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9 "Tis pity of him, too,” he cried ;

“ Bold can he speak, and fairly ride;
I warrant him a warrior tried.”—
With this his mandate he recalls,
And slowly seeks his castle halls.

Advice to a Son going to travel.

Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportioned thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar :
The friends thou hast; and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel;
But do not dull thy palm* with entertainment
Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade.-Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in
Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee.
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice;
Take each man's censure,t but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habits as thy purse can buy ;
But not expressed in fancy-rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be:
For loan ost loses both itself and friend ;
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.I
This above all,-To thine own self be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.-Shaks.


On the Resurrection.—HARDIE. 1 Twice had the sun gone down upon the earth, and all as yet was sileni at the sepulchre. Death held his sceptre over the Son of God. Still and silent, the hours passed on—the guards stood at their post-the rays of the midnight moon gleamed on their helmets and on their spears. The

* Palm of the hand.

+ Opinion.


enemies of Christ exulted in their success, the hearts of his friends were sunk in despondency, the spirits of glory waited in anxious suspense to behold the event, and wondered at the depth of the ways of God. At length, the morning star, arising in the east, announced the approachi 2 of light. The third day began to dawn upon the world, when on a sudden, the earth trembled to its ceňtre, and the powers of heaven were shaken ; an angel of God descended, the guards shrunk back from the terror of his presence and fell prostrate on the ground. "His countenance was like lightning and his raiment white as snow." He rolled away the stone from the door of the sepulchre and sat upon it. But who is this that cometh forth from the tomb, with dyed garments from the bed of death ? He that is glorious in his appearance, walking in the greatness 3 of his strength ? It is thy prince, O, Zion! Christian, it

is your Lord! He hath trodden the wine-pres3 alonc, he hath stained his raiment with blood; but now, as the firstborn from the womb of nature, he meets the morning of his resurrection. He rises a conqueror from the grave, he returns with blessings from the world of spirits, he brings salvation to the sons of, men. Never did the returning sun usher in a day so glorious. ' It was the jubilee of the universe. The morning stars sarig together, and

all the sons of God shouted aloud for joy. The Father of 4 mercies looked down from his throne in the heavens; with

complacency he beheld his world restored, he saw his work that it was good. Then did the desert rejoice, the face of nature was gladdened before him, when the blessings of the Eternal descended as the dews of heaven, for the refreshing of the nations.

From a Monody on a Friend of the Author, Drowned in the

Irish Sea. .. .in
WEEP no more, woful shepherds, weep no more ;
For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead;
Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor;.
So sinks the day-star in the ocean-bed; :

And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
. And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore
· Flames in the forehead of the morning sky :

So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,
Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves,
Where other groves and other streams along,
With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,
And hears the unexpressive nuptial song,
In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love.
There entertain him all the saints above,
In solemn troops and sweet societies,
That sing, and, singing, in their glory move,
And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.Milton...

LESSON LVI. Virtue and Piety Man's Highest Interest.—Harris. 1 I FIND myself existing upon a little spot, surrounded

every way by an immense, unknown expansion. Where am I ? What sort of place do I inhabit ? Is it exactly accommodated in every instance to my convenience? Is there no excess of cold, none of heat, to offend me? Am I never annoyed by animals, either of my own, or a different kind ? Is every thing subservient to me, as though I had , ordered all myself? No-nothing like it the farthest · from it possible. The world appears not, then, originally

made for the private convenience of me alone ?-It does 2 not. But is it not possible so to accommodate it, by my

own particular industry? If to accommodate man and beast, heaven and earth-if this be beyond me, it is not possible. What consequence then follows; or can there be any other than this? If I seek an interest of my own, detached from that of others, I seek an interest which is chimerical, and which can never have existence.

How, then, must I determine ? Have I no interest at all? If I have not, I am stationed here to no purpose. But why no interest ? Can I be contented with none but 3 one, sepatate and detached ? Is a social interest, joined

with others, such an absurdity as not to be admitted ? The • bee, the beaver, and the tribes of herding animals, are suf

ficient to.convince me, that the thing is somewhere at least possible. How, then, am I assured that it is not equally true of man? Admit it, and what follows? If so, then

honor and justice are my interest; then the whole train of moral virtues are my interest; without some portion of which, not even thieves can maintain society.

But, farther still—I stop not here, I pursue this social 4 interest as far as I can trace my several relations. I pass ** from my own stock, my own neighborhood, my own na

tion, to the whole race of mankind, as dispersed throughout the earth. Ain I not related to them all, by the mutual aids of commerce, by the general intercourse of arts and letters, by that common nature of which we all participate ?

Again-I must have food and clothing. Without a proper genial warınth, I instantly perish. Am I not related, i in this view, to the very earth" itself ? to the distant sun, . 5 from whose beams I derive vigor ? to that stupendous course

and order of the infinite host of heaven, by which the times

and seasons ever uniformly pass on ? Were this order once : confounded, I could not probably survive a moment; so abso

lutely do I depend on this common general welfare. What, then, have I to do, but to enlarge virtue into piety? Not only honor and justice, and what I owe to man, are my in. terest, but gratitude also; acquiescence, resignation, adoration, and all I owe to this great polity, and its great Gov'ernor, our common Parent. . .

All men pursue good, and would be happy, if they knew how : not happy for minutes, and miserable for hours"; but happy, if possible, through every part of their existence. Either, therefore, there is a good of this steady, durable. kind, or there is not. If not, then all good, must be transient, and uncertain ; and if so, an object of the lowest value, which can little deserve our attention or inquiry.

But if there be a better good, such a good as we are seeking, like every other thing, it must be derived from some cause; and that cause must either be external, internal, or mixed; inasmuch as, except these three, there is no other possible. Now a steady, durable good, cannot be derived from an external cause; since all derived from externals must fluctuate as they fluctuate. By the 'şamė rule; it cannot be derived from a mixture of the two"; because the part which is external will proportionably destroy its

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essence. What then remains but the cause internal-the very cause which we have supposed, when we place the sovereign good in mind, in rectitude of conduct.--Harris.

LESSON LVII. Disrespect to Parents is in no case allowable.PERCIVAL.. 1 LEANDER, the eldest son of Socrates, fell into a violent passion with his mother. Socrates was witness to this shameful misbehavior, and attempted the correction of it, in the following gentle and rational manner.

“Come hither, son," said he ; " have you never heard of men, who are called ungrateful ?” “Yes, frequently,” answered the youth. “And what is ingratitude ?" demanded Socrates. “ It is to receive a kindness," said Leandem " without making a proper return, when there is a favor

able opportunity." " Ingratitude is, therefore, a species 2 of injustice," said Socrates. "I should think so,” an

swered Leander. “If, then,” pursued Socrates, “ingratitude be injustice, does it not follow, that the degree of it must be proportionate to the magnitude of the favors which have been received ?” Leander admitted the in.. lerence; and Socrates thus pursued his interrogations. * Can there subsist higher obligations than those which children owe to their parents ; from whom life is derived and supported, and by whose good offices it is rendered

honorable, useful, and happy ?” “I acknowledge the truth 3 of what you say,” replied Leander ; “but who could suffer, without resentment, the ill-humors of such a mother as I have ?”, “What strange thing has she done to you ?” said Socrates. « She has a tongue,” replied Leander, “ that no mortal can bear.” “ How much more,” said Socrates, “ has she endured from your wrangling, fretfulness, and incessant cries, in the period of infancy! What anxieties has she suffered from the levities, capriciousness, and follies, of your childhood and youth! What affliction has

she felt, what toil and watching has she sustained, in your 4 illnesses! These, and various other powerful motives to

filial duty and gratitude, have been recognised by the legislators of our republic. For, if any one be disrespectful to

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