The following description, extracted from the account of a voyage, gives a vivid idea of the awful grandeur and transcendent beauty of those vast islands of ice, which are sometimes encountered, in navigating the ocean in high latitudes.

A fresh breeze came sharply from the north, and so cold, that the sailors said it must be blowing from an iceberg. We saw nothing, although the moon was high; but, at midnight, one of the men descried a brightening along the northern horizon, which left no doubt of the fact.

'At last, the brightness began to assume outline and features; and the wind rose as piercingly and rude as December; while the enormous mountainous mass was evidently nearing. By its apparent extent, the captain conjectured that we should pass to the windward of it without difficulty; but as it came nearer and nearer, the feeling of danger mingled with the chillness of the wind; and we beheld, with awe and astonishment, many streams of beautiful water, leaping and tumbling from the cliffs and peaks, as it drifted towards us, in the morning sunshine.

'The wind, as the iceberg approached, slackened, and we saw, with the telescope, on a point that projected from the side, a huge white bear, reclining, which, the sailors said, was watching for fish.

'No sight could be more solemnly impressive than the evidently advancing mass: at last it came so near that we feared it would be impossible to escape. The vast peaks, cliffs, and pinnacles, were like a gorgeous city, with all its temples and palaces, shuddering as if shaken by an earthquake. The waters dashed from terrace to terrace; and every point and spire was glittering and gleaming with countless flames, kindled by the sunshine. Terror confounded every one on board.

'A huge mass, which projected far aloft, and almost already overhung the ship, was seen to tremble; and with a crash louder than thunder, it fell into the sea. The whole dreadful continent, for such it actually seemed, visibly shook. The

peaks and mountains were shattered with indescribable crashing; as, with a sound so mighty that it cannot be named, it sundered, as if several islands had separated; and we saw, through the dreadful chasm, a ship under full sail beyond, coasting the weather side. Still, the different masses floated in view; and, all day long, we had our eyes fixed upon them, as they appeared to recede; fearful that another variation of the wind would bring them again around us.'

EXERCISE XXX.

THE SWISS WANDERER.-Montgomery.

[Young readers need, usually, much practice on such pieces, to correct the tendency to excessive rhythmical accent. The expedient of writing the exercise on a slate, in the common form of successive lines of prose, cannot be too strongly urged, as an effectual remedy for the fault.]

In the twilight of my day,

I am hastening to the West;
There my weary limbs to lay,

Where the sun retires to rest.

Far beyond the Atlantic floods,
Stretched beneath the evening sky,
Realms of mountains, dark with woods,
In Columbia's bosom lie.

Thither, thither would I roam;

There my children may be free:
I for them will find a home,
They shall find a grave for me.

Though my father's bones afar
In their native land repose,
Yet beneath the twilight star
Soft on mine the turf shall close.

The effect of perpetual day, upon the feelings and occupations of men, is thus described in the narrative of Buchan's Expedition to the North Pole :

'Nothing made so deep an impression on our senses, as the change from alternate day and night, to which we had been habituated from our infancy, to the continued daylight to which we were. subjected as soon as we crossed the arctic

circle.

'Where the ground is but little trodden, even trifles are interesting; and I do not, therefore, hesitate to describe the

feelings with which we regarded this change. The novelty, it must be admitted, was very agreeable; and the advantage of constant daylight, in an unexplored and naturally boisterous sea, was too great to allow us even to wish for a return of the alternations above alluded to; but the reluctance we felt to leave the deck when the sun was shining bright upon our sails, and retire to our cabins to sleep, deprived us of many hours of necessary rest; and when we returned to the deck, to keep our night-watch, if it may be so called, and still found the sun gilding the sky, it seemed as if the day would never finish. What, therefore, first promised to be so gratifying, soon threatened to become extremely irksome; and would, indeed, have been a serious inconvenience, had we not followed the example of the feathered tribe, — which we daily observed winging their way to roost, with a clock-work regularity, and retired to our cabin at the proper hour; where, shutting out the rays of the sun, we obtained that repose which the exercise of our duties required.

'At first, it will no doubt appear to many persons that constant daylight must be a valuable acquisition in every country; but a little reflection will, I think, be sufficient to show that the reverse is really the case, and to satisfy a reflecting mind that we cannot overrate the blessings we derive from the wholesome alternation of labor and rest, which is, in a manner, forced upon us, by the succession of day and night. It is impossible, when removed to a high latitude, to witness the difficulty there is in the regulation of time, the proneness that is felt by the indefatigable and zealous to rivet themselves to their occupations, and by the indolent and procrastinating to postpone their duties, without being truly thankful for that allwise and merciful provision with which the Author of nature has endowed the more habitable portion of the globe.'

RULE FOR THE READING OF PIECES COMPOSED IN VARIED STYLE.

The change of voice, in passing from narrative or descriptive to didactic passages, as in the last paragraph of the preceding piece, should be marked by a firmer, deeper, and slower utterance, a more exact enunciation, and longer pauses, as required by the graver character of the thought,

EXERCISE XXXII.

WHALING. - Anon.

At daylight, as usual, our mast-head was manned; and at about seven o'clock, we heard the ery, 'There she blows!' All on deck listened to hear the cry repeated, that they might feel an assurance of a sperm whale being in sight. In a few moments the well-known cry was repeated, and reiterated a number of times. The officer on deck inquired, 'Where away?' 'Right ahead, sir,' was the reply. How far off?' 'About three miles; headed right athwart us: hump; it is an old soldier, sir.'

I can see his

Now a scene of bustle and confusion presents itself; some going aft, and others preparing the boats for the expected encounter. 'There goes flukes,' is heard from a dozen voices aloft; which implies that the whale has sounded. A large whale remains under water from forty minutes to an hour; but, when on the surface, and when not alarmed, spouts about once in every thirty seconds, and remains above; going at the rate of four miles to the hour, for ten or twenty minutes. "There she blows!' 'Where where?' asks the captain, in a hurried tone. 'About two miles off our lee beam, sir.' 'Haul up the mainsail; lay the topsail to the mast; down with your helm: let the ship come to the wind.' The helm is instantly put to lee. The ship comes up, dashing the spray majestically from her bows, until checked by the action of the wind against her mainsail. 'Is all ready for lowering?' asks the captain. AH ready,' is the reply.

After descending to the deck, the captain points out to the officers the direction in which the whale is going, and gives such orders as the case requires. The boats are lowered; the whale has sounded before the boats touch the water; and each one steers as judgment dictates, in regard to the supposed course of the whale. To-day, the captain's boat was within a short distance, when the whale made its appearance; and every nerve was strained to get alongside before it sounded. 'Pull, my good fellows; pull away!' was often repeated. 'Lay back, every man! A few more like this chap ahead, and we will bid adieu to the Pacific. Stretch hard, every one of you; a few more strokes, and she is ours; pull hard, I tell you,'