man to that of Timothy. Young Bell was a poor boy; commenced his life with nothing but health and trade; but he adopted as a sacred maxim, "pay as you go ." and he frequently told me, he found little difficulty in sticking to his text. The necessaries of life are few, and industry secures them to every man; it is the elegancies of life that empty the purse; the nick-knacks of fashion, the gratification of pride, and the indulgence of luxury, that makes a man poor. To guard against these, some resolution is necessary; and the resolution, once formed, is much strengthened and guarded by the habit of paying for every article we buy, at the time. If we do so, we shall seldom purchase what our circumstances will not afford.

This was exactly the manner in which Jack Bell proceeded. Habit, strengthened by long continuance, and supported by reason, became second nature. His business prospered; his old purse became filled with Spanish dollars; all his purchases, being made for cash, were favourable, and by always knowing how he stood with the world, he avoided all derangement in his affairs. He is now the squire of a little village, with a good property, a profitable business, and the respect of all who know him.

Young reader, who hast not entered on the stage of business, when you come forward in the world, go and do likewise, and you shall have like reward.

LESSON CXXIX.

Interesting Circumstances relating to the Bible.-PAYSON.

In addition to the intrinsick excellencies of the Bible, which give it, considered merely as a human production, powerful claims to the attention of persons of taste and learning, there are various circumstances of an adventitious nature, which render it peculiarly interesting to a reflecting mind. Among these circumstances, we may perhaps, not improperly, mention its great antiquity.

Whatever may be said of its inspiration, some of the books, which compose it, are unquestionably the most ancient literary compositions extant, and perhaps the most ancient that ever were written; nor is it very improbable, that letters

were first employed in recording some parts of them, and that they were written in the language first spoken by man.

It is also not only the most ancient book, but the most ancient monument of human exertion, the eldest offspring of human intellect, now in existence. Unlike the other works of man, it inherits not his frailty. All the contemporaries of its infancy have long since perished, and are forgotten; yet this wonderful volume still survives. Like the fabled pillars of Seth, which are said to have bid defiance to the deluge, it has stood for ages, unmoved in the midst of that flood, which sweeps away men with their labours into oblivion.

That these circumstances render it an interesting object of contemplation, it is needless to remark. Were there now in existence a tree, which was planted; an edifice, which was erected; or any monument of human ingenuity, which was formed at that early period, in which some parts of the Bible were written; would it not be contemplated with the keenest interest; carefully preserved, as a precious relick; and considered, as something, little less than sacred?

With what emotions, then, will a thoughtful mind open the Bible; and what a train of interesting reflections is it, in this view, calculated to excite? While we contemplate its antiquity, exceeding that of every object around us, except the works of God; and view it in anticipation, as continued to exist unaltered until the end of time; must we not feel almost irresistibly impelled to venerate it, as proceeding originally from Him, who is yesterday, today, and forever the same; whose works, like his years, fail not?.

LESSON CXXX.

To the Eagle.-PERCIVAL.

[From the Atlantic Souvenir for 1827,]

BIRD of the broad and sweeping wing!
Thy home is high in heaven,

Where wide the storms their banners fling,
And the tempest clouds are driven.
Thy throne is on the mountain top;
Thy fields-the boundless air;
And hoary peaks, that proudly prop
The skies-thy dwellings are.

Thou sittest like a thing of light,
Amid the noontide blaze :

The midway sun is clear and bright—
It cannot dim thy gaze.

Thy pinions, to the rushing blast

O'er the bursting billow spread,

Where the vessel plunges, hurry past,

Like an angel of the dead.

Thou art perched aloft on the beetling crag, And the waves are white below,

And on, with a haste that cannot lag,

They rush in an endless flow.

Again, thou hast plumed thy wing for flight

To lands beyond the sea,

And away, like a spirit wreathed in light,
Thou hurriest wild and free.

Thou hurriest over the myriad waves,

And thou leavest them all behind;

Thou sweepest that place of unknown graves,

Fleet as the tempest wind.

When the night storm gathers dim and dark,

With a shrill and boding scream,

Thou rushest by the foundering bark,

Quick as a passing dream.

Lord of the boundless realm of air!
In thy imperial name,

The hearts of the bold and ardent dare,
The dangerous path of fame.

Beneath the shade of thy golden wings,
The Roman legions bore,

From the river of Egypt's cloudy springs,
Their pride, to the polar shore.

For thee they fought, for thee they fell,
And their oath was on thee laid;
To thee the clarions raised their swell,
And the dying warriour prayed.

Thou wert, through an age of death and fears,
The image of pride and power,

Till the gathered rage of a thousand years
Burst forth in one awful hour.

And then, a deluge of wrath it came,

And the nations shook with dread;

And it swept the earth till its fields were flame

And piled with the mingled dead.

Kings were rolled in the wasteful flood,
With the low and crouching slave;
And together lay, in a shroud of blood,
The coward and the brave.

And where was then thy fearless flight? "O'er the dark mysterious sea,

To the lands that caught the setting light,

The cradle of Liberty.

There, on the silent and lonely shore,

For ages, I watched alone,

And the world, in its darkness, asked no more,

Where the glorious bird had flown.

But then came a bold and hardy few,
And they breasted the unknown wave;
I caught afar the wandering crew;
And I knew they were high and brave.
I wheeled around the welcome bark,
As it sought the desolate shore ;
And up to heaven, like a joyous lark,
My quivering pinions bore.

And now that bold and hardy few
Are a nation wide and strong,

And danger and doubt I have led them through,
And they worship me in song;

And over their bright and glancing arms

On field and lake and sea,

With an eye that fires, and a spell that charms,
I guide them to victory."

LESSON CXXXI.

Appearance of the Students at Göttingen.-U. S. REVIEW.

[From a Letter of an American in Europe.]

THE morning after I arrived in Göttingen, I went out at an early hour, full of transatlantick respect for European literature, and by a natural association, for European universities, both professors and students. My head was busy in figuring forth scholastick forms, with eyes fixed in meditation, brows furrowed by thought,

"With sable stole

Over their decent shoulders drawn."

'This was what I expected to see; now I will tell you what I saw.

I met crowds of coarse young men, with a swaggering air, mostly dressed in frock coats of brown blanketing, such as our sailors' dreadnoughts are made of. They wore low round caps of all hues, although green was on the whole predominant. Nor was it, I ween, in the Palais Royal, nor yet in Bond Street, that they had learned the art of enveloping the neck. Some wore handkerchiefs of every variety of stripe and fabrick; others a woollen tippet, which was sometimes blue, sometimes red, and sometimes of no colour at all. I have even heard it asserted, that under cover of the closely buttoned frock, this last article frequently served in lieu both of vest and cravat, but for the correctness of this I cannot vouch from personal inspection. Others, more whimsical or more independent, left the neck entirely bare.

Some clattered along the publick ways in spurs; these, I concluded, were newly dismounted; but I soon found my mistake, it was not uncommon for one to wear them who