3. "Erin, my country, though sad and forsaken, In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore; But, alas! in a far foreign land I awaken, And sigh for the friends who can meet me no more. O cruel fate, wilt thou never replace me In a mansion of peace, where no perils can chase me? Never again shall my brothers embrace me? They died to defend me, or live to deplore. 4. "Where is my cabin door, fast by the wild-wood? 5. "Yet, all its sad recollections suppressing, One dying wish my lone bosom can draw : Erin, an exile bequeaths thee his blessing,Land of my forefathers, Erin go bragh! Buried and cold, when my heart stills her motion, Green be thy fields, sweetest isle of the ocean, And thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with devotion, Erin mavourneen, Erin go bragh!" THOMAS CAMPBELL. DEFINITIONS.-1. E mo'tion, strong feeling. Ăn'them, a song of praise. 2. Cov'ert, a shelter. to lament. 4. Fast, near; close. Num'bers, poetry. 3. De plōre', fond. Răpt'ure, extreme joy or pleasure. NOTE.-5. E'rin må vour'neen (vor'), E'rin gõ bragh (brä), “Ireland my darling, Ireland for ever!" 74.-BARBARA S—. CHARLES LAMB ("Elia") was born February 18, 1775. He was educated at Christ's Hospital. His first poems appeared in a small volume, together with some by Coleridge. Afterward he wrote other poems and a number of essays. His fame rests chiefly upon his Essays. His style is graceful and quaint, reflecting as it does the kindly humor as well as the eccentricities of the author. He died December 27, 1834. 1. ON the noon of the fourteenth of November, 1743, -or '4: I forget which it was,-just as the clock had struck one, Barbara S, with her accustomed punctuality, ascended the long rambling staircase with awkward interposed landing-places which led to the office, or rather a sort of a box with a desk in it, whereat sat the then treasurer of the Old Bath Theater. All over the island it was the custom-and remains so, I believe, to this day-for the players to receive their weekly stipend on the Saturday. It was not much that Barbara had to claim. 2. This little maid had just entered her eleventh year; but her important station at the theater, as it seemed to her, with the benefits which she felt to accrue from her pious application of her small earnings, had given an air of womanhood to her steps and her behavior. You would have taken her to be at least five years older. 3. At the period I commenced with, her slender ́earnings were the sole support of the family, including two younger sisters. I must throw a veil over some mortifying circumstances. Enough to say that her Saturday's pittance was the only chance of a Sunday's (generally their only) meal of meat. This was the little, starved, meritorious maid who stood before old Ravenscroft, the treasurer, for her Saturday's payment. 4. Ravenscroft was a man, I have heard many old theatrical people besides herself say, of all men least calculated for a treasurer. He had no head for accounts, paid away at random, kept scarce any books, and, summing up at the week's end, if he found himself a pound or so deficient, blessed himself that it was no worse. Now, Barbara's weekly stipend was a bare half-guinea. By mistake, he popped into her hand-a whole one. 5. Barbara tripped away. She was entirely unconscious at first of the mistake, and Ravenscroft would never have discovered it. But when she had got down to the first of those uncouth landing-places, she became sensible of an unusual weight of metal pressing her little hand. Now mark the dilemma. 6. She was by nature a good girl. From her parents and those about her she had imbibed no contrary influence. But then they had taught her nothing. Poor men's smoky cabins are not always porticoes of moral philosophy. This little maid had no instinct to evil, but then she might be said to have no fixed principle. She had heard honesty commended, but never dreamed of its application to herself. She thought of it as something which concerned grown-up people,-men and women. She had never known temptation, or thought of preparing resistance against it. 7. Her first impulse was to go back to the old treasurer and explain to him his blunder. He was already so confused with age, besides a natural want of punctuality, that she would have had some difficulty in making him understand it: she saw that in an instant. And then it was such a bit of money! And then the image of a larger allowance of butcher's meat on their table next day came across her, till her little eyes glistened and her mouth moistened. 8. But then Mr. Ravenscroft had always been so goodnatured, had stood her friend behind the scenes, and even recommended her promotion to some of her little parts. But, again, the old man was reputed to be worth a world of money he was supposed to have fifty pounds a year, clear of the theater. And then came staring upon her the figures of her little stockingless and shoeless sisters. 9. And when she looked at her own neat white cotton stockings, which her situation at the theater had made it indispensable for her mother to provide for her, with hard straining and pinching from the family stock, and thought how glad she should be to cover their poor feet with the same, and how then they could accompany her to rehearsals, which they had hitherto been precluded from doing by reason of their unfashionable attire,—in these thoughts she reached the second landing-place. The second, I mean, from the top, for there was still another left to traverse. 10. Now, Virtue, support Barbara! And that neverfailing friend did step in; for at that moment a strength not her own, I have heard her say, was revealed to her,— a reason above reasoning; and, without her own agency as it seemed (for she never felt her feet to move), she found herself transported back to the individual desk she had just quitted, and her hand in the hand of old Ravenscroft, who in silence took back the refunded treasure, and who had been sitting (good man) insensible to the lapse of minutes which to her were anxious ages; and from that moment a deep peace fell upon her heart, and she knew the quality of honesty. 11. A year or two's unrepining application to her profession brightened up the feet and the prospects of her little sisters, set the whole family upon their legs again, and released her from the difficulty of discussing moral dogmas upon a landing-place. I have heard her say that it was a surprise not much short of mortification to her to see the coolness with which the old man pocketed the difference which had caused her such mortal throes. DEFINITIONS.-1. Stipend, wages. 2. Ae erụe', to proceed. 3. Pit'tançe, small allowance. 5. Un equth', awkward. 6. Im bībed', received into the mind. 7. Bit, a quantity. 9. Pre elūd ́ed, shut out. 11. Ŭn re pinʼing, without complaining. Dog'måş, doctrines. Throes, agonies. NOTES.-1. The island. Great Britain is usually familiarly spoken of as "the island." 6. Porticoes of moral philosophy, places where moral philosophy is taught. 75.-THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM. ROBERT SOUTHEY, poet-laureate, essayist, and historian, was born at Bristol, England, August 12, 1774. After several years at Westminster School, he entered Baliol College, Oxford. He began his poetical career with the publication of the revolutionary poem of Wat Tyler in 1794, and between 1802 and 1814 wrote Thalaba, Madoc, The Curse of Kehama, and Roderick, the Last of the Goths. The works which keep Southey's name before the latest generation of readers are his biographies of John Wesley and Lord Nelson, from the latter of which the prose extract is taken. Although a most ambitious and voluminous writer, he never became popular. He died March 21, 1843. 1. It was a summer evening; Old Kaspar's work was done, 2. She saw her brother Peterkin Roll something large and round, |