And frustrate all the rest!

Believe it not :

The primal duties shine aloft-like stars;

The charities, that sooth, and heal, and bless,
Are scattered at the feet of man-like flowers.
The generous inclination, the just rule,

Kind wishes, and good actions, and pure thoughts -
No mystery is here; no special boon

For high and not for low, for proudly graced
And not for meek in heart. The smoke ascends
To heaven as lightly from the cottage hearth,
As from the haughty palace. He whose soul
Ponders its true equality, may walk

The fields of earth with gratitude and hope;
Yet, in that meditation, will he find

Motive to sadder grief, when his thoughts turn
From nature's justice to the social wrongs
That make such difference betwixt man and man.
Oh for the coming of that glorious time
When, prizing knowledge as her noblest wealth,
And best protection, this imperial realm*
While she exacts allegiance, shall admit
An obligation on her part, to teach
Them who are born to serve her and obey;
Binding herself by statute to secure,

For all the children whom her soil maintains,
The rudiments of Letters, and to inform
The mind with moral and religious truth,
Both understood and practised-so that none
However destitute, be left to droop,
By timely culture unsustained, or run
Into a wild disorder; or be forced

To drudge through weary life without the aid
Of intellectual implements and tools;
A savage horde among the civilized,
A servile band among the lordly free!

This right-as sacred, almost, as the right
To exist and be supplied with sustenance
And means of life, the lisping babe proclaims
To be inherent in him, by Heaven's will,
For the protection of his innocence;
And the rude boy who knits his angry brow,
And lifts his wilful hand on mischief bent,
Or turns the sacred faculty of speech

*The British empire.

To impious use-by process indirect,

Declares his due, while he makes known his need.
This sacred right is fruitlessly announced,
This universal plea in vain addressed,
То eyes and ears of parents, who themselves
Did, in the time of their necessity,

Urge it in vain; and, therefore, like a prayer
That from the humblest floor ascends to heaven,
It mounts to reach the State's parental ear;
Who if indeed she own a mother's heart,
And be not most unfeelingly devoid
Of gratitude to Providence, will grant
The unquestionable good.

The discipline of slavery is unknown
Amongst us, hence the more do we require
The discipline of virtue ;-order else
Cannot subsist, nor confidence, nor peace.
Thus, duties rising out of good possessed,
And prudent caution needful to avert
Impending evil, do alike require

That permanent provision should be made
For the whole people to be taught and trained :—
So shall licentiousness and black resolve
Be rooted out, and virtuous habits take
Their place; and genuine piety descend,
Like an inheritance, from age to age.

LESSON CLI.

An Evening in the Grave-yard.-AMERICAN WATCHMAK.

THE moon is up, the evening star

Shines lovely from its home of blue

The fox-howl's heard on the fell afar,

And the earth is robed in a sombre hue;

From the shores of light the beams come down,

On the river's breast, and cold grave stone.

The kindling fires o'er heaven so bright,
Look sweetly out from yon azure sea;
While the glittering pearls of the dewy night,
Seem trying to mimic their brilliancy;
Yet all those charms no joy can bring
To the dead, in the cold grave slumbering.

To numbers wild, yet sweet withal,

Should the harp be struck o'er the sleepy pillow; Soft as the murmuring, breezy fall,

Of sighing winds on the foamy billow; For who would disturb in their silent bed, The fancied dreams of the lowly dead?

Oh! is there one in this world can say,

That the soul exists not after death?
That the powers which illumine this mould of clay
Are but a puff of common breath?
Oh! come this night to the grave and see
The sleepy sloth of your destiny.

The night's soft voice, in breathings low,
Imparts a calm to the breast of the weeper-
The water's dash and murmuring flow

No more will sooth the ear of the sleeper,
Till he, who slept on Judah's plains,
Shall burst death's cold and icy chains.

I've seen the moon gild the mountain's brow;
I've watch'd the mist o'er the river stealing,
But ne'er did I feel in my breast till now,

So deep, so calm, and so holy a feeling: 'Tis soft as the thrill which memory throws Athwart the soul in the hour of repose.

Thou Father of all! in the worlds of light,
Fain would my spirit aspire to thee;
And thro' the scenes of this gentle night,
Behold the dawn of eternity:

For this is the path, which thou hast given,
The only path to the bliss of Heaven.

LESSON CLII.

A natural mirror.-WORDSWORTH.

BEHOLD, the shades of afternoon have fallen Upon this flowery slope; and see-beyondThe lake, though bright, is of a placid blue; As if preparing for the peace of evening. How temptingly the landscape shines !—The air

Breathes invitation; easy is the walk

To the lake's margin, where a boat lies moored
Beneath her sheltering tree.-

*

Forth we went,

And down the valley, on the streamlet's bank,
Pursued our way, a broken company,
Mute or conversing, single or in pairs.-
Thus having reached a bridge that overarched
The hasty rivulet, where it lay becalmed
In a deep pool, by happy chance we saw
A two-fold image; on the grassy bank
A snow-white ram, and, in the crystal flood,
Another and the same!-Most beautiful,
On the green turf, with his imperial front
Shaggy and bold, and wreathed horns superb,
The breathing creature stood; as beautiful
Beneath him showed his shadowy counterpart.
Each had his glowing mountains, each his sky,
And each seemed centre of his own fair world ;-
Antip'odēs unconscious of each other,

Yet, in partition, with their several spheres,
Blended in perfect stillness, to our sight!
Ah! what a pity were it to disperse,
Or to disturb so fair a spectacle ;
And yet a breath can do it.-

LESSON CLIII.

Burial places near Constantinople.-ANASTASIUS.

A DENSE and motionless cloud of stagnant vapors ever shrouds these dreary realms. From afar a chilling sensation informs the traveller that he approaches their dark and dismal precincts'; and as he enters them, an icy blast, rising from their inmost bosom, rushes forth to meet his breath, suddenly strikes his chest, and seems to oppose his progress. His very horse snuffs up the deadly effluvia with signs of manifest terror, and, exhaling a cold and clammy sweat, advances reluctantly over a hollow ground, which shakes as he treads it, and loudly re-echoes his slow and fearful step.

So long and so busily has time been at work to fill this chosen spot, so repeatedly has Constantinople poured into this ultimate receptacle almost its whole contents', that the capital of the living, spite of its immense population, scarce counts a single breathing inhabitant for every ten silent inmates of this city of the dead. Already do its fields of blooming sepulchres stretch far away on every side, across the brow of the hills and the bend of the valleys; already are the avenues which cross each other at every step in this domain of death so lengthened, that the weary stranger, from whatever point he comes, still finds before him many a dreary mile of road between marshalled tombs and mournful cypresses, ere he reaches his journey's seemingly receding end; and yet, every year does this common pătrimony of all the heirs to decay still exhibit a rapidly increasing size, a fresh and wider line of boundary, and a new belt of young plantations, growing up between new flowerbeds of graves.

As I hurried on through this awful repository, the pale far-stretching monumental ranges rose in sight, and again receded rapidly from my view in such unceasing succession, that at last I fancied some spell possessed my soul, some fascination kept locked my senses; and I therefore still increased my speed, as if only on quitting these melancholy abodes I could hope to shake off my waking delusion. Nor was it until, near the verge of the fune'real forest through which I had been pacing for a full hour, a brighter light again gleamed athwart the ghost-like trees, that I stopped to look round, and to take a more leisurely survey of the ground which I had traversed.

"There," said I to myself, "lie, scarce one foot beneath the surface of a swelling soil, ready to burst at every point with its festering contents', more than half the generations whom death has continued to mow down for near four centuries in the vast capital of Islamism. There lie, side by side, on the same level, in cells the size of their bodies, and only distinguished by a marble turban somewhat longer or deeper, somewhat rounder or squarer, personages in life far as heaven and earth asunder, in birth, in station, in gifts of nature, and in long-labored acquirements. There lie, sunk alike in their last sleep,-alike food for the worm that lives on death, the conqueror who filled the universe with his name, and the peasant scarce known in his own hamlet; Sultan Mahmoud, and Sultan Mahmoud's perhaps more de

* Pron. lê-zhur-ly.