he heard steps approaching, and the two Lieutenants hastening to his assistance. Unfortunately they were in a wrong direction, for the lion was between them and him. Aware, that if his friends fired, the balls would hit him after they had passed through the lion's body, Captain Woodhouse quietly said in a low and subdued tone, “To the other side! to the other side!" Hearing the voice, they looked in the direction from whence it came, and, to their horror, saw their brave comrade in his utmost need. Having made a circuit, they cautiously came up on the other side, and Lieutenant Delamain fired from a distance of about twelve yards at the lion, over the person of his friend. The lion merely quivered; his head dropped upon the ground, and in an instant he lay dead on his side, close to his intended victim.

Captain Woodhouse was in all probability saved from instant death, by his resolution, in lying still in his dreadful position.

I have read, that lions are sometimes kept at bay by looking them steadily in the face. A Hottentot once came suddenly upon three lions among tall rushes. When he turned to make a sign to his companions, they advanced; but as soon as he turned his eyes towards them again, they stopped; and when the other Hottentots came up, and stood by his side, the lions walked off.

INCIDENT

CHARACTERISTIC OF A FAVOURITE DOG.

On his morning rounds the Master
Goes, to learn how all things fare;
Searches pasture after pasture,

Sheep and cattle eyes with care;
And for silence or for talk,

He hath comrades in his walk; Four dogs, each pair of different breed, Distinguished two for scent, and two for speed.

See a hare before him started!

Off they fly in earnest chase;
Every dog is eager-hearted;

All the four are in the race :
And the hare whom they pursue
Hath an instinct what to do ;
Her hope is near,-no turn she makes,
But, like an arrow, to the river takes.
Deep the river was, and crusted

Thinly by a one night's frost;
But the nimble hare hath trusted
To the ice, and safely crost.
She hath crost, and without heed
All are following at full speed;

When, lo! the ice, so thinly spread,

Breaks, and the greyhound, Dart, is overhead!

Better fate have Prince and Swallow;

See them cleaving to the sport!

Music has no heart to follow,

Little Music, she stops short.

She hath neither wish nor heart;
Hers is now another part :

A loving creature she, and brave!

And fondly strives her struggling friend to save.
From the brink her paws she stretches,-

Very hands, as you would say;
And afflicting moans she fetches,
As he breaks the ice away.
For herself she hath no fears,

Him alone she sees and hears,—

Makes efforts and complainings; nor gives o'er,
Until her fellow sank, and re-appeared no more!

TRIBUTE

TO THE MEMORY OF THE SAME DOG.

LIE here, without a record of thy worth,
Beneath a covering of the common earth!
It is not from unwillingness to praise,

Or want of love, that here no stone we raise.
More thou deserv'st: but this man gives to man,
Brother to brother, this is all we can.

Yet they to whom thy virtues made thee dear
Shall find thee through all changes of the year.
This oak points out thy grave; the silent tree
Will gladly stand a monument of thee.

I grieved for thee, and wished thy end were past,
And willingly have laid thee here at last :
For thou hadst lived till every thing that cheers
In thee had yielded to the weight of years;

Extreme old age had wasted thee away,
And left thee but a glimmering of the day;

Thy ears were deaf, and feeble were thy knees,-
I saw thee stagger in the summer breeze,
Too weak to stand against its sportive breath,
And ready for the gentlest stroke of Death.

It came, and we were glad. Yet tears were shed;
Both man and woman wept when thou wert dead,
Not only for a thousand thoughts that were-

Old household thoughts, in which thou had'st thy share,-
But for some precious boons vouchsaf'd to thee,

Found scarcely any where in like degree.
For love, that comes to all, the holy sense,
Best gift of God, in thee was most intense;
A chain of heart, a feeling of the mind,
A tender sympathy, which did thee bind,
Not only to us men, but to thy kind:
Yea, for thy fellow-brutes in thee we saw
The soul of love, love's intellectual law.
Hence, if we wept, it was not done in shame ;
Our tears from passion and from reason came,
And therefore shalt thou be an honoured name!

SIR WILLIAM JONES.

I AM going to tell you something about the childhood of a very learned and good man, who was afterwards a judge in India; and I hope you will learn from his example to be industrious and persevering. Sir William Jones was born in London, in the year 1746. His father died when he was only three years old, so that the whole care of his education fell upon his mother, who was very fit for the task. She took great pains to give her child a wish for knowledge; and when he asked questions of her, always answered, "Read, and you will know." This reply made him so eager to learn, that in his fourth year he was able to read any English book, and could say by heart some of Shakspeare's plays, and the best of Gay's fables. He was a very active and lively boy, and eager to try experiments, which, when at this age, nearly caused his death. Being left alone in a room one day, he tried to scrape some soot from the chimney, in doing which, he fell into the fire, and his clothes were instantly in flames. His cries brought the servants to his assistance, but his face, neck, and arms, were sadly burnt. Soon after this, he had another accident, by which he had nearly lost his sight. As the servants were putting on his clothes, which were fastened with hooks and eyes, he struggled, either in play, or in a childish pet, and a hook was fixed in his right eye. By proper care, the wound