ains, and murmuring with waterfalls. Here Obidah paused for a time, and began to consider whether it were longer safe to forsake the known and common track; but remembering that the heat was now in its greatest violence, and that the plain was dusty and uneven, he resolved to pursue the new path, which he supposed only to make a few meanders,' in compliance with the varieties of the ground, and to end at last in the common road. 4. Having thus calmed his solicitude,' he renewed his pace, though he suspected he was not gaining ground. This uncasiness of his mind inclined him to lay hold on every new object, and give way to every sensation that might soothe or divert him. He listened to every echo, he mounted every hill for a fresh prospect, he turned aside to every cascade, and pleased himself with tracing the course of a gentle river, that rolled among the trees, and watered a large region, with innumerable circumvolutions. In these amusements the hours passed away unaccounted, his deviations had perplexed his memory, and he knew not toward what point to travel. He stood pensive and confused, afraid to go forward, lest he should go wrong, yet conscious that the time of loitering was now past. 5. While he was thus tortured with uncertainty, the sky was overspread with clouds, the day vanished from before him, and a sudden tempest gathered round his head. He was now roused by his danger to a quick and painful remembrance of his folly; he now saw how happiness was lost when ease is consulted; he lamented the unmanly impatience that prompted him to seek shelter in the grove, and despised the petty curiosity that led him on from trifle to trifle. While he was thus reflecting, the air grew blacker, and a clap of thunder broke his meditation. 6. He now resolved to do what remained yet in his power, to tread back the ground which he had passed, and try to find some issue, where the wood might open into the plain. He prostrated himself upon the ground, and commended his life to the Lord of nature. He rose with confidence and tranquillity, 3 1 Me ån' ders, turnings.-2 So lic' i tùde, anxiety; uneasiness of mind.-— Cas cade', waterfall.- Cir cum vo lù' tion, a turning or rolling round.— 'De vi à' tion, going out of the way; wandering.—o Pên' sive, seriously reflecting; sad and thoughtful. and pressed on with his saber in his hand; for the beasts of the desert were in motion, and on every hand were heard the mingled howls of rage and fear, and ravage and expiration :' all the horrors of darkness and solitude surrounded him;—the winds roared in the woods, and the torrents tumbled from the hills. 7. Thus forlorn and distressed, he wandered through the wild, without knowing whither he was going, or whether he was every moment drawing nearer to safety or to destruction. At length, not fear but labor began to overcome him; his breath grew short, and his knees trembled, and he was on the point of lying down, in resignation to his fate, when he beheld, through the brambles, the glimmer of a taper. He advanced toward the light, and finding that it proceeded from the cottage of a hermit, he called humbly at the door, and obtained admission. The old man set before him such provisions as he had collected for himself, on which Obidah fed with eagerness and gratitude. 8. When the repast was over, "Tell me," said the hermit, "by what chance thou hast been brought hither; I have been now twenty years an inhabitant of the wilderness, in which I never saw a man before." Obidah then related the occurrences of his journey, without any concealment or palliation.' 9. "Son," said the hermit, "let the errors and follies, the dangers and escapes of this day, sink deep into thy heart. Remember, my son, that human life is the journey of a day. We rise in the morning of youth, full of vigor, and full of expectation; we set forward with spirit and hope, with gayety and with diligence, and travel on awhile in the straight road of piety, toward the mansions of rest. In a short time we remit our fervor, and endeavor to find some mitigation of our duty, and some more easy means of obtaining the same end. We then relax our vigor, and resolve no longer to be terrified with crimes at a dis tance, but rely upon our own constancy, and venture to approach what we resolve never to touch. 10. "We thus enter the bowers of ease, and repose in the shades of security. Here the heart softens, and vigilances sub Ex pi rà' tion, act of breathing out; death.-2 Tà' per, a small wax candle or light.- Pal li à' tion, excuse. Mit i gå' tion, softening; making easier or milder.- Vig' i lance, watchfulness. 5 sides; we are then willing to inquire whether another advance can not be made, and whether we may not, at least, turn our eyes upon the gardens of pleasure. We approach them with scruple and hesitation; we enter them, but enter timorous and trembling, and always hope to pass through them without losing the road of virtue, which we for awhile keep in our sight, and to which we propose to return. But temptation succeeds temptation, and one compliance prepares us for another; we in time iose the happiness of innocence, and solace' our disquiet with sensual' gratifications. 11. "By degrees we let fall the remembrance of our original intention, and quit the only adequate' object of rational desire. We entangle ourselves in business, immerge ourselves in luxury, and rove through the labyrinths of inconstancy, till the darkness of old age begins to invade us, and disease and anxiety obstruct our way. We then look back upon our lives with horror, with sorrow, with repentance; and wish, but too often vainly wish, that we had not forsaken the ways of virtue. 12. "Happy are they, my son, who shall learn from thy example not to despair, but shall remember, that though the day is past, and their strength is wasted, there yet remains one effort to be made; that reformation is never hopeless, nor sincere endeavors ever unassisted; that the wanderer may at length return, after all his errors; and that he who implores strength and courage from above, shall find danger and difficulty give way before him. Go now, my son, to thy repose; commit thyself to the care of Omnipotence; and when the morning calls again to toil, begin anew thy journey and thy life." DR. JOHNSON. 81. INDIAN SUMMER IN NEW ENGLAND. [T is now the early advance of autumn. What can be more season in England The sultry heat of summer has passed away, and a delicious 'Sub sides', settles down; rests; ceases.-2 Sol' ace, console; comfort. Sensual (sen' shu al), lewd; pleasing to the senses. — Ad'equate, worthy; equal.—3 Låb' y rinths, places full of windings. In con'stan cy, unsteadiness. Om nip' o tence, almighty power; God. coolness at evening succeeds the genial' warmth of the day. The labors of the husbandman approach their natural termination, and he gladdens with the near prospect of his promised reward. 4 2. The earth swells with the increase of vegetation. The fields wave with their yellow and luxuriant3 harvests. The trees put forth the darkest foliage, half shading and half revealing their ripened fruits, to tempt the appetite of man, and proclaim the goodness of his Creator. Even in scenes of another sort, where Nature reigns alone in her own majesty, there is much to awaken religious enthusiasm." 3. As yet, the forests stand clothed in their dress of undecayed magnificence. The winds, that rustle through their tops, scarcely disturb the silence of the shades below. The mountains and the valleys glow in warm green, of lively russet.' The rivulets flow on with a noiseless current, reflecting back the images of many a glossy insect, that dips his wings in their cooling waters. The mornings and evenings are still vocals with the notes of a thousand warblers, that plume' their wings for a later flight. 4. Above all, the clear blue sky, the long and sunny calms, the scarcely whispering breezes, the brilliant sunsets, lit up with all the wondrous magnificence of light, and shade, and color, and slowly settling down into a pure and transparent" twilight. These, these are days and scenes which even the cold can not behold without emotion, but on which the meditative" and pious gaze with profound admiration; for they breathe of holier and happier regions beyond the grave. 6 JOSEPH STORY. 'Gẻ' ni al, contributing to production; gay; merry; enlivening."Term in a' tion, a coming to an end; result.-3 Luxuriant (lug zu' reant), exuberant in growth; very abundant.- Fo' li age, leaves of trees; a cluster of leaves.- Enthusiasm (en thu' ze azm), an ardent or burning zeal with regard to some object or pursuit.- Mag nif' i cence, grandeur of appearance; display.—' Růs' set, a reddish brown color.* Vo' cal, having a voice; uttering sounds.- Plùme, dress the feathers. 10 Trans pår' ent, clear, so as to be seen through.-"Med' i ta tive, given to meditation; thoughtful. 82. A PARENTAL ODE TO MY INFANT SON. 1. HOU happy, happy elf!' 2. 3. THOU (But stop-first let me kiss away that tear)— (My love, he's poking peas into his ear) Thou měrry, laughing sprite!' with spirits feather light, (Good heavens! the child is swallowing a pin!)—— Thou little tricksy Puck," With antic toys so funnily bestuck, Light as the singing bird that wings the air, (Why, Jane, he'll set his pinafore afire!) Thou imp of mirth and joy! In love's dear chain so strong and bright a link, There goes my ink!) Thou cherub-but of earth! Fit playfellow for fays by moonlight pale, (The dog will bite him if he pulls its tail!) (He'll break the mirror' with that skipping-rope!) (Where did he learn that squint?) 8 Sprite, 'Elf, a fairy; a fancied wandering spirit.-2 TI' ny, small. spirit.— Půck, Robin Good-Fellow, and Friar Rush, were names applied many years ago to a mischievous little fairy, or wanderer of the night. Shakspeare, in the "Midsummer Night's Dream," has beautifully depicted his character and attributes.- Fåys, fairies.- Elysium (e llz' e um), a place of delight, as the ancients believed, for happy souls after death; any delightful place. Mir' ror, looking-glass.- Mint, a place where money is coined. 6 |