Whatever instances of heroic self-denial history may record, it can produce no greater than that which this obscure individual exercised in the simplicity of his heart.

He returned home with his longing gratified, and employed his last penny in paying the boatman who ferried him over to his native island. He renounced the study of divinity, which he hated, and entered into the service of a peasant, with whom he continued for a whole year, at the end of which he employed his wages which he had saved, on a journey to the East, whither, impelled by the love of travelling, he set out upon a pilgrimage.

LESSON CXXV.

On the waste of life.-FRANKLIN.

AMERGUS was a gentleman of good estate; he was bred to no business, and could not contrive how to waste his hours agreeably; he had no relish for any of the proper works of life, nor any taste for the improvement of the mind; he spent generally ten hours of the four-and-twenty in bed; he dozed away two or three more on his couch; and as many were dissolved in good liquor every evening, if he met with company of his own humor. Thus he made a shift to wear off ten years of his life since the paternal estate fell into his hands.

One evening as he was musing alone, his thoughts happened to take a most unusual turn, for they cast a glance backward, and he began to reflect on his manner of life. He bethought himself what a number of living beings had been made a sǎcrifice to support his carcass, and how much corn and wine had been mingled with these offerings; and he set himself to compute what he had devoured since he came to the age of man. "About a dozen feathered creatures, small and great, have, one week with another," said he, "given up their lives to prolong mine, which, in ten years, amounts to at least six thousand. Fifty sheep have been sacrificed in a year, with half a hecatomb of black cattle, that I might have the choicest parts offered weekly upon my table.

"Thus a thousand beasts, out of the flock and the herd, have been slain in ten years' time to feed me, besides what the forest has supplied me with. Many hundreds of fishes have.

in all their variety, been robbed of life for my repast, an of the smaller fry some thousands. A measure of corn would hardly suffice me fine flour enough for a month's provision, and this arises to above six score bushels; and many hogsheads of wine and other liquors have passed through this body of mine-this wretched strainer of meat and drink! And what have I done all this time for God and man? What a vast profusion of good things upon a useless life, and a worthless liver?

"There is not the meanest creature among all those which I have devoured, but hath answered the end of its creation better than I. It was made to support human nature, and it has done so. Every crab and oyster I have eat, and every grain of corn I have devoured, hath filled up its place in the rank of beings with more propriety and honor than I have done. Oh, shameful waste of life and time !”

In short, he carried on his moral reflections with so just and severe a force of reason, as constrained him to change his whole course of life; to break off his follies at once, and to apply himself to gain some useful knowledge, when he was more than thirty years of age. He lived many following years with the character of a worthy man and an excellent Christian; he died with a peaceful conscience, and the tears of his country were dropped upon his tomb.

The world, that knew the whole series of his life, were amazed at the mighty change. They beheld him as a wonder of reformation, while he himself confessed and adored the Divine power and mercy which had transformed him from a brute to a man. But this was a single instance, and we may almost venture to write miracle upon it. Are there not numbers, in this degenerate age, whose lives thus run to utter waste, without the least tendency to usefulness?

LESSON CXXVI.

The young Minstrel.—BEATTIE.

Lo! where the stripling, rapt in wonder, roves
Beneath the precipice o'erhung with pine,
And sees, on high, amidst the encircling groves,
From cliff to cliff the foaming torrents shine :

While waters, woods, and winds, in concert join, And echo bears the chorus to the skies.

Would Edwin this majestic scene resign

For aught the huntsman's puny craft supplies? Ah! no he better knows great Nature's charms to prize.

And oft he traced the uplands, to survey,

When o'er the sky advanced the kindling dawn, The crimson cloud, blue main, and mountain gray, And lake, dim-gleaming on the smoky lawn: Far to the west, the long, long vale withdrawn, Where twilight loves to linger for a while;

And now he faintly kens the bounding fawn, And villager abroad at early toil.

But, lo! the Sun appears! and heaven, earth, ocean, smile.

And oft the craggy cliff he loved to climb,

:

When all in mist the world below was lost :What dreadful pleasure! there to stand sublime, Like shipwrecked mariner on desert coast, And see the enormous waste of vapor, tossed In billows lengthening to the horizon round,

Now scooped in gulfs, with mountains now embossed ;And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound,

Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound!

In truth, he was a strange and wayward wight,
Fond of each gentle, and each dreadful scene:
In darkness, and in storm, he took delight;

Nor less, than when on ocean-wave serene
The southern sun diffused his dazzling sheen.
Even sad vicissitude amused his soul:

And if a sigh would sometimes intervene, And down his cheek a tear of pity roll,

A sigh, a tear so sweet, he wished not to control.

ye wild groves, O, where is now your bloom!"
(The Muse interprets thus his tender thought)
"Your flowers, your verdure, and your balmy gloom,
Of late so grateful in the hour of drought!*
Why do the birds, that song and rapture brought
To all your bowers, their mansions now forsake?

Ah! why has fickle chance this ruin wrought?
For now the storm howls mournful through the brake,
And the dead foliage flies in many a shapeless flake.

*Pron. drout.

"Where now the rill, melodious, pure, and cool,

And meads, with life, and mirth, and beauty crowned? Ah! see, the unsightly slime, and sluggish pool Have all the solitary vale embrowned;

Fled each fair form, and mute each melting sound; The raven croaks forlorn on naked spray;

And hark! the river, bursting every mound, Down the vale thunders, and with wasteful sway Uproots the grove, and rolls the shattered rocks away.

"Yet such the destiny of all on earth;

So flourishes and fades majestic man.
Fair is the bud his vernal morn brings forth,
And fostering gales awhile the nursling fan.
O smile, ye heavens, serene; ye mildews wan,*
Ye blighting whirlwinds spare his balmy prime,
Nor lessen of his life the little span.

Borne on the swift and silent wings of Time
Old
age comes on apace to ravage all the clime.

"And be it so.-Let those deplore their doom Whose hopes still grovel in this dark sojourn : But lofty souls, who look beyond the tomb,

Can smile at Fate, and wonder how they mourn. Shall Spring to these sad scenes no more return? Is yonder wave the sun's eternal bed?

Soon shall the orient with new lustre burn, And Spring shall soon her vital influence shed, Again attune the grove, again adorn the mead.

"Shall I be left forgotten, in the dust,

When Fate, relenting, lets the flower revive?
Shall Nature's voice, to man alone unjust,

Bid him, though doomed to perish, hope to live?
Is it for this fair Virtue oft must strive

With disappointment, penury, and pain?

No: Heaven's immortal spring shall yet arrive,
And man's majestic beauty bloom again,

Bright thro' the eternal year of love's triumphant reign."

*Though the author evidently intends this word to rhyme with man and span, yet the best authorities require it to be pronounced like the first syllable of wan-ton.

LESSON CXXVII.

Pairing time anticipated.-CowPer.

I SHALL not ask Jean Jaques Rousseau*
If birds confabulate or no ;

'Tis clear that they were always able
To hold discourse, at least in fable;
And even the child who knows no better,
Than to interpret by the letter,
The story of a cock and bull,
Must have a most uncommon skull.

It chanced, then, on a winter's day,
But warm and bright and calm as May,
The birds, conceiving a design,
To forestall sweet St. Valentine,
In many an orchard, copse, and grove,
Assembled on affairs of love,

And, with much twitter, and much chatter,
Began to agitate the matter.

At length a bulfinch who could boast
More years and wisdom than the most,
Entreated, opening wide his beak,
A moment's liberty to speak;
And, silence publicly enjoined,
Delivered briefly thus his mind.

My friends! be cautious how ye treat
The subject upon which we meet;

I fear we shall have winter yet.'

A finch, whose tongue knew no control,
With golden wings and satin pōll,
A last year's bird, who ne'er had tried
What marriage means, thus pert replied.

66

"Methinks the gentleman," quoth she,
Opposite in the apple-tree,

By his good will would keep us single

Till yonder heaven and earth shall mingle,

*It was one of the whimsical speculations of this philosopher, that all fables, which ascribe reason and speech to animals, should be withne.d from children, as being only vehicles of deception. But what child was ver deceived by them, or can be, against the evidence of his own senses?