt, both march in ire;
And 'twixt 'em bring base cruelty to light:
The loathsome offspring of a hated sire.

A SKULL.

-Earl of Sterlené.

REMOVE YOn skull from out the scatter'd heaps;

Is that a temple where a God may dwell?

Why, ev'n the worm at last disdains her shatter'd cell!
Look on its broken arch, its ruin'd wall,
Its chambers desolate, and portals foul;

Yes, this was once Ambition's airy hall,

The dome of thought, the palace of the soul;
Behold through the lack-luster, eyeless hole,
The gay recess of wisdom and of wit,

And passion's host, that never brook'd control:
Can all saint, sage, or sophist ever writ,
People this lonely tower, this tenement refit?

-Byron.

SLANDER.

'Tis slander

Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue
Out-venoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie

All corners of the world: kings, queens, and states,
Maids, matrons,-nay, the secrets of the grave
This viperous slander enters.

-Shakespeare.