He took the paper, and I watched, He read the next; the grin grew broad, He read the third; a chuckling noise The fourth; he broke into a roar; Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye, LESSON XXVI. THE DEATH OF FLOWERS. The following beautiful contrast between the death of Flowers and the death of Man, was found floating in the newspapers, but the Editor knows nothing of its origin, except that it must have proceeded from a heart of purity, and a taste and sentiment of no common rank. How happily, how happily the flowers die away- The gay and glorious creatures! they neither "toil nor spin ;" Yet lo! what goodly raiment they are all apparelled in; No tears are on their beauty, but dewy gems more bright Than ever brow of eastern queen endiademed with light. The young, rejoicing creatures! their pleasures never pall; Nor lose in sweet contentment, because so free to all! The dew, the showers, the sunshine, the balmy, blessëd air, Spend nothing of their freshness, though all may freely share. The happy, careless creatures! of time they take no heed; Nor weary of his creeping, nor tremble at his speed; Nor sigh with sick impatience, and wish the light away; Nor when 't is gone, cry dolefully, "Would God that it were day!" And when their lives are over, they drop away to rest, Unconscious of the penal doom, on holy Nature's breast. No pain have they in dying-no shrinking from decay; Oh, could we but return to earth as easily as they! LESSON XXVII. TIT FOR TAT.-EDITOR. The hint of the following fable was taken from the French of De Stassart, but no translation was attempted. A mouse, a cunning little soul, When, right between him and his door, "A clever cat could lick her ear," Ate up the trotter ;-but his cheer Completing, like an epicure, With the rich cheese, the evil doer Himself was nabbed by that same fox Do ye In hungry mood perchanced to stray, And gave him on the ear a pat This fable aims at statesmen, when The following amusing personification of Winter affords the pupil a good opportunity to vary his voice and style; the last line, pronounced with a shrug, produces a pleasant effect. The ingenious author is HUGH MOORE. Old Winter is coming again-alack! How icy and cold is he! He cares not a pin for a shivering back, A witty old fellow this Winter is; A mighty old fellow for glee! He cracks his jokes on the pretty sweet miss, Old Winter's a frolicksome blade I wot- He'll whistle along for the "want of his thought,” Old Winter is blowing his gust along, From morning till night he will sing his song; Now moaning and short-now howling and longHis voice is loud, for his lungs are strong,— A merry old fellow is he! Old Winter's a wicked old chap, I ween; * The old poets often throw the accent upon the last syllable of this and similar words. He withers the flowers so fresh and green, Old Winter's a tough old fellow for blows, He will trip up our trotters, and rend our clothes, A cunning old fellow is Winter, they say, He peeps in the crevices day by day, To see how we 're passing our time away, And marks all our doings from grave to gay— I'm afraid he is peeping at me! LESSON XXIX. THE TAMING OF BUCEPHALUS. It is related of Alexander the Great, that when a young man, witnessing the unsuccessful attempts of certain grooms to mount a remarkable horse that had been presented to king Philip, his father, he asked permission of the king to attempt it himself. Having with great difficulty obtained permission, he turned the head of the horse towards the sun, and then he mounted him with an ease that seemed almost supernatural to those who had not seen, as he had, that it was the sight of his own shadow that had made the horse so unmanageable. The horse Bucephalus became the favorite of Alexander, and bore him in most of his important battles. The following poetical account of the incident was written by PARK BENJAMIN, of New-York. "Bring forth the steed!" It was a level plain, *Sheen means brightness or splendor. |