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a humble dwelling ; she has been employed all day in arrānging its miserable equipments;' she has, for the first time, known the fatigues of domestic employment; she has, for the first time, looked round her on a home destitute of every thing elegant,-. almost of every thing convenient; and may now be sitting down, exhausted and spiritless, brooding over a prospect of future poverty."

11. There was a degree of probability in this picture that I could not gainsay ; so we walked on in silence. After turning from the main road up a nărrow lane, so thickly shaded with forest-trees as to give it a complete air of seclusion, we came in sight of the cottage. It was humble enough in its appearance for the most pastoral poet; and yet it had a pleasing rural look. A wild vine had overrun one end with a profusion of foliäge ; a few trees threw their branches gracefully over it; and I observed several pots of flowers tastefully disposed about the door, and on the grass-plot in front.

12. A small wicket-gate opened upon a foot-path that wound through some shrubbery to the door. Just as we approached, we heard the sound of music. Leslie grasped my arm ; we paused and listened. It was Mary's voice, singing, in a style of the most touching simplicity, a little air of which her husband was peculiarly fond. I felt Leslie's hand tremble on my arm. He stepped forward, to hear more distinctly. His step made a noise on the gravel-walk.

13. A bright, beautiful face glanced out at the window and vanished, a light footstep was heard, and Mary came tripping forth to meet us. She was in a pretty rural dress of white; a few wild-flowers were twisted in her fine hair ; a fresh bloom was on her cheek ; her whole countenance beamed with smiles ; -I had never seen her look so lovely.

14. “My dear George," cried she, “I am so glad you are come! I have been watching and watching for you ; and running down the lane, and looking out for you. I've set out a table under a beautiful tree behind the cottage ; and I've been găthering some of the most delicious strawberries, for I know you are fond of them,—and we have such excellent cream,—and everything is so sweet and still here!-Oh!" said she, putting

E quịp' ments, whatever things are necessary to fit out or furnish; habiliments; furniture.

her arm within his, and looking up brightly in his face, -"oh, we shall be so happy!”

15. Poor Leslie was overcome. He caught her to his bosom, he folded his arms around her, he kissed her again and again; he could not speak, but the tears gushed into his eyes ; and he has often assured me, that, though the world has since gõne prosperously with him, and his life has, indeed, been a happy one, yệt never has he experienced a moment of more ex'quisite felicity.

WASHINGTON IRVING.

VI.
92. THE FAMILY MEETING.

W Father,

mother

, sister, brother,

once, be

E are all here!

brother,
All who hold each other dear.
Each chair is filled—we're all at home;
To-night, let no cold strānger come :
It is not often thus around
Our old familiar hearth we're found :
Bless, then, the meeting and the spot;
For

every care forgot;
Let gentle Peace assert her power,
And kind Affection rule the hour;

We're all-all here.
2.

We're not all here!
Some are ăwāy-the dead ones dear,
Who thronged with us this ancient hearth,
And gave the hour to guiltless mirth.
Fate, with a stern, relentless hand,
Looked in and thinned our little band :
Some, like a night-flash, passed away,
And some sank lingering day by day ;
The quiet grave-yard—some lie there
And cruel Ocean has his share

We're not all here.
3.

We are all here!
Even they, the dead—though dead, so dear;
Fond Memory, to her duty true,
Brings back their faded forms to view.

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How life-like through the mist of years,
Each well-remembered face appears!
We see them as in times long past,
From each to each kind looks are cast;
We hear their words, their smiles behold,
They're round us, as they were of old-

We are all here.

We are all here!
Father, mother, sister, brother,
You that I love with love so dear.
This may not long of us be said ;
Soon must we join the gathered dead,
And by the hearth we now sit round,
Some other circle will be found.
Oh, then, that wisdom may we know,
Which yields a life of peace below!
So, in the world to follow this,
May each repeat, in words of bliss,
We're allall here!

CHARLES SPRAGUE.

SECTION XX.

I.

93. WINDOWS.

WE

E have a special doctrine of windows. They are deo

signed to let the light in, and equally to let the sight out; and this last function' is, in the country, of prime importance. For a window is but another name for a stately picture. There are no such landscapes on canvas as those which you see through glass. There are no painted windows like those which trees and lawns' paint standing in upon them, with all the glory of God resting on them!

2. Our common, small, frequent windows in country dwellings are contemptible. We love rather the generous old English windows, large as the whole side of a room, manyangled, or circular ; but, of whatever shape, they should be recessed-glorious nooks of light, the very antitheses' of those shady coverts' which we search out in forests, in hot summer days.

1 Function, (fủngk' shun), duty, tween woods; a space of ground office, or calling.

covered with grass, generally in · Lawn, (lån), open space be- front of or around a mansion or house. 1 An tỉth' e sis, contrast; the op- * Suffuses, (suf fúz' ez), posite of a thing.

3. These little chambers of light, into which a group may găther, and be both in-doors and out of doors at the same time; where, in storms or in winter, we may have full access to the elements without chill, wet, or exposure,—these are the glory of a dwelling. The great treasures of a dwelling are, the child's cradle, the grandmother's chair, the hearth and old-fashioned fire-place, the table, and the window.

4. Bedrooms should face the east, and let in the full flush of morning light. There is a positive pleasure in a golden bath of early morning light. Your room is filled and glorified. You ăwāke in the věry spirit of light. It creeps upon you, and suffuses* your soul, pierces your sensibility, irradiates the thoughts, and warms and cheers the whole day.

5. It is sweet to ăwāke and find your thoughts moving to the gentle měasures of soft music; but we think it full as sweet to float into morning consciousness upon a flood of golden light, silent though it be! What can be more delicious than a summer morning, dawning through your open windows, to the sound of innumerable birds, while the shadows of branches and leaves swāy to and fro along the wall, or spread new patterns on the floor, wavering with perpetual change!

HENRY WARD BEECHER.

II. .

94. THE MORNING.

I

T is morning, and ă morning sweet, and fresh, and delightful

Everybody knows the morning in its métaphorical sense, applied to so many occasions. The health, strength, and beauty

spreads ; covers. Coverts, (kův erts), covered 6 Ir rā' di ates, brightens ; fills places; shelters.

with light. 3 Hearth, hårth).

* Mět'a phör ic al, figurative.

over

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of early years, lead us to call that period the "morning of life.” Of a lovely young woman we say, she is “bright as the morning ;” and no one doubts why Lucifer' is called “ son of the morning.”

2. But the morning itself, few people, inhabitants of cities, know anything about. Among all our good people, no one in a thousand sees the sun rise once in a year. They know nothing of the morning ; their idea of it is, that it is that part of the day which comes along after a cup of coffee and a beef'steak, or a piece of toast.

3. With them morning is not a new issuing of light; a new bursting forth of the sun, a new waking up of all that has life from a sort of temporary death, to behold again the works of Göd, the heavens and the earth ; it is only a part of the domestic day, belonging to reading the newspapers, answering notes, sending the children to school, and giving orders for dinner.

4. The first streak of light, the earliest purpling of the east, which the lark springs up to greet, and the deeper and deeper coloring into orange and red, till at length the “glorious sun is seen, regent' of the day”—this they never enjoy, for they never see it.

5. Beautiful descriptions of the morning abound in all languages; but they are the strongest, perhaps, in the East, where the sun is often an object of worship. King David speaks of taking to himself the “wings of the morning.”.

6. This is highly poëtical and beautiful. The wings of the morning are the beams of the rising sun. Rays of light are wings. It is thus said that the Sun of righteousness shall ărise “with healing in his wings"-a rising Sun that shall scatter life, health, and joy through the Universe.

7. Milton has fine descriptions of morning, but not so many as Shakspeare,' from whose writings pages of the most beautiful imagery, all founded on the glory of morning, might be filled.

8. I never thought that Adam had much the advantage of us from having seen the world while it was new. The manifesta

Lū' ci fer, the bringer of light; English poet, born December 9th, the planet Venus; Satan.

1603, and died November 8th, 1675. ? Regent, (ré'jent), ruler; govern- 4 William Shakspeare, the celeor; director.

brated English poet, born in 1504, * John Milton, a distinguished and died in 1616.

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