nothing to be reduced to this paltry situation,-to be caged in a miserable cottage, to be obliged to toil almost in the menial' concerns of her wretched habitation ?"

9. "Has she, then, repined' at the change?" "Repined! she has been nothing but sweetness and good-humor. Indeed, she seems in better spirits than I have ever known her; she has been to me all love, and tenderness, and comfort!" "Ad'mirable girl!" exclaimed I. "You call yourself poor, my friend; you never were so rich,-you never knew the boundless treasures of excellence you possess in that woman."

10. "Oh! but, my friend, if this, our first meeting at the cottage, were over, I think I could then be comfortable. But this is her first day of real experience; she has been introduced into a humble dwelling; she has been employed all day in arranging its miserable equipments; she has, for the first time, known the fatigues of domestic employment; she has, for the first time, looked round her on a home destitute of every thing elegant,almost of every thing convenient; and may now be sitting down, exhausted and spiritless, brooding over a prospect of future poverty."

11. There was a degree of probability in this picture that I could not gainsay; so we walked on in silence. After turning from the main road up a narrow lane, so thickly shaded with forest-trees as to give it a complete air of seclusion, we came in sight of the cottage. It was humble enough in its appearance for the most pastoral poet; and yet it had a pleasing rural look. A wild vine had overrun one end with a profusion of foliage; a few trees threw their branches gracefully over it; and I observed several pots of flowers tastefully disposed about the door, and on the grass-plot in front.

12. A small wicket-gate opened upon a foot-path that wound through some shrubbery to the door. Just as we approached, we heard the sound of music. Leslie grasped my arm; we paused and listened. It was Mary's voice, singing, in a style of the most touching simplicity, a little air of which her husband was peculiarly fond. I felt Leslie's hand tremble on my arm.

1 1 Mo' ni al, being low or mean; relating to a servant.2 Re pined', complained; expressed sorrow or regret. E quip' ments, furniture

He stepped forward, to hear more distinctly. His step made a noise on the gravel-walk.

13. A bright, beautiful face glanced out at the window and vanished, a light footstep was heard, and Mary came tripping forth to meet us. She was in a pretty rural dress of white; a few wild-flowers were twisted in her fine hair; a fresh bloom was on her cheek; her whole countenance beamed with smiles; -I had never seen her look so lovely.

14. "My dear George," cried she, "I am so glad you are come! I have been watching and watching for you; and running down the lane, and looking out for you. I've set out a table under a beautiful tree behind the cottage; and I've been gathering some of the most delicious strawberries, for I know you are fond of them, and we have such excellent cream,—and every thing is so sweet and still here!-Oh!" said she, putting her arm within his, and looking up brightly in his face,-"oh, we shall be so happy!"

He caught her to his bosom,.

kissed her again and again;

15. Poor Leslie was overcome. he folded his arms around her, he he could not speak, but the tears gushed into his eyes; and he has often assured me, that, though the world has since gone prosperously with him, and his life has, indeed, been a happy one, yet never has he experienced a moment of more exʼquisite felicity. WASHINGTON IRVING.

1,

137. THE FAMILY MEETING.

W

E are all here!

Father, mother, sister, brother,

All who hold each other dear.
Each chair is filled: we're all at home.
To-night, let no cold stranger come:
It is not often thus around

Our old familiar hearth we're found:
Bless then the meeting and the spot;
For once, be every care forgot;
Let gentle Peace assert her power,
And kind Affection rule the hour;
We're all-all here.

2.

3.

We're not all here!

Some are away-the dead ones dear,
Who throng'd with us this ancient hearth,
And gave the hour to guiltless mirth.
Fate, with a stern relentless hand,
Look'd in and thinn'd our little band:
Some, like a night-flash, pass'd away,
And some sank lingering day by day;
The quiet grave-yard-some lie there-
And cruel Ocean has his share;

We're not all here.

We are all here!

Even they, the dead-though dead, so dear,
Fond Memory, to her duty true,

Brings back their faded forms to view.
How life-like through the mist of years,
Each well-remember'd face appears!
We see them as in times long past,
From each to each kind looks are cast;
We hear their words, their smiles behold,
They're round us, as they were of old-
We are all here.

4.

We are all here!

Father, mother,

Sister, brother,

You that I love with love so dear.

This may not long of us be said;
Soon must we join the gather'd dead,
And by the hearth we now sit round,
Some other circle will be found.
Oh! then, that wisdom may we know,
Which yields a life of peace below;
So, in the world to follow this,
May each repeat, in words of bliss,

We're all-all—here!

CHARLES SPRAGUD

138. ADDRESS TO THE MOON.

AUGHTER of heaven, fair art thou! the silence of thy face

tend thy blue course in the east. The clouds rejoice in thy presence, O moon! They brighten their dark-brown sides. Who is like thee in heaven, light of the silent night! The stars in thy presence turn away their sparkling eyes.

2. Whither dost thou retire from thy course, when the darkness of thy countenance grows? Hast thou thy hall, like Ossian? Dwellest thou in the shadow of grief? Have thy sisters fallen from heaven? Are they who rejoice with thee at night, no more? Yes; they have fallen, fair light! and thou dost often retire to mourn. But thou thyself shalt fail, one night, and leave thy blue path in heaven.

3. The stars will then lift their heads and rejoice. Thou art now clothed with thy brightness. Look from thy gates in the sky. Burst the clouds, O wind, that the daughter of night may look forth; that the shaggy' mountains may brighten, and the ocean roll its white waves in light.

OSSIAN.

139. EXERCISE OF THE FAN.

OMEN are armed with fans as men with swords, and some

that ladies may be entire mistresses of the weapon which they bear, I have erected an academy for the training up of young women in the exercise of the fan, according to the most fashionable airs and motions that are now practiced at court. The ladies who carry fans under me are drawn up twice a day in my great hall, where they are instructed in the use of their arms, and exercised by the following words of command :—Handle your fans, unfurl your fans, discharge your fans, ground your fans, recover your fans, flutter your fans.

2. By the right observation of these few plain words of command, a woman of a tolerable genius, who will apply herself

'Shaggy, rough; uneven.

diligently to her exercise for the space of but one kalf-year, shall be able to give her fan all the graces that can possibly enter into that little modish' machine. But to the end that my readers may form to themselves a right notion of this exercise, I beg leave to explain it to them in all its parts.

3. When my female regiment is drawn up in array, with every one her weapon in her hand, upon my giving the word to handle their fans, each of them shakes her fan at me with a smile, then gives her right-hand woman a tap upon the shoulder, then presses her lips with the extremity of her fan, then lets her arms fall in easy motion, and stands in readiness to receive the next word of command. All this is done with a closed fan, and is generally learned in the first week.

4. The next motion is that of unfurling the fan, in which arę comprehended several little flirts and vibrations, as also gradual and deliberate openings, with many voluntary fallings asunder in the fan itself, that are seldom learned under a month's practice. This part of the exercise pleases the spectators more than any other, as it discovers, on a sudden, an infinite number of cupids, garlands, altars, birds, beasts, rainbows, and the like agreeable figures, that display themselves to view, while every one in the regiment holds a picture in her hand.

5. Upon my giving the word to discharge their fans, they give one general crack that may be heard at a considerable distance when the wind sits fair. This is one of the most difficult parts of the exercise, but I have several ladies with me, who, at their first entrance, could not give a pop loud enough to be heard at the further end of the room, who can now discharge a fan in such a manner, that it shall make a report like a pocket-pistol. I have likewise taken care (in order to hinder young women from letting off their fans in wrong places, or on unsuitable occasions) to show upon what subject the crack of a fan may come in properly: I have likewise invented a fan, with which a girl of sixteen, by the help of a little wind, which is inclosed about one of the largest sticks, can make as loud a crack as a woman of fifty with an ordinary fan.

1 'Mòd' ish, according to the mode; fashionable.—2 Rẻġ' i ment, a body of troops, usually eight or ten companies, commanded by a colonel.