Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of Life
Our fortunes must be wrought!

Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought!

Longfellow.

in-ten-e', very great
mys'-ter-y, a secret
am-bas'-sa-dor, the chief man in an
embassy

dip-lo-mat-ic, relating to state
messages
ce-les'-tial, relating to heaven;
also applied to China
il-lu' min-a-ted, lighted up
ham'-mer-cloth, the cloth on the
box of a coach

un-dena-bry, so as not
contradicted

ac-cla-ma'-tion, shouting im-pe'-ri-al, relating to an emperor spec'-ta-cle, a sight in-cens'-ed, made angry | u-nan'-i-mous-ly, with one voice dis-loy'-al-ty, want of respect for a king or queen; faithlessness cu-pid' i-ty, greediness ex-tem'-po-re (Latin), without previous thought con-tu-ma'-cious, obstinate

Amongst the presents carried out by our first embassy to China was a state coach. It had been specially selected as a personal gift by George III.; but the exact mode of using it was an intense mystery to Pekin. The ambassador, indeed (Lord Macartney), had given some imperfect explanations upon this point; but, as his Excellency communicated these in a diplomatic whisper, at the very moment of his departure, the Celestial intellect was very feebly illuminated, and it became necessary to call a cabinet council on the grand state question, 'Where was the Emperor to sit?' The hammercloth happened to be unusually gorgeous; and, partly on that consideration, but partly also because the box offered the most elevated seat, was nearest to the moon, and undeniably went foremost, it was resolved by acclamation that the box was the Imperial throne, and, as for the scoundrel who drove, he might sit where he could find a perch. The horses, therefore, being harnessed, solemnly His Imperial Majesty ascended his new English throne, under a flourish of trumpets, having the First Lord of the Treasury on his right hand, and the chief jester on his left.

Pekin gloried in the spectacle; and in the whole flowery people, constructively present by representation, there was but one discontented person, and that was the coachman. This mutinous individual audaciously shouted, Where am I to sit?' but the privy council, incensed by his disloyalty, unanimously opened the door, and kicked him into the inside. He had all the inside places to himself; but such is the cupidity of ambition, that he was still dissatisfied. I say, he cried out in an extempore petition, addressed to the Emperor through the window—' I say, how am I to catch hold of the reins?' 'Anyhow,' was the Imperial answer; don't trouble me, man, in my glory.' 'How catch the reins ? '

Why, through the windows-through the keyholes -anyhow!'

Finally, this contumacious coachman lengthened the check-strings into a sort of jury-reins, communicating with the horses. With these he drove as steadily as Pekin had any right to expect.

The Emperor returned after the briefest of circuits; he descended in great pomp from his throne, with the severest resolution never to remount it. A public thanksgiving was ordered for his majesty's happy escape from the disease of broken neck, and the state-coach was dedicated thenceforward as a votive offering to the god Fo, Fo-whom the learned more accurately called Fi, Fi.-DE QUINCEY, ‘The English Mail-Coach.'

BETH-GELERT.

Beth-Ge'-lert, the grave of Gelert | crouch (v.), to lie close down, to

brach, a female hound

blast, the sound made by blowing

a horn boot'-y, plunder hie, to hasten

a-ghast', terror-struck

gouts, thick lumps or spots of blood

gore (n.), clotted blood

fang, a sharp tooth

cringe

guise, manner, appearance
re'-cent, new, fresh
be-sprent', sprinkled over
fran'-tic, mad, furious

sup'-pli-ant (n.), one who prays
humbly

yell (n.), a dreadful cry
man' gle (v.), to cut and tear
sculp-ture (n.), a carved work

The spearman heard the bugle sound,
And gaily smiled the morn,

And many a brach, and many a hound,
Attend Llewellyn's horn.

And still he blew a louder blast,

And gave a louder cheer;

Come, Gelert! why art thou the last
Llewellyn's horn to hear?

'Oh! where does faithful Gelert roam?
The flower of all his race!

So true, so brave-a lamb at home-
A lion in the chase!'

That day Llewellyn little loved

The chase of hart or hare,

And scant and small the booty proved;
For Gelert was not there.

Unpleased, Llewellyn homeward hied,
When near the portal seat

His truant Gelert he espied,

Bounding his lord to greet.

But when he gain'd the castle-door
Aghast the chieftain stood;

The hound was smear'd with gouts of gore;
His lips and fangs ran blood!

Llewellyn gazed with wild surprise,
Unused such looks to meet;

His favourite checked his joyful guise,
And crouch'd, and lick'd his feet.
Onward in haste Llewellyn pass'd
(And on went Gelert too),

And still where'er his eyes were cast,
Fresh blood-gouts shocked his view!
O'erturn'd his infant's bed he found,
The blood-stain'd cover rent,
And all around the walls and ground
With recent blood besprent.

He called his child-no voice replied;
He searched, with terror wild!
Blood blood! he found on ev'ry side,
But nowhere found the child!

'Monster, by thee my child's devour'd!'
The frantic father cried!

And to the hilt his vengeful sword
He plung'd in Gelert's side!

His suppliant, as to earth he fell,
No pity could impart ;

But still, poor Gelert's dying yell
Pass'd heavy o'er his heart.

Aroused by Gelert's dying yell,
Some slumb'rer waken'd nigh;
What words the parent's joy can tell,
To hear his infant cry!

Conceal'd beneath a mangled heap,
His hurried search had miss'd,
All glowing from his rosy sleep,
His cherub boy he kiss'd.

Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread-
But the same couch beneath