minutes',) he was lying in his bed', with his head raised upon his hand', his elbow upon the pillow', and a clean white cambrick handkerchief beside it'. The youth was just stooping down to take up the cushion upon which I supposed he had been kneeling', the book was laid upon the bed', and', as he rose', in taking up the cushion with one hand', he reached out his other to take the book away at the same time'. Let it remain there', my dear', said the Lieutenant'.

He did not offer to speak to me', till I had walked up close to his bed-side': If you are Captain Shandy's servant', said he', you must present my thanks to your master', with my little boy's thanks along with them', for his courtesy to me':-if he was of Leven's'-said the Lieutenant'.-I told him your honour was—then', said he', I served three campaigns with him in Flanders', and remember him'; but it is most likely', as I had not the honour of any acquaintance with him', that he knows nothing of me'. You will tell him', however', that the person his good nature has laid under obligations to him', is one Le Fever', a Lieutenant in Angus's'-but he knows me not' -said he a second time', musing':-possibly he may my story' -added he'-pray tell the Captain', I was the Ensign at Breda', whose wife was most unfortunately killed with a musketshot', as she lay in my arms in my tent'.-I remember the story', an't please your honour', said I', very well'. Do you so'? said he', wiping his eyes with his handkerchief'—then well may I'.-In saying this', he drew a little ring out of his bosom', which seemed tied with a black riband about his neck', and kissed it twice'.-Here', Billy', said he'-the boy flew across the room to the bed-side', and falling down upon his knee', took the ring in his hand', and kissed it too', then kissed his father', and sat down upon the bed and wept.

I wish', said my uncle Toby', with a deep sigh'-I wish', Trim',... I was aslêêp'.

Your honour', replied the corporal', is too much concerned': Shall I pour your honour out a glass of sack to your pipe'? Dô', Trim', said my uncle Toby'.

I remember', said my uncle Toby', sighing again', the story of the ensign and his wife', and particularly well', that he', as well as she', upon some account or other', (I forget what',) was universally pitied by the whole regiment'; but finish the story'. 'Tis finished already', said the corporal', for I could stay no longer', so I wished his honour a good night'. Young Le Fever rose from off the bed', and saw me to the bottom of the stairs'; and as we went down together', told me they had come from

Ireland', and were on their route to join the regiment in Flanders'. But', alas'! said the corporal', the Lieutenant's last day's march is over. Then what is to become of his poor boy'? cried my uncle Toby'.

Thou hast left this matter short', said my uncle Toby to the corporal', as he was putting him to bed', and I will tell thee in whât', Trim'. In the first place', when thou madst an offer of my services to Le Fever', as sickness and travelling are both expensive', and thou knewest he was but a poor Lieutenant', with a son to subsist', as well as himself', out of his pay', that thou didst not make an offer to him of my purse'; because', had he stood in need', thou knowest', Trim', he had been as welcome to it as myself. Your honour knows', said the corporal', I had no ôrders'. Trûe', quoth my uncle Toby'; thou didst very right', Trim', as a sôLDIER', but', certainly', very wrong', as a Man'.

In the second place', for which', indeed', thou hast the same excuse', continued my uncle Toby', when thou offeredst him whatever was in my house', thou shouldst have offered him my house tôô'. A sick brother officer'.. should have the best quarters', Trim'; and if we had him with us', we could tend and look to him'. Thou art an excellent nurse thyself', Trim'; and what with thy care of him' and the old woman's', and his boy's', and mine together', we might recruit him again at once', and set him upon his legs'.

In a fortnight or three weeks', added my uncle Toby', smiling', he might march'. He will never march', an't please your honour', in this world', said the corporal'. He will march', said my uncle Toby', rising up from the side of the bed', with one shoe off. An't please your honour', said the corporal', he will never march'.. but to his grâve'. He SHALL march', cried my uncle Toby', marching the foot which had a shoe on', though without advancing an inch': he shall march to his regiment'. He cannot stand it', said the corporal'. He shall be supported', said my uncle Toby'. He'll drop at last', said the corporal', and what will become of his boy? He shall NOT drop', said my uncle Toby', firmly'. A well o'day'! do what we can for him', said Trim', maintaining his point': the poor soul will die'. He shall NOT die', by H- -n', cried my uncle Toby'..

The Accusing Spirit', which flew up to Heaven's chancery with the oath', blushed as he gave it in'; and the Recording Angel', as he wrote it down', dropped a tear upon the word', and blotted it out forever'.

My uncle Toby went to his bureau', put his purse into his pocket', and having ordered the corporal to go early in the morning for a physician', he went to bed and fell asleep'.

The sun looked bright the morning after', to every eye in the village but Le Fever's and his afflicted son's'; the hand of death pressed heavy upon his eyelids', and hardly could the wheel at the cistern turn round its circle', when my uncle Toby', who had got up an hour before his wonted time', entered the Lieutenant's room', and', without preface or apology', sat himself down upon the chair by the bed-side'; and independent of all modes and customs', opened the curtain', in the manner an old friend and brother officer would have done it', and asked him how he did-how he had rested in the night'-what was his complaint-where was his pain-and what he could do to help him? And without giving him time to answer any one of these inquiries', went on and told him of the little plan which he had been concerting for him', with the corporal', the night before'.

You shall go home directly', Le Fever', said my uncle Toby', to my house—and we'll send for a doctor to see what's the matter'-and we'll have an apothecary'-and the corporal shall be your nurse', and I'll be your servant', Le Fever'.

There was a frankness in my uncle Toby'-not the effect of familiarity', but the cause of it'-which let you at once into his soul', and showed you the goodness of his nature': to this', there was something in his looks', and voice', and manner', superadded', which always beckoned to the unfortunate to come and take shelter under him'; so that before my uncle Toby had half finished the kind offers he was making to the father', the son had insensibly pressed up close to his knees', and had taken hold of the breast of his coat', and was pulling it towards him'. The blood and spirit of Le Fever', which were waxing cold and slow within him', and were retreating to their last citadel', the heart', rallied back'-the film forsook his eyes for a moment'he looked up wistfully in my uncle Toby's face'-then cast a look upon his boy'.

Nature instantly ebbed again—the film returned to its place' -the pulse fluttered'-stopped'-went on-throbbed'—stopped again-moved'-stopped-shall I go on'?—No'.

29*

CIRCULAR.

LECTURING SEMINARY,

FOR YOUNG LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,

CONDUCTED BY

S. KIRKHAM AND H. WINCHESTER,

With the assistance of Miss CAROLINE WINCHESTER, and, also, Mr. JOHN L. CAREY, Teacher of Languages, at

No. 16, N. FREDERICK STREET, BALTIMORE.

THE building in which this School is conducted, (together with the advantage of an extensive and an elegant yard attached to it,) is sufficiently spacious to enable the Principals to accommodate YOUTH OF BOTH SEXES in separate and totally distinct apartments.

The management of this Institution, and the course of instruction adopted in it, are based upon the following

GENERAL MAXIMS.

1. Without ORDER, rapid improvement is impossible.

Government consists, not so much in a flourish of the rod, as in the exercise of moral influence, grounded in respect and esteem. Raise the ambition of a youth by rendering his studies agreeable and inviting, and by causing him to respect himself, and he is easily governed. "As far as light excelleth darkness," so doth kindness transcend severity, and encouragement, compulsion. "A gentle hand will lead even the elephant by a hair.” 2. To possess knowledge, is one thing: to communicate it to others, is a very different thing. Hence, accomplished scholars often make but indifferent teachers.

3. No one is able to communicate knowledge which he does not possess. Hence, for one to profess to instruct others in a branch of science which he does not understand himself, is gross empiricism.

4. Children and youth should be led along the path of knowledge, not driven.

5. Ideas must be obtained, before they can be treasured up. The understanding ought, therefore, to be addressed before the memory is exercised. It is more important to be made acquainted with things than with words. 6. Children are endowed with intellectual powers, which ought to be developed and brought into active exercise. Hence, to treat them as automatons, is both cruel and absurd. The mind requires intellectual food, as much as the body does physical aliment.

7. A youth is capable of learning but one thing at a time: therefore only one branch of learning should be presented to him as the main object of pursuit at any given period, although several other branches may be successfully prosecuted collaterally, at prescribed intervals, by way of variety and recreation.

8. Inasmuch as early impressions are the most durable, and exercise the most potent influence over one's conduct through life, the moral and

religious instruction of youth should, in no case, be neglected. They should never be allowed to forget, that they are endowed, not only with intellectual and physical powers, but, also, with an immortal spirit.

9. External accomplishments, or such as relate to a genteel and graceful deportment, though not so important as those of an intellectual character, are not unworthy to be ranked among the minor parts of a good education. Believing these principles to be of paramount importance in the instruction of youth, the Conductors of this Institution will be governed by their rigid observance.

PLAN.

The operations of this Institution will be conducted, as far as practicable, according to a REGULAR SYSTEM, (a particular description of which will be given at the Seminary.) Every science taught in it, will be unfolded by Oral Lectures. In these lectures, the principles of each respective science, will be thoroughly developed, and familiarly and critically explained, and followed up by an immediate, practical application, both by the lecturer and the pupil.

BRANCHES TAUGHT.

The leading object of this Institution is, to communicate to those who attend it, a THOROUGH, PRACTICAL knowledge of the substantial branches of a good English education—an object rarely accomplished in this day of fashionable learning.

PLAIN BRANCHES.

Among the foremost of these will be, ELOCUTION, (by which is here meant the science of Reading,) ENGLISH GRAMMAR, and RHETORICK, (including extensive exercises in verbal and general criticism,) GEOGRaphy, VULGAR ARITHMETICK, and PENMANSHIP.

MATHEMATICKS and HISTORY will also be taught; and, occasionally, Lectures will be delivered on NATURAL and MORAL PHILOSOPHY, and some branches of CHYMISTRY.

S. Kirkham is now delivering to the pupils of the Seminary, a Course of Lectures on ANCIENT HISTORY.

ELOCUTION.-Text-Book, S. Kirkham's "ESSAY ON ELOCUTION." To urge upon this community the importance of this science, would be considered, by many, like attempting to prove the correctness of the plainest, self-evident proposition; but when we reflect, that in our seminaries of learning, the study of elocution meets with greater neglect than any other of equal importance, and that the consequent ignorance of its principles, often betrayed by tutors and learned professors in the presence of their pupils, by students in their recitations and declamations, by publick speakers in the pulpit, at the bar, in publick assemblies, and in our legislative halls;-ignorance which, were it evinced by the same individuals, in any other equally important branch of learning, would inevitably expose them to the pity, if not to the contempt, of their auditory;-when we bring these facts into consideration, is it not clear, that every argument should be adduced, every honourable motive urged, and every passion addressed, which is calculated to awaken the attention of the young, and direct it to the momentous advantages resulting from the proper cultivation of this science? To say nothing of the arguments which might be drawn from the devotion of the ancients to this subject, there is one of sufficient weight nearer at hand, arising out of the mortification experien