that the two Figures represent but one person. The hand descends slowly after the word head, and comes to rest upon the word valley.

Away-away! and lay thy head
In the low valley) of the dead!

LESSON CXLVIII.

ADAMS AND JEFFERSON.—EVERETT.

THEY have gone to the companions of their cares, of their toils. It is well with them. These treasures of America are now in Heaven. How long the list of our good and wise and brave assembled there! how few remain with us! There is our Washington; and those who followed him in their country's confidence, are now met together with him, and all that illustrious company. The faithful marble may preserve their image; the engraven brass may proclaim their worth; but the humblest sod of Independent America, with nothing but the dew-drops of the morning to gild it, is a prouder mausoleum than kings or conquerors can boast. The country is their monument. Its independence is their epitaph.

But not to their country is their praise limited. The whole earth is the monument of illustrious men. Wherever an agonizing people shall perish, in a generous convulsion, for want of a valiant arm and a fearless heart, they will cry,

the last accents of despair, Oh, for a Washington, an Adams, a Jefferson! Wherever a regenerated nation, starting up in its might, shall burst the links of steel that enchain it, the praise of our fathers shall be the prelude of their triumphal song.

The contemporary and successive generations of men will disappear. In the long lapse of ages, the tribes of America, like those of Greece and Rome, may pass away. The fabric of American freedom, like all things human, however firm and fair, may crumble into dust. But the cause in which these our fathers shone, is immortal. They did that, to which no age, no people of reasoning men, can be indifferent.

Their eulogy will be uttered in other languages, when those we speak, like us who speak them, shall all be forgotten. And when the great account of humanity shall be closed at the throne of God, in the bright list of his children, who best adorned and served it, shall be found the names of our Adams and our Jefferson.

LESSON CXLIX.

PLEA OF THE RED INDIAN.-ANONYMOUS.

OH! why should the white man hang on my path,
Like the hound on the tiger's track?

Does the flesh of my dark cheek waken his wrath?
Does he covet the bow at my back?

He has rivers and seas, where the billow and breeze
Bear riches for him alone;

And the sons of the wood never plunge in the flood
That the white man calls his own.

Then why should he covet the streams where none
But the red skin dare to swim ?

Oh! why should he wrong the hunter, one
Who never did harm to him?

The Father above thought fit to give

To the white man corn and wine;

There are golden fields where he may live—
But the forest wilds are mine.

The eagle has its place of rest—

The wild horse where to dwell;
And the Spirit who gave the bird its nest,
Made me a home as well.

THE first of these figures exhibits a beautiful suspending gesture, made upon the first word back, by bringing the hands up rapidly and crossed, with spread fingers. The second Figure, an emphatic, significant gesture, made upon the second word back, by striking out the hands, spiritedly, in nearly a horizontal line; the hands come to rest after the word red.

Then back, go | back, from the red) skin's track,
For the hunter's eye grows dim,

To find that the white man wrongs the one
Who never did harm to him.

LESSON CL.

BEHIND AND BEFORE.-AUTHOR OF ' Pen and Ink SKETCHES

BEFORE and behind before and behind!

"Twere well if we often felt inclined
To keep these two little words in mind

That are pregnant with joy or sorrow :

Many a tale of weal or of wo

This brace of significant syllables show,
From which we may all, as through life we go,
Instruction and warning borrow.

For instance-look at the gaudy screen,
Which stands the bar and the street between,
To prevent Death's doings from being seen
By the passers-by on the paving:
Before it, Sobriety gravely goes

With its cheek of bloom, and its lip of rose
Behind it, Drunkenness brews its woes,
Bodies and souls depraving.

Before and behind! behind and before!"
I heard a toper once muttering o'er
The words; and a rueful phiz he wore
As he chimed the syllables over;
Before I drank of the liquid flame,

I had health and wealth and a right good name,
I knew not sorrow, disease, and shame;
In fact, I was living in clover.

Before the screen I'd a purse well lined→→
A contented heart and a cheerful mind;
I had pleasures before I went behind,
Before-but ah! never after;

Behind it, my money went day by day,
My pleasures, like summer-birds, flew away;
Behind it I darkened the mental ray

And shrieked out my mirthless laughter

Behind, behind, and nothing before
But a prison cell or a workhouse door,
And a bundle of rags on a creaking floor,
In lieu of flock or of feather;
Behindhand with payments when bills were due;
Behindhand with cash and with credit too;
Before no fire when the fingers were blue
In the keen December weather!

Before the bar but behind the times;
Behindhand when sounded the early chimes,
When Industry wakens, and toils, and climbs
Up the rugged ascent of Duty:

Behindhand when little ones cried for bread;
Behindhand with board, and bereft of hed;
But before me a Wife with a drooping head,
Whose anguish had marred her beauty.

Trouble and turmoil, and torture and gloom!
Behind, all light, and before, no bloom;
With no Angel sitting upon the tomb,
To rob it of half its terrors;

Behindhand, when Sabbath bells stirred the air;
Before no altar, to offer there

The incense of praise, and the voice of prayer,
For pardon of sins and errors.

Before the Judge; and before one knows,
Knocked down by the law's tremendous blows,
And behind the bars, which in dismal rows,
Stand in front of our human cages;
Behind the dismal curtain which hangs,
Where Remorse, the devil, infixes his fangs,
Inflicting on Earth infernal pangs,

As instalments of Satan's wages.

Behindhand always, and want before,
And a surly voice crying out"

no more!"

For the Rumseller never chalks up a score,
When he knows the last cent's expendel.

No eye to pity-no hand to save,

As the victim is tossed upon misery's wave, Leaving nothing behind when he seeks the grave, But the tale of a tragedy ended.

Behind his coffin no mourners go,

And when the clods on his corse they throw,
Folks cry-" I thought it would be just so”-
Then that Toper fell to thinking :—

Oh I never felt so behind before,

Said he, as he turned from the bar-room door;
And memory painted the smiles he wore
Before he had taken to drinking.

Behind-oh! the drink has left nothing behind,
But a breaking heart and a clouded mind,
And a serpent round all life's flowers entwined,
And a horrible shadow o'er me.

But I'll quit the cup, and no more be seen
Where the Rumseller plies his vocation mean,
And blinded no more behind the screen,

Have a sun-bright path before me