That soothed me last, as you fondly prest
My glowing cheek to your soft, white breast,
For I saw a scene, when I slumbered last,
That I fain would see again.

For I dreamed a heavenly dream, mamma,
While slumbering on thy knee ;-

And I lived in a land where forms divine
In kingdoms of glory eternally shine,

And the world I'd give, if the world were mine,
Again that land to see.

Then I mixed with the heavenly throng, mamma;
With cherub and seraphim fair;

And saw, as I roamed the regions of peace,
The spirits which came from this world of distress ;-
And there was the joy no tongue can express,
For they knew no sorrow there.

Do mind when sister Jane, mamma,
you
Lay dead a short time agone?

Oh! you gazed on the sad and lovely wreck,
With a full flood of woe you could not check,
And your heart was so sore, you wished it would break,
But it lived, and you aye sobbed on!

But oh! had you been with me, mamma,
In the realms unknown to care,
And seen what I saw, you ne'er had cried,
Though they buried pretty Jane in the

died;

grave when she

For shining with the blest, and adorned like a bride,

Sweet sister Jane was there.

[Did you mind that poor old man, mamma, Who came so late to our door;

And the night was dark, and the tempest loud,
And his heart was weak, but his soul was proud,
And his ragged old mantle served for his shroud,
Ere the midnight watch was o'er ?

And then what a weight of woe, mamma,
Made heavy each long-drawn sigh,
As the good man sat on papa's old chair,
While the rain dropped down from his thin, grey hair,
And fast the big tear of speechless care
Ran down from his glazing eye.

And think what a heavenward look, mamma,
Flashed through each trembling eye,

As he told how he went to the baron's strong hold,
Saying, "Oh! let me in, for the night is so cold;"
But the rich man cried, "Go sleep in the wold,
For we shield no beggars here."

Well! he was in glory too, mamma,
As happy as the blest can be;

He needed no alms, in the mansion of light,
For he sat with the patriarchs, clothed in white-
And there was not a seraph had a crown more bright,
Nor a costlier robe than he.]

Now sing, for I fain would sleep, mamma,
And dream as I dreamed before;

For sound was my slumber, and sweet was my rest,
While my spirit in the kingdom of life was a guest—
And the heart that has throbbed in the climes of the

blest,

Can love this world no more.

LESSON LIV.

THE RUBICON.

The Rubicon, now called the Rugone, is a small river of Italy, which rises in the Appenines, and runs eastwardly into the Adriatic sea, or Gulf of Venice. The province of Cisalpine Gaul, or Gaul this side of the Alps, was bounded at the south by this stream, and was under the government of Julius Cæsar, a renowned general, who had subjected Transalpine Gaul, (what is now called France,) England and part of Germany to the dominion of Rome. His great success, and the dissentions at Rome, tempted his ambition, and, disregarding the law, he crossed the Rubicon, and after a series of civil wars, put an end to the republic, and was declared Imperator or Emperor, Pontifex Maximus or High Priest, and finally he was by law deified or classed amongst the gods.

The embattled host, triumphant from the field

Of distant Gaul, and Britain's island shore,
Stood on the farther bank of that small stream
O'er which the eternal city had decreed
"T was treason for her armëd hosts to pass.
The chief reined in his fiery steed
Irresolute;-across his thought a cloud
Passed swiftly, shadowing forth the penalty
Of such revolt, which no retreat, no service
Nobly done, no weight of glory gained
Could e'er atone for or undo. He turned
And looked upon the host, whose instant shout
Like peals of thunder shook the vaulted sky.
"Soldiers !" he cried; “behold the Rubicon!
What say you? shall we on to the capitol,
And rule the world, or shall we backward turn,
Untouched the goal, and lost the mighty prize?"
A second shout swelled louder on the gale,-
The knell of the republic! At the sound
Cæsar plunged in, and down the bank the host
Impetuous rushed; and Rome, by factions torn,
Forgotten all her years of manly strife,

To check the pride of Tarquin and the Ten,
With scarce a struggle, bowed her to the yoke,
And owned an Emperor.

Ages thereafter, on these western shores
Unknown to Rome, another chieftain stood,
And though no real stream the line described
"Twixt law and usurpation, and his land
Bleeding and destitute, invited crime,
A moral Rubicon before him ran,

Deeper than Mississippi's bed, as ocean wide;
And though, in one scale, power supreme,
Desert, ambition, weighed with mighty force,
He threw into the other freedom, hopes,
By noble hearts of every clime made prayers,
And, wonderful example! firmly laid
The corner stone of that blest edifice,
Which, in a sense Rome never understood,
Shall be the light and glory of the world.

Such was the chief of old that quenched the flame Of liberty, to shine Imperator,

Pontifex Maximus, immortal god!

Made and unmade by mortals like himself!-
Such too, was he, whom no temptation moved;
Whose fame, no space, no time can circumscribe;
Whose name, above all titles, stands alone,
With patriotism, greatness, goodness, truth,
Synonymous-GEORGE WASHINGTON!

LESSON LV.

EXTRACT FROM A EULOGY ON WASHINGTON.

A Eulogy is a speech or writing in praise of a person, usually of a person deceased. At the death of General Washington innumerable eulogies were pronounced, and probably more than a hundred were printed. The author of the following extract was the REV. J. M. MASON, of New-York.

The name of Washington is connected with all that is most brilliant in the history of our country, and in human character, and awakens sensations which agi

tate the fervors of youth, and warm the chill bosom of age. Preeminent already in worth, he is summoned to the preeminence of toil and of danger. Followed by her little bands, her prayers and her tears, Washington espouses the quarrel of his country.

The Omnipotent, who allots great enjoyment as the meed of great exertion, had ordained that America should be free; but that she should learn to value the blessing by the price of its acquisition. She shall go to a "wealthy place," but her way is "through fire and through water." Many a generous chief must bleed, and many a gallant youth sink, at his side, into the surprised grave; the field must be heaped with slain; the purple torrent must roll, ere the angel of peace descend with his olive. It is here, amid devastation, and horror, and death, that Washington must reap his laurels, and engrave his trophies on the shield of immortality. Shall Delaware and Princeton-shall Monmouth and York-but I may not particularize, far less repeat the tale which babes recite, which poets sing, and fame has published to the listening world. Every scene of his action was a scene of his triumph. Now, he saved the republic by more than Fabian caution; now, he avenged her by more than Carthaginian fierceness. While, at every stroke, her forests and her hills re-echoed her shout; "The sword of the Lord and of Washington!"

Whatever ills America had to endure in maintaining her rights, she exulted that she had nothing to fear from her commander-in-chief. That invisible hand which girded him at first, continued to guard and to guide him to the last; nor did he account it a weakness to bend the knee in homage to its supremacy, or in prayer for its direction. This was the armor of Washington; this the salvation of his country.

But though Washington is dead, Jehovah lives. God of our fathers! be our God, and the God of our chil