And a window with two feminine men's heads, and two masculine ladies in false curls. And Mrs. Brown, in domestic economy not to be a bit behind her betters, Lets her house to a milliner, a watchmaker, a ratcatcher, a cobler, lives in it herself, and it's the post-office for letters. Now I've gone through all the village-ay, from end to end, save and except one more house, But I hav'nt come to that—and I hope I never shall--and that's the village poor-house! LESSON XXXVIII. TIME AND THE VILLAGE BELLS. The young pupil may not know that in England the village churches are furnished with several bells of different tones, so that they play tunes when properly struck. Such chimes of bells are as yet quite rare, though not unknown, in these United States. The following Fable was taken from an English paper, but its author is unknown. Time chanced one night to rub his wheels Oft from their ivy roost sublime, Gave funeral toll or marriage chime, "Hang thee, (quoth Time,) thy tumult cease, And bid thy clappers keep the peace; Through day man has enough of woes, Officious tell I'm going by?" The bells, though fraught with pertinacity, Were silent for about an hour, But then each wide mouth gave a roar And with a deep and solemn sound, LESSON XXXIX. HOW OLD ART THOU? The following piece is almost a paraphrase of a beautiful expression of scripture. The Sibyl alluded to in the fourth stanza, was a sort of prophetess, who is said to have offered nine volumes of her prophecies to the king of Rome at a very high price. When he refused to purchase, she burned three volumes, but asked the same price for the remaining six. It being still refused, she burned three more. This strange conduct induced the king to pay the full price for the remaining three. The piece is taken from the Guardian. Count not thy days that have idly flown, The years that were vainly spent, Nor speak of the hours thou must blush to own, But number the hours redeemed from sin, Will the shade go back on thy dial-plate? Both hasten on, and thy spirit's fate Life's waning hours, like the Sibyl's page, Oh, arouse thee and live; nor deem that man's age LESSON XL. OLD IRONSIDES, Old Ironsides was a sort of nickname given to the United States frigate CONSTITUTION, which, after being successful in many combats, became the favorite ship of the American navy. When about forty years old, she was condemned to be taken to pieces, and this intention of government gave rise to the following poem. Public sentiment, however, was so opposed to this destruction of the noble vessel, that she was only repaired, but it is said that hardly one of the original timbers was retained. The old wood was wrought into thousands of vases, boxes, canes, and ornamental articles, which are cherished as relics of no ordinary value. Dr. HOLMES, of Boston, is the author of the patriotic lines. Would that the time had arrived when all weapons of war were only valuable as relics! Ay, tear her tattered ensign down! Beneath it rung the battle shout, And burst the cannon's roar; The meteor of the ocean air Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, No more shall feel the victor's tread, Oh! better that her shattered hulk LESSON XLI. THE SUMMONS. The following poem affords the pupil a good opportunity to vary his voice to suit the nature of the summons, martial in the first stanza, gentle in the second, affectionate in the third, serious and sad in the fourth, and solemn in the last. The author of the poem is unknown to the Editor. Hark! there's a summons- -the bugle horn And the trumpet's note on the light wind borne— "T is echoed back by a thousand hills, Its voice is swept o'er the distant rills, And shakes at that summons the river flood, Another summons-a lowly voice, And it tottereth away from its verdant screen, Another summons-a voice of love There's a bridegroom calling his promised bride- A summons again, a voiceless one, Know ye another summons shall come,- Rolling through heaven, sweeping o'er earth, When death your limbs in his chains has bound, |