his paws upon the meat, and grumbling and barking, he audaciously flew in the face of the lion. But the generous creature, instead of being offended with his im'potent companion, Et started back, and seemed terrified at the fury of his attack, neither attempted to eat a bit till his favorite had tacitly given permission.

8. When they were both gorged, the lion stretched and turned himself, and lay down in an evident posture for repose; but this his sportive companion would not admit. He frisked and gambolled about him, barked at him, would now scrape and tear at his head with his claws, and again seize him by the ear and bite and pull away; while the noble beast appeared affected by no other sentiment save that of pleasure and complācence. But let us proceed to the trăgic catastrophë of this extraordinary El story; a story still known to many, as delivered down by tradition from father to son.

9. In about twelve months the little spaniel sickened and died, and left his loving patron the most desolate of creatures. For a time the lion did not appear to conceive otherwise than that his favorite was asleep. He would continue to smell of him, and then would stir him with his nose, and turn him over with his paw ; but, finding that all his efforts to awake him were vain, he would traverse his cage from end to end at a swift and uneasy pace, then stop and look down upon him with a fixed and drooping regard ; and again” lift his head on high, and open his horrible throat, and prolong a roar, as of distant thunder, for several minutes together.

10. They attempted, but in vain, to convey the carcass from him ; he watched it perpetually, and would suffer nothing to touch it. The keeper then endeavored to tempt him with vari. ety of victuals, but he turned with loathing from all that was offered. They then put several living dogs into his cage, and these he instantly tore piecemeal, but left their memberski on the floor. His passion being thus inflamed, he would dart his fangs into the board, and pluck away large splinters, and again grapple at the bars of his cage, and seem enraged at his restraint from tearing the world to pieces.

11. Again, as quite spent, he would stretch himself by the remains of his beloved associate, and gather him in with his paws, and put him to his bosom ; and then utter under-roars of such terrible melancholy as seemed to threaten all around, for the loss of his little playfellow, the only friend, the only companion, that he had upon earth.

HENRY BROOKE.

LVIII. — TIIE IMPRISONMENT OF BONNIVARD.
1. FAILING in his enterprise for the liberation of Geneva, ki
Bonnìvardei was, transported to the castle of Chillon, El where a
dreadful captivity awaited him. Bound by the middle of his
body to a chain, the other end of which was attached to an
iron ring in a pillar," he remained in this condition six years,
free to move the length Ōnly of his chain, and able to recline
only where103 it allowed him to extend himself.

2. The pavement was hollowed by his measured tread; but

the thought that his captivity would perhaps avail nothing for fido

the enfran'chisement of his country, and that Geneva and he
were doomed to perpetual fetters, must have been more wearing
to his mind121 than his steps to the stone.

“ Chillon ! thy prison is a holy place,

And thy sad floor an altar ; for 't was trod,
Until his very steps have left a trace,

Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod,
By Bonnivard! - May none those marks efface !

For they appeal from tyranny to God.”
3. How happened it, in this long night, which no day broke
in upon, and where the silence was disturbed by no sound save
that of the waves of the lake dashing against the walls of his
dungeon, - how happened it that the mind did not overpower
the body, or the body the mind ? Why was it that the jailer,
on going his rounds some morning, did not find his prisoner
either dead or mad? One besetting one eternal ideä, — was
it not enough to break the heart, or paralyze the brain ?

4. And, during this time, — during these six years, during this,
eternity, — not a cry, not a murmur, as his jailers testificil,
escaped from the prisoner; although, without doubt, when the
tempest was unloosed, — when the gale tore up the waves, when
the rain and the blast lashed the walls, — he too had his utter-
ance ; for then his voice might be lost in the great voice of
nature; for then God only could distinguish his crics and sobs,
and, the next day, his jailers, who had not feasted on his despair,

would find him calm and resigned, -the tempest in his heart 1€¢ ** subduedo and hushed, like that in the sky.

5. Ah! without that — without that would he not have dashed his brains out against the pillar to which he was chained?, me Could he have awaited that day when his countrymen simultae nëously burst into his prison to rescue and to honor him ? A hundred voices then exclaimed, “ Bonnivard, thou art free!” “Aud Geneva ?” " Is also free!” ORIGINAL TRANSLATION.

LIX.—THE LAUNCH OF THE SHIP.

1. Then the master,

With a gesture of command,
Waved his hand ;
And at the word,
Loud and sudden there was heard,
All around them and below,
The sound of hammers, blow on blow,
Knocking away the shoresel and spurs.
And see! she stirs !
She starts, — she moves, – she seems to feel
The thrill of life along her keel,
And, spurning with her foot the ground,
With one exulting, joyous bound,
She leaps into the ocean's arms !

2. And, lo! from the assembled crowd

There rose a shout, prolonged and loud,
That to the ocean seemed to say,
6. Take her, O bridegroom, old and gray,
Take her to thy protecting arms,
With all her youth and all her charms!”

3. How beautiful97 she is! How fair

She lies within those arms, that press
Her form with many a soft caress
Of tenderness and watchful care!
Sail forth into the sea, O ship!
Through wind and wave, right onward steer!
The moistened eye, the trembling lip,
Are not the signs of doubt or fear.

4. Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State,

Sail on, O UNION, strong and great!
Humanity, with all its fears,
With all the hopes of future years,
Is hanging breathless on thy fate !
We know what master laid thy keel,
What workmen wrought thy ribs of steel,
Who made ach mast, and sail, and rope,
What anvils rang, what hammers beat,
In what a forge and what a heat
Were shaped the anchors of thy hope !

5. Fear not each sudden sound and shock,

'T is of the wave, and not the rock;

T is but the flapping of the sail,
And not a rent made by the galu!

In spite of rock and tempest’g100 roar,
In spite of false lights on the shore,
Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea !
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee.
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears,
Are all with thee, — are all with thee!

LONGFELLOW.

LX. — AFFECTATION.
1. Why, Affectation, why this mock grimace ?

Go, silly thing, and hide that sim pering face !
Thy lisping prattle, and thy mincing gait,
All thy false mimic fooleries, I hate;
For thou art Folly's counterfeit, and she
Who is right foolish hath the better plea;
Nature's true idiot I prefer to thee.

2. Why that soft languish? Why that drawling tone?

Art sick ? art sleepy? – Get29 thee hence, - begone !
I laugh at all those pretty baby tears,
Those flutterings, faintings, and unreäl fears.

3. Can they deceive us ? Can such mummeries move,

Touch us with pity, or inspire with love?
No, Affectation, vain is all thy art;
Those eyes may wander over every part,
They 'll never find their passage to the heart.

CUMBERLAND

LXI. -HISTORICAL CHARACTERS.

1. ALEXANDER SEVĒRUS. - Gibbon. ALEXANDERE rose early. The first moments of the day went consecrated to private devotion. But, as he deemed the service of mankinds the most acceptable worship of the gods, the greater part of his morning hours was employed in council, where he discussed public affairs, and detêrmined private causes, , with a patience and discretion above his years. The dryness of business was relieved by the charms of literature; and a portion of time was always set apart for his favorite studies of poetry, history, and philosophy.

The works of Virgil- and Horace, the republics of Plātos and Cicéro, formed his taste, enlarged his understanding, and gave him the noblest ideas of man and of governnient. The ex

ercises of the body succeeded to those of the mind; and Alexander, who was tall, active, and robust, Stutpassed most of his equals in the gymnasticEl arts. Refreshed by the use of his bath, and a slight dinner, he resulnea, es with new vigor, the business of the day; and till the hour or supper, the principal meal of the Romans,—- he was attended by his secretaries, with whom he read and angwered the multitude of letters, memorials, and petitions, that must have been addressed to the master of the greatest part of the world.

economiiol His table was served with the most frugal simplicity; and whenever he was at liberty to consult his own inclination, the company consisted of a few select friends, — men of learning and virtue. His dress was plain and modest; his demeanor, courteous:9 and affable. At the proper hours, his palace was open to all his subjects; but the voice of a crier was heard, as in the Eleusinianmysteries, pronouncing the same sarutalf admonition, “ Let none enter these holy walls, unless he is conscious of a puro and innocent mind.”

2. QUEEN ELIZABETH. — Hume. There are few great personages in history who have been more exposed to the calumny of enemies, and the adulation by friends, than Queen Elizabeth ; El and yet there scarcely is any whose t

reputation has been more certainly determined by the uiranimous agus consent of posterity. The unusual length of her administration,

and the strong features of her character, „were able to overcome

all prejudices; and, obliging her detractors to abate much of their de mvectives, and her admirers somewhat of their panëgyr'ics, ELI

have, at last, in spite of political factions, and, what is more, of religious animosities, produced a uníform judgment with regard to her conduct.

Few sovereigns of England succeeded to the throne in more difficult circumstances ;) and none ever conducted the government with such unifoņu suécess and felicity. Though unacquainted with the practice of toleration, the true secret for managing religious factions, she preseryed her people, by her superior prudence, from those confusions in which theological controversy had involved all the neighboring nations; and though her enemies were the most powerful princes of Europe, -the most active, the most enterprising, the least scrupulous, she was able, by her vigor, to make deep impressions on their states. Her own greatness, meanwhile, remained uñimpaired.

The wise ministers and brave warriorsło who flourished under ker reign share the praise of her success; but, instead of lessen