to their component parts. And yet, should I not be as much at a loss to explain the burning of fire, or to account for the liquid quality of water, as the vulgar, who use and enjoy them without thought or examination?

"I remark that all bodies, unsupported, fall to the ground; and I am taught to account for this by the law of gravitation. But what have I gained here more than a term? Does it convey to my mind any idea of the nature of that mysterious and invisible chain, which draws all things to a common centre? I observe the effect, I give a name to the cause; but can I explain or comprehend it?

'Pursuing the track of the naturalist, I have learned to distinguish the animal, vegetable and mineral kingdoms; and to divide these into their distinct tribes and families: but can I tell, after all this toil, whence a single blade of grass derives its vitality? Could the most minute researches enable me to discover the exquisite pencil, that paints and fringes the flower of the field? Have I ever detected the secret, that gives their brilliant dye to the ruby and the emerald, or the art that enamels the delicate shell?

"I observe the sagacity of animals; I call it instinct, and speculate upon its various degrees of approximation to the reason of man. But, after all, I know as little of the cogitations of the brute, as he does of mine. When I see a flight of birds overhead, performing their evolutions, or steering their course to some distant settlement, their signals and cries are as unintelligible to me, as are the learned languages to the unlettered rustic: I understand as little of their policy and laws, as they do of Blackstone's Commentaries.

"But, leaving the material creation, my thoughts have often ascended to loftier subjects, and indulged in metaphysical speculation. And here, while I easily perceive in myself the two distinct qualities of matter and mind, I am baffled in every attempt to comprehend their mutual dependence and mysterious connexion. When my hand moves in obedience to my will, have I the most distant conception of the manner in which the volition is either communicated or understood? Thus, in the exercise of one of the most simple and ordinary actions, I am perplexed and confounded, if I attempt to account for it.

'Again, how many years of my life were devoted to the acquisition of those languages, by the means of which I might explore the records of remote ages, and become famillar with the learning and literature of other times. And what have I gathered from these, but the mortifying fact, at man has ever been struggling with his own impotence, and vainly endeavoring to overleap the bounds which limit has anxious inquiries?

L

"Alas! then, what have I gained by my laborious researches, but an humbling conviction of my weakness and ignorance? How little has man, at his best estate, of which to boast! What folly in him to glory in his contracted powers, or to value himself upon his imperfect acquisitions!"

"Well," exclaimed a young lady, just returned from school, "my education is at last finished!-indeed, it would be strange, if, after five years' hard application, any thing were left incomplete. Happily, that is all over now; and I have nothing to do, but to exercise my various accomplishments.

"Let me see !-As to French, I am mistress of that, and speak it, if possible, with more fluency than English. Italian I can read with ease, and pronounce very well; as well, at least, as any of my friends; and that is all one need wish for in Italian. Music I have learned till I am perfectly sick of it. But, now that we have a grand piano, it will be delightful to play when we have company; I must still continue to practise a little;—the only thing, I think, that I need now improve myself in. And then there are my Italian songs! which every body allows I sing with taste; and as it is what so few people can pretend to, I am particularly glad that

"My drawings are universally admired,-especially the shells and flowers, which are beautiful, certainly besides this, I have a decided taste in all kinds of fancy ornaments. And then my dancing and waltzing,-in which our master himself owned that he could take me no farther;—just the figure for it, certainly; it would be unpardonable if I did

not excel.

"As to common things, geography, and history, and poetry, and philosophy,-thank my stars, I have got through them. all! so that I may consider myself not only perfectly accomplished, but also thoroughly well informed.-Well, to be sure, how much I have fagged through!-the only wonder is, that one head can contain it all!"

LESSON VII.

To the Rainbow.-CAMPBELL.

TRIUMPHAL ARCH, that fill'st the sky
When storms prepare to part,

I ask not proud philosophy

To teach me what thou art.

Still seem, as to my childhood's sight,

A midway station given,

For happy spirits to alight

Betwixt the earth and heaven.

Can all, that optics teach, unfold

Thy form to please me so,

As when I dreamed of gems and gold,
Hid in thy radiant bow?

When Science from Creation's face
Enchantment's veil withdraws,
What lovely visions yield their place
To cold material laws!

And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams,
But words of the Most High,
Have told why first thy robe of beams
Was woven in the sky.

When, o'er the green, undeluged earth, Heaven's covenant thou didst shine, How came the world's gray fathers forth To watch thy sacred sign?

And when its yellow lustre smi.ed
O'er mountains yet untrod,
Each mother held aloft her child
To bless the bow of God.

Methinks, thy jubilee to keep,
The first-made anthem rang,
On earth, delivered from the deep,
And the first poet sang.

Nor ever shall the Muse's eye
Unraptured greet thy beam:
Theme of primeval prophecy,
Be still the poet's theme!

The earth to thee her incense yields,
The lark thy welcome sings,
When, glittering in the freshened fields,
The snowy mushroom springs.

How glorious is thy girdle, cast
O'er mountain, tower and town,
Or mirrored in the ocean vast,
A thousand fathoms down!

As fresh in yon horizon dark,
As young, thy beauties seem,
As when the eagle from the ark,
First sported in thy beam.

For, faithful to its sacred page,
Heaven still rebuilds thy span,

Nor lets the type grow pale with age,
That first spoke peace to man.

LESSON VIII.

Christian Hymn of Triumph;-from "The Martyr of Antioch."-MILMAN.

SING to the Lord! let harp, and lute, and voice,
Up to the expanding gates of heaven rejoice,

While the bright martyrs to their rest are borne !
Sing to the Lord! their blood-stained course is run,
And every head its diadem hath won,

Rich as the purple of the summer morn— Sing the triumphant champions of their God,

While burn their mounting feet along their sky-ward road.

Sing to the Lord! for her, in beauty's prime,
Snatched from this wintry earth's ungenial clime,
In the eternal spring of paradise to bloom;
For her the world displayed its brightest treasure,
And the airs panted with the songs of pleasure.
Before earth's throne she chose the lowly tomb,
The vale of tears with willing footsteps trod,
Bearing her cross with thee, incarnate Son of God

Sing to the Lord! it is not shed in vain,

The blood of martyrs! from its freshening rain

High springs the church, like some fount-shadowing palm: The nations crowd beneath its branching shade,

Of its green leaves are kingly diadems made,

And, wrapt within its deep, embosoming calm, Earth shrinks to slumber like the breezeless deep,

And war's tempestuous vultures fold their wings and sleep.

Sing to the Lord! no more the angels fly—
Far in the bosom of the stainless sky-

The sound of fierce, licentious sacrifice.
From shrin'd alcove and stately pedestal,
The marble gods in cumbrous ruin fall;

Headless, in dust, the awe of nations lies;
Jove's thunder crumbles in his mouldering hand,
And mute as sepulchres the hymnless temples stand.