FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS.

Then the forms of the departed
Enter at the open door;
The beloved, the true-hearted,
Come to visit me once more;

He, the young and strong, who cherished
Noble longings for the strife,
By the road-side fell and perished,
Weary with the march of life!

They, the holy ones and weakly,
Who the cross of suffering bore,
Folded their pale hands so meekly,
Spake with us on earth no more!

And with them the being beauteous,
Who unto my youth was given,
More than all things else to love me,
And is now a saint in heaven.

With a slow and noiseless footstep
Comes that messenger divine,
Takes the vacant chair beside me,
Lays her gentle hand in mine.

And she sits and gazes at me
With those deep and tender eyes,
Like the stars, so still and saint-like,
Looking downward from the skies.

Uttered not, yet comprehended,
Is the spirit's voiceless prayer,
Soft rebukes, in blessings ended,
Breathing from her lips of air.

O, though oft depressed and lonely,
All my fears are laid aside,
If I but remember only2

Such as these have lived and died!

1. What better soul?

219

LONGFELLOW.

2. Something tautological in this line?

IX. A NAME IN THE SAND.

"MAN that is born of a woman is of few days, and full of trouble. He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down: he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not. As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more." Psalm ciii. 15, 16.

ALONE I walked the ocean strand;
A pearly shell was in my hand :
I stooped and wrote upon the sand
My name--the year-the day.
As onward from the spot I passed,
One lingering look behind I cast;
A wave came rolling high and fast,
And washed my lines away.

And so, methought, 'twill shortly be
With every mark on earth from me ;
A wave of dark oblivion's sea

Will sweep across the place,
Where I have trod the sandy shore
Of time, and been to be no more,
Of me-my day-the name I bore,
To leave nor track, nor trace.

And yet, with Him who counts the sands
And holds the waters in his hands,
I know a lasting record stands,

Inscribed against my name,

Of all this mortal part has wrought;
Of all this thinking soul has thought;
And from their fleeting moments caught
For glory or for shame.

HANNAH F. GOULD.

X. THE LAST MINSTREL.

"SUFFICIENTLY provided for within, they (poets in the olden time) had need of little from without; the gift of imparting lofty emotions, and glorious images to men, in melodies and words that charmed the ear, and fixed themselves inseparably on whatever they might touch, of old enraptured the world, and served the gifted as a rich inheritance. At the courts of kings, at the tables of the great, under the windows of the fair, the sound of them was heard, while the ear and the soul were shut for all beside; and men felt, as we do when

THE LAST MINSTREL.

221

delight comes over us, and we pause with rapture if, among the dingles we are crossing, the voice of the nightingale starts out, touching and strong. They found a home in every habitation of the world, and the lowliness of their condition but exalted them the more. The hero listened to their songs, and the conqueror of the earth did reverence to a poet; for he felt that, without poets, his own wild and vast existence would pass away like a whirlwind, and be forgotten for ever."- Goethe's Wilhelm Meister.

THE way was long, the wind was cold,
The minstrel was infirm and old;
His withered cheek, and tresses' gray,
Seemed to have known a better day;
The harp, his sole remaining joy,
Was carried by an orphan boy;
The last of all the Bards was he,
Who sung of border chivalry.2
For, well-a-day! their date was fled,
His tuneful brethren all were dead;
And he, neglected and oppressed,
Wished to be with them and at rest.
No more on prancing palfrey borne,
He carolled, light as lark at morn;
No longer courted and caressed,
High placed in hall, a welcome guest,
He poured, to lord and lady gay,
The unpremeditated lay;

Old times were changed, old manners gone,
A stranger filled the Stuart's throne,3
The bigots of the iron time

Had called the harmless art a crime.
A wandering harper, scorned and poor,
He begged his bread from door to door,
And tuned, to please a peasant's ear,
The harp, a king had loved to hear.5

1. What are tresses?

2. What is meant by border chivalry? 3. Historical allusion?

SIR W. SCOTT.

4. Who are here referred to, and how far is the accusation just?

5. The ellipsis in this line?

XI. A COMPARISON.

"THE life of every individual may be compared to a river rising in obscurity, increasing by the accession of tributary streams, and, after flowing through a longer or shorter distance, losing itself in some common receptacle. The lives of individuals also, like the course of rivers, may be more or less extensive, but will all vanish and disap pear in the gulf of eternity. Whilst a stream is confined within its banks, it fertilizes, enriches, and improves the country through which it passes; but if it deserts its channel it becomes injurious and destructive, a sort of public nuisance, and, by stagnating in lakes and marshes, its exhalations diffuse pestilence and disease around. Some glide away in obscurity and insignificance; whilst others become celebrated, traverse continents, give names to countries, and assign the boundaries of empires. Some are tranquil and gentle in their course, whilst others, rushing in torrents, dashing over precipices, and tumbling in waterfalls, become objects of terror and dismay. But however diversified their character or their direction, all agree in having their course short, limited, and determined: soon they fall into one capacious receptacle; their waters eventually mix in the waves of the ocean. Thus human characters, however various, have one common destiny; their course of action may be greatly diversified, but they all lose themselves in the ocean of eternity." -Robert Hall.

Both speed their journey with a restless stream;
The silent pace, with which they steal away,
No wealth can bribe, no prayers persuade to stay;
Alike irrevocable both when past,

And a wide ocean swallows both at last.

Though each resemble each, in every part,

A difference strikes at length the musing heart;
Streams never flow in vain; where streams abound,
How laughs the land with various plenty crowned!
But time, that should enrich the nobler mind,
Neglected, leaves a dreary waste behind.

-

XII. THE HARPER.

COWPER.

"WHO from his own experience cannot bear testimony to the good qualities of the dog! It has been somewhere said, and with truth, that man is the god of the dog, for to man he looks up with reverence and affection, and the praise of his master is his richest reward. Is this instinctive attachment of the dog to man an acquired feeling? or is it an original impulse implanted in its nature, by the all wise

Creator, for man's benefit, so that, in the primitive condition of society, he might have a friend and assistant, all important in the chace, and in the extirpation of wild beasts, which, ere he can settle in the land and found a colony, he must drive to a distance or destroy?"- Knight's Museum of Animated Nature.

Compare the following adjectives:

Parse the following, and put them

into sentences (both as nouns

and verbs when necessary):

On the green banks of Shannon, when Sheelah was nigh,
No blithe Irish lad was so happy as I;1

2

No harp like my own could so cheerily play,
And wherever I went was my poor dog Tray.

When at last I was forced from my Sheelah to part,
She said, while the sorrow was big at her heart,
Oh, remember your Sheelah, when far, far away,
And be kind, my dear Pat, to your poor dog Tray.
Poor dog; he was faithful and kind to be sure,
And he constantly loved me, although I was poor;
When the sour-looking folks sent me heartless away,
I had always a friend in my poor dog Tray.

When the road was so dark, and the night was so cold,
And Pat and his dog were grown weary and old,
How snugly we slept in my old coat of grey,
And he licked me for kindness-my poor dog Tray.
Though my wallet was scant, I remembered his case,
Nor refused my last crust to his pitiful face;
But he died at my feet, on a cold winter's day,3
And I played a lament for my poor dog Tray.
Where now shall I go? poor, forsaken and blind,
Can I find one to guide me, so faithful and kind?
To my sweet native village, so far, far away,
I can never return with my poor dog Tray.

1. What is I the nom, to?

2. What other form has this adverb?

CAMPBELL.

3. Is there any difference between a winter's day and a wintry day?

XIII. TO A BEE.

"EVERY thing in these little animals (bees) should excite our wonder. The construction of their limbs, so regular and so well adapted to their mode of life; the care which they take of their young; the art with which they build their cells; their activity, industry, and intel