townsfolk, strangers, reporters, and all present-without leaving the box, or any manner of consultation whatever, they brought in a simultaneous verdict of Not Guilty.

15. The judge, who was a shrewd fellow, winked at the manifest iniquity of the decision; and, when the court was dismissed, went privily and bought up all the pigs that could be had for love or money. In a few days his lordship's town house was observed to be on fire. The thing took wing, and now there was nothing to be seen but fires in every direction. Fuel and pigs grew enormously dear all over the district.

16. The insurance offices one and all shut up shop. People built slighter and slighter every day, until it was feared that the very science of architecture would in no long time be lost to the world. Thus this custom of firing houses continued, till, in process of time, says the manuscript, a sage arose, like our Locke, who made a discovery that the flesh of swine, or indeed of any other animal, might be cooked (burnt, as they called it,) without the necessity of consuming a whole house to dress it.

17. Then first began the rude form of a gridiron. Roasting by the string, or spit, came a century or two later-I forget in whose dynasty. By such slow degrees, concludes the manuscript, do the most useful, and seemingly the most obvious arts make their way among mankind.

18. Without placing too implicit faith on the account thus given, it must be agreed, that if a worthy pretext for so dangerous an experiment as setting houses on fire (especially in these days) could be assigned in favor of any culinary object, that pretext and excuse might be found in Roast Pig.

LESSON LXXX.

THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS.

THOMAS HOOD.

THOMAS HOOD, a famous English poet and essayist, was born in London in 1798 and died in 1845. Like poor Yorick he was "a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy." As a punster he is unrivaled. Some of his serious poems are

exquisitely tender and pathetic. At different times during his life, he was editor of "The Gem," "New Monthly Magazine," and "Hood's Magazine."

1. ONE more unfortunate,
Weary of breath,
Rashly importunate,
Gone to her death!

2. Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashioned so slenderly,
Young, and so fair!

3. Look at her garments
Clinging like cerements;
Whilst the wave constantly
Drips from her clothing:
Take her up instantly,
Loving, not loathing!

4. Touch her not scornfully;
Think of her mournfully,
Gently and humanly;
Not of the stains of her-
All that remains of her
Now is pure womanly.

5. Make no deep scrutiny
Into her mutiny
Rash and undutiful;
Past all dishonor,
Death has left on her
Only the beautiful.

6. Loop up her tresses

Escaped from the comb,
Her fair auburn tresses;
While wonderment guesses
Where was her home?

N

7. Who was her father?
Who was her mother?
Had she a sister?
Had she a brother?

Or was there a dearer one

Still, and a nearer one
Yet, than all other?

8. Alas! for the rarity
Of Christian charity
Under the sun!
Oh! it was pitiful!
Near a whole city full,
Home she had none!

9. Sisterly, brotherly,
Fatherly, motherly
Feelings had changed:
Love by harsh evidence,
Thrown from its eminence;
Even God's providence
Seeming estranged.

10. Where the lamps quiver

So far in the river,

With many a light

From window and casement,

From garret to basement,
She stood with amazement,
Houseless by night.

The bleak winds of March
Made her tremble and shiver;
But not the dark arch,
Or the black flowing river.

11. Mad from life's history
Glad to death's mystery
Swift to be hurled-
Anywhere, anywhere-
Out of the world-

In she plunged boldly,
No matter how coldly
The rough river ran.

12. Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashioned so slenderly,
Young, and so fair!

13. Ere her limbs frigidly
Stiffen too rigidly,
Decently, kindly,

Smooth, and compose them;
And her eyes, close them,
Staring so blindly!

14. Dreadfully staring

Through muddy impurity,
As when with the daring
Last look of despairing
Fixed on futurity.

15. Perishing gloomily,
Spurred by contumely,
Cold inhumanity,
Burning insanity,

Into her rest!

-Cross her hands humbly

As if praying dumbly,

Over her breast!

Owning her weakness,

Her evil behavior,

And leaving, with meekness,

Her sins to her Saviour!

LESSON LXXXI.

GOLDEN GRAIN.

EDWARD EVERETT.

1. GOLD, while it is gold, is good for little or nothing. You can neither eat it, nor drink it, nor smoke it. You can neither wear it, nor burn it as fuel, nor build a house with it; it is really useless till you exchange it for consumable, perishable goods; and the more plentiful it is the less its exchangeable value.

2. Far different the case with our Atlantic gold; it does not perish when consumed, but, by a nobler alchemy than that of Paracelsus, is transmuted in consumption to a higher life. "Perish in consumption," did the old miser say? Thou fool, that which thou sowest is not quickened except it die.

3. The burning pen of inspiration, ranging heaven and earth for a similitude, to convey to our poor minds some not inadequate idea of the mighty doctrine of the resurrection, can find no symbol so expressive as "bare grain, it may chance of wheat or some other grain."

4. To-day a senseless plant, to-morrow it is human bone and muscle, vein and artery, sinew and nerve; beating pulse, heaving lungs, toiling, ah, sometimes, overtoiling brain. Last June, it sucked from the cold breast of the earth the watery nourishment of its distending sap-vessels; and now it clothes the manly form with warm cordial flesh; quivers and thrills with the five-fold mystery of sense; purveys and ministers to the higher mystery of thought.

5. Heaped up in your granaries this week, the next it will strike in the stalwart arm, and glow in the blushing cheek, and flash in the beaming eye; till we learn at last to realize that the slender stalk, which we have seen shaken by the summer breeze, bending in the corn-field under the yellow burden of harvest, is indeed the "staff of life," which, since the world began, has supported the toiling and struggling myriads of humanity on the mighty pilgrimage of being.