And pause at times, and feel that we are safe; THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS. LONGFELLOW. L'éternité est une pendule, dont de balancier dit et redit sans ces cesse deux mots seulement, dans le silence des tombeaux: "Toujours! jamais! Jamais! toujours!"Jaques Bridaine. SOMEWHAT back from the village street Tall poplar-trees their shadows throw; An ancient timepiece says to all, "Forever-never! Never-forever!" Halfway up the stair it stands, And points and beckons with its hands, Like a monk, who, under his cloak, Crosses himself, and sighs, alas! Never-forever!" By day its voice is low and light; Never-forever!" Through days of sorrow and of mirth, Through every swift vicissitude Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood, Never-forever!" In that mansion used to be His great fires up the chimney roar'd; Never-forever!" There groups of merry children play'd, Those hours the ancient timepiece told, "Forever-never! Never-forever!" From that chamber, clothed in white, The dead lay in his shroud of snow! And in the hush that follow'd the prayer, Was heard the old clock on the stair, "Forever-never! Never-forever!" All are scatter'd now and fled, Never here, forever there, Where all parting, pain, and care, The horologe of Eternity Sayeth this incessantly,― "Forever-never! Never-forever!" THE BLIND MOTHER. GENTLY, dear mother, here; The bridge is broken near thee, and below Gently, and do not fear; N. P. WILLIS. Lean on me, mother-plant thy staff before thee, Grows green and lovely, where the wood-paths wind; And nature is all bright; And the faint gray and crimson of the dawn, Quivers in tremulous softness on the sky- And the kind looks of friends Peruse the sad expression in thy face, But thou canst hear-and love Yes-thou canst hear-and He 1. Why does the daughter caution her mother to walk softly now? 2. What is here said of the green leaves? 3. What is said of the hazel? 4. What of the forest grass? 5. What of the morning light and of the evening light? 6. Wherefore does the daughter grieve amidst these beauties of nature? 7. How do the blind mother's friends show their sympathy? 8. How does the child that meets her act? 9. How does the stripling act? 10. In what kind of tones are feelings of love and affection generally uttered? 11. What in the daughter's voice betrays her love for her mother? 12. Wherefore does the daughter repeat these words, "thou canst hear"? 13. In what is God here shown to be good to the blind? 14. Name the five senses. 15. How should those feel who possess all their external senses? 16. How should we ever act towards the blind? THE WOODCUTTER'S NIGHT SONG. CLARE. Work is the appointed calling of man on earth, the end for which his various faculties were given, the element in which his nature is ordained to develop itself, and in which his progressive advance towards heaven is to lie.-Arnold. WELCOME, red and roundy sun, Joyful are the thoughts of home, Though to leave your pretty song, Then I'm with you all again. If I stop, and stand about, Well I know how things will be, Judy will be looking out Every now and then for me. So fare-ye-well! and hold your tongues; All day long I love the oaks, Wife and children all are there, Soon as ever I get in, When my fagot down I fling, Welcome, red and roundy sun, Joyful are the thoughts of home, 1. How does the woodcutter address the sun? 6. Name the woodman's wife. 7. Does the woodcutter grumble at his 2. What has made him ready for his lowly station? chair? 3. What are the bill and mittens? 4. What is the woodcutter sorry to leave? 5. If he spend his time speaking to the birds, what will be taking place at home? 8. Tell me the prettiest spot to him at night. 9. In what state are matters at home? 10. What carries he home on his shoulder? LINES TO A SWALLOW. THOMAS AIRD. "The Swallow," says Sir Humphry Davy in his Salmonia, "is one of my favourite birds, and a rival of the Nightingale, for he cheers my sense of seeing as much as the other does my sense of hearing. He is the glad prophet of the year-the harbinger of the best season; he lives a life of enjoyment amongst the loveliest forms of nature; winter is unknown to him; and he leaves the green meadows of England in autumn for the myrtle and orange groves of Italy, and for the palms of Africa." The bird does not winter in Italy, leaving it in autumn, and going off in the direction of Egypt, and has been seen in Egypt going still further south; but, in other respects, "this is in truth," to use the words of Mr Yarrell, "a brief but perfect sketch of the history of the Swallow."-Patterson's Zoology. THE swallow is a bonnie bird, comes twitt'ring o'er the sea, The lambs like snow all nibbling go upon the ferny hills, The silent power that brought thee back, with leading strings of love, B |