ed parents', too well informed' to follow the advice of his friends', and by far too polite to practice the vulgar duties of his situation. He is now spending his days in idleness', as low in the estimation of others' as he is high in his own. If you wish to be a good man', a great man', a wise man', or a clever man', you must begin while you are a boy`, or you will never begin at all. Be attentive to your manners. Those are the best manners which raise you in the opinion of others', without sinking you in your own. A poor widow once fell down and sprained her anklé, so that she could not walk', and a crowd soon gathered around her. One polite person pitied her'; another promised to make her case known'; when a plain, modest-looking man stepped forward', paid for a coach to carry her to her habitation', slipped a piece of money into her hand', and disappeared. One kind act done with simplicity is worth a thousand fine speeches. If you wish for riches', the carvings and gildings of the rich man's monument are disfigured with cobwebs', and moldering away. If renown be the object of your ambition', the most distinguished men lie in stone', unnoticed', and their achievements are covered with the dust of death. If, then, youth, manhood, and age' must die'-if riches, and honors, and worldly possessions must perish forever', how can you reflect on death without pain', and apprehension', and terror'? The young and the old', the rich and the poor, the wise man and the fool', the brave man and the coward', all shrink from death', because it takes away all which they possess. He alone who has hopes beyond the gravé can reflect on death with composurè, with peacé, and with joy. The Ptolemies, who had temples erected to their memory'-the Cæsars and Alexanders, whose fame has been spread in the earth', would, in the hour of death', have given all their conquests, their riches, and their renown', for the hope of the poor man', whose soul magnifies the Lord', and whose spirit rejoices in God his Savior. LESSON XXXVII. CHILDREN AT PLAY. Up in the morning, 66 as soon as the lark'," Late in the evening when falleth the dark', I am an old man, and my hair is grey', But I sit in the sunshine to watch you at play'; Ay, sport ye and wrestle-be glad as the sun', And lie down to rest when your pastime is done'; For your dreams are of sunshine', of blossom and dew', And the "God of the blessed" doth watch over you', While the angels of heaven are missioned to keep', Unbroken', the calm of your innocent sleep'; And an old man's blessing doth over you dwell', The whole day long`;—and so, fare ye well. LESSON XXXVIII. THE WORM AND THE SNAIL. A FABLE. A LITTLE Worm too close that played However, when the shock was past', In what, in man', is called the brain. And wary antlers of a snail', Which some young rogué, (we beg his pardon,) The snail, all shattered and infirm', "Good!" says the worm, "the bargain's struck'; I take it, and admire my luck': That shell, from which you'd fain be free, Is just the very thing for me. Oft have I wished, when danger calls, Yes', neighbor snail', I'll hire the room, Off went the snail in houseless plight'; Down went the snail', whose last lament Mourned his deserted tenement. Mean time, the worm had spent his strength In vain attempts to curl his length His small apartment's space about'; And 'twould be vastly strange', he said`, The unknown weight of household cares'; Now broke the dawn'; and soon with fear, Feeling the shock of footsteps near', He tried to reach that wished for goal', Which proved, when danger threatened sore', But failed him now this last resort': His new appendage stopt him short`: Oh then', poor worm'! what words can say Thus says the fable': learn from hence, It argues want of common sense', To think our trials, and our labors, Harder and heavier than our neighbors': Or that 'twould lighten toils and cares', To give them ours' in change for theirs'; For whether man's appointed lot Be really equalized or not', (A point we need not now discuss',) Habit' makes ours the best to us. LESSON XXXIX. THE SILK-WORM. THERE is no form, upon our earth', I saw a fair young girl-her face Was sweet as dream of cherish'd friend'Just at the age when childhood's grace' And maiden softness blend. |