the evil spirits, of which we read, it overcomes him, and leads him whithersoever it will. He feels it beating at his heart, rising to his throat, and demanding disclosure. He thinks the whole world sees it in his face, reads it in his eyes, and almost hears its workings in the very silence of his thoughts. It has become his master.

15. It betrays his discretion, it breaks down his courage, it conquers his prudence. When suspicions from without begin to embarrass him, and the net of circumstance to entangle him, the fatal secret struggles with still greater violence to burst forth. It must be confessed, it will be confessed; there is no refuge from confession but suicide; and suicide is confession.

LESSON CIX

Try, Try Again.

'Tis a lesson you should heed,
Try, try again;

If at first you don't succeed,
Try, try again;

Then your courage should appear,
For, if you will persevere,
You will conquer, never fear;
Try, try again.

2. Once, or twice, though you should fail
Try, try again;

If you would, at last, prevail,
Try, try again;

If we strive, 'tis no disgrace,
Though we may not win the race;
What should you do in the case?
Try, try again.

3. If you find your task is hard,
Try, try again;

Time will bring you your reward;
Try, try again;

All that other folks can do,

Why, with patience, should not you?
Only keep this rule in view,

TRY, TRY AGAIN.

LESSON CX.

The Spider and the Fly.

1. "WILL you walk into my parlor?" said a spider to a fly; ""Tis the prettiest little parlor that you ever did espy.

The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,

And I have many pretty things to show you when you're there." "Oh, no, no!" said the little fly; "to ask me is in vain,

For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again. '

2. “I'm sure you must be weary with soaring up so high : Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the spider to the fly; "There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin;

And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in."

“Oh, no, no!" said the little fly, "I've often heard it said, They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!"

3. Said the cunning spider to the fly, "Dear friend, what shall I do To prove the warm affection I have always felt for you?

I have, within my pantry, good store of all that's nice

I'm sure you're very welcome, will you please to take a slice?" "Oh, no, no!" said the little fly, "kind sir, that cannot be;

I've heard what's in your pantry, and do not wish to see.'

4. "Sweet creature!" said the spider, "you're witty and you're wise; How handsome are your gauzy wings! how brilliant are your eyes! I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf;

If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."

"I thank you, gentle sir," said she, " for what you're pleased to say, And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."

5. The spider turned him round about, and went into his den, For well he knew the silly fly would soon come back again; So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner, sly,

And set his table ready to dine upon the fly;

Then went out to his door again, and merrily did he sing:
"Come hither, hither, pretty fly, with the pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple-there's a crest upon your head-
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead."

6. Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by!
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue;
Thinking only of her crested head-poor foolish thing! At last
Up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held her fast.
7. He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,
Within his little parlor-but she ne'er came out again!
-And now, my youthful learners, who may this story read,
To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed ;
Against an evil counsellor, close heart, and ear, and eye;
Take warning from the story of the Spider and the Fly.

LESSON CXI

The Midnight Mail.

1. 'Tis midnight,-all is peace profound!
But lo! upon the murmuring ground
The lonely, swelling, hurrying sound
Of distant wheels is heard!

They come, they pause a moment, when,
Their charge resigned, they start, and then
Are gone, and all is hushed again,
As not a leaf had stirred.

2. Hast thou a parent far away,
A beauteous child to be thy stay
In life's decline,-or sisters, they
Who shared thine infant glee?
A brother on a foreign shore,
Whose breast thy chosen token bore?
Or are thy treasures wandering o'er
A wide, tumultuous sea?

3. If aught like these, then thou must feel
The rattling of that reckless wheel,
That brings the bright or boding seal,
On every trembling thread,

That strings thy heart, till morn appears
To crown thy hopes, or end thy fears,
To light thy smile, or draw thy tears,
As line on line is read.

4. Perhaps thy treasure's in the deep,
Thy lover in a dreamless sleep,
Thy brother where thou canst not weep
Upon his distant grave!

Thy parent's hoary head no more
May shed a silver lustre o'er

His children grouped,- -nor death restore
Thy son from out the waves!

5. Thy prattler's tongue, perhaps, is stilled,
Thy sister's lip is pale and chilled,

Thy blooming bride perchance has filled
Her corner of the tomb.

Perhaps the home, where all thy sweet
And tender recollections meet,

Has shown its flaming winding-sheet
In midnight's awful gloom!

6. And while, alternate o'er my soul
Those cold or burning wheels will roll
Their chill or heat, beyond control,
Till morn shall bring relief,-
Father in heaven, whate'er may be
The cup which thou hast sent for me,
I know 'tis good, prepared by Thee,
Though filled with joy or grief'

LESSON CXII.

The Bucket.

1. How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood,
When fond recollection presents them to view!
The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood,
And every loved spot which my infancy knew;
The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it,
The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell;
The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it,

And e'en the rude bucket which hung in the well!
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,
The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.
2. That moss-covered vessel I hail as a treasure;

For often, at noon, when retuned from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure,

The purest and sweetest that nature can yield.
How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing,
And quick to the white pebbled bottom it fell;
Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing,
And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well;
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,
The moss-covered bucket, arose from the well.

3. How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it,
As poised on the curb it inclined to my lips!
Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it,
Though filled with the nectar the fabled god sips.

And now, far removed from the loved situation,
The tear of regret will intrusively swell,
As fancy reverts to my father's plantation,

And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well;
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,
The moss-covered bucket, which hangs in his well.

LESSON CXIII.

Filial Love; or, James the Errand-Man.

1. In Paris, there is an institution, called the Household Hospital, into which aged widows and widowers are admitted, on payment of about two hundred dollars each, which secures them a room, and meat, drink, clothing, firing, pocket-money to the amount of about one dollar and fifty cents a month, for the remainder of their days, and burial at their close. For a married couple, to obtain a double room, and set up a household apart, a further trifling gratuity is required; or rather, eighty of the best bed-rooms are thus appropriated, and the remaining eighty bestowed gratuitously on couples wholly destitute of resources.

2. Nothing can be neater or cleaner than the chambers allotted to either class, opening from an airy corridor, several hundred feet long, having, opposite to each door, its locker, for wood and charcoal. The service of the whole establishment is conducted by forty nuns, Sisters of Charity; and the exquisite and delicate neatness of their kitchens, laundry, and gallery of linen presses, does honor to their jurisdiction. Abundance of the most wholesome food, such as rice stewed in broth, meat, vegetables, and stewed fruit, are at all hours in preparation, in a kitchen which has the airiness and elegance of a varnished Dutch toy.

3. An English gentleman residing in Paris had frequently noticed the cheerfulness, the affectionate disposition, the untiring industry of James, the errand-man, who was occa sionally employed as drudge of all work at his hotel. Walking one day in the outskirts of the city, he observed James seated, side by side, with the driver of a small cart, loaded with a bed, two chairs, and a chest of drawers, and singing and laughing so heartily with his companion, that he immediately concluded, that these must be the little articles of furniture he had provided for his marriage with