while, a holy and healing communion with the dead? Must the kindred stillness and gloom of our dwelling be changed for the solemn show of the pall, the talk of the passers-by, and the broad and piercing light of the common sun? Must the ceremonies of the world wait on us even to the open graves of our friends? When the hour came, Arthur rose with a firm step and fixed eye, though his whole face was tremulous with the struggle within him. He went to his sister, and took her arm within his. The bell struck. Its heavy, undulating sound rolled forward like a sea. He felt a violent beating through his whole frame, which shook him that he reeled. It was but a momentary weakness. He moved on, passing those who surrounded him, as if they had been shadows. While he followed the slow hearse, there was a vacancy in his eye, as it rested on the coffin, which showed him hardly conscious of what was before him. His spirit was with his mother's. As he reached the grave, he shrunk back and turned deadly pale; but, sinking his head upon his breast, and drawing, his hat over his face, he stood motionless as a statue till the service was over. He had gone through all that the forms of society required of him. For, as painful as the effort was, and as little suited as such forms were to his own thoughts upon the subject, yet he could not do anything that might appear to the world like a want of reverence and respect for his mother. The scene was ended, and the inward struggle over; and, now that he was left to himself, the greatness of his loss came up full and distinctly before him. It was a dreary and chilly evening when he returned home. When he entered the house, from which his mother had gone forever, a sense of dreary emptiness oppressed him, as if his very ahode had been deserted by every living thing. He walked into his mother's chamber. The naked bedstead, and the chair in which she used to sit, were all that was left in the room. As he threw himself back into the chair, he groaned in the bitterness of his spirit. A feeling of forlornness came over him, which was not to be relieved by tears. She, whom he had watched over in her dying hour, and whom he had talked to as she lay before him in death, as if she could hear and answer him, had gone from him. Nothing was left for the senses to fasten fondly on, and time had not yet taught him to think of her only as a spirit. But time and holy endeavors brought this consolation; and the little. of life, that a wasting disease left him, was past by him, when alone, in thoughtful tranquillity; and amongst his friends he appeared with that gentle cheerfulness which, before his mother's death, had been a part of his nature. LESSON XIII. Lines to a Child on his Voyage to France, to meet his Father. - HENRY WARE, JR. Lo! how impatiently upon the tide The proud ship tosses, eager to be free! Her flag streams wildly, and her fluttering sails O, 't is a thought sublime, that man can force Unconscious of the high sublimity, As 't were a common thing, thy soul unawed, 'Tis wonderful! - and yet, my boy, just such As wide, as terrible, and yet sometimes And thou must sail upon this sea, a long, To ride upon the waves and catch the breeze, Of love paternal! Yes, and more than this: LESSON XIV. Inscription for the Entrance into a Wood. - BRYANT. STRANGER, if thou hast learnt a truth which needs And view the haunts of nature. The calm shade But not in vengeance. Misery is wed To guilt. And hence these shades are still the abodes Of green and stirring branches is alive The squirrel, with raised paws and form erect, Pron. squerril. Partake the deep contentment; as they bend That sucks its sweets. The massy rocks themselves, LESSON XV. Feelings Excited by a Long Voyage-Visit to a New Continent.-W. IRVING. To an American visiting Europe, the long voyage he has to make is an excellent preparative. From the moment you lose sight of the land you have left, all is vacancy until you step on the opposite shore, and are launched at once into the bustle and novelties of another world. I have said that at sea all is vacancy. I should correct the expression. To one given up to day-dreaming, and fond of losing himself in reveries, a sea-voyage is full of subjects for |