read in some book which I gnawed a few days ago, that there is a fine country, called the Indies, in which mice are in much greater security than here. In that region, the sages believe that the soul of a mouse has been that of a king, a great captain, or some wonderful saint, and that after death it will probably enter the body of a beautiful woman or mighty potentate. If I recollect rightly, this is called metempsychosis. Under this idea, they treat all animals with paternal charity, and build and endow hospitals for mice, where they are fed like people of consequence. Come then, my good sister, let us hasten to a country, the customs of which are so excellent, and where justice is done to our merits." Her neighbor replied, "But, sister, do not cats enter these hospitals? if they do, metempsychosis must take place very soon, and in great numbers; and a talon or a tooth might make a fakir, or a king; a miracle we can very well do without." "Do not fear," said the first mouse, "in these countries order is completely established; the cats have their houses as well as we ours, and they have their hospitals for the sick separate from ours. After this conversation, our two mice set out together, contriving the evening before she set sail, to creep along the cordage of a vessel that was to make a long voyage. They got under weigh, and were enraptured with the sight of the sea, which took them from the abominable shores on which cats exercise their tyranny. The sail was pleasant, and they reached Surat, not like merchants, to acquire riches, but to receive good treatment from the Hindoos. They had scarcely entered one of the houses fitted up for mice, when they aspired to the best accommodation. One of them pretended to recollect having formerly been a Bramin on the coast of Malabar, and the other protested that she had been a fine lady of the same country, with long ears; but they displayed so much impertinence, that the Indian mice lost all patience. A civil war commenced, and no quarter was given to the two Franks who pretended to impose laws on the others; when, instead of being_eaten by cats, they were strangled by their own brethren. From this it is evident, that it is useless to go far in search of safety; as, if we are not modest and wise, we only go into danger; and if we are so, we may be secure at home. LESSON XXXV. The Lord and the Judge.-LOMONOSOV.* THE God of gods stood up-stood up to try The assembled gods of earth. "How long," he said, "How long will ye protect impiety, ; And let the vile one raise his daring head? Be 'gainst the strong, the helpless one's defence, lot LESSON XXXVI. The House-builder.-KHEMNITZER.* *From Bowring's Specimens of Russian Poets. A certain man a house would build ; Yes! till you fix the corner-stone; Day rolls on day, and year on year, There's always something to delay And thus in silent waiting stood LESSON XXXVII. Hope triumphant in death.-CAMPBELL. UNFADING Hope! when life's last embers burn, When soul to soul, and dust to dust return, Heaven to thy charge resigns the awful hour! Oh! then thy kingdom comes, Immortal Power! What though each spark of earth-born rapture fly The quivering lip, pale cheek, and closing eye! Bright to the soul thy seraph hands convey The morning dream of life's eternal dayThen, then, the triumph and the trance begin! And all the Phoenix spirit burns within! Oh! deep-enchanting prěl'ude to repose, The dawn of bliss, the twilight of our woes! Yet half I hear the parting spirit sigh, It is a dread and awful thing to die! Mysterious worlds, untravell'd by the sun! Where Time's far-wandering tide has never run, From your unfathom'd shades, and viewless spheres, A warning comes, unheard by other ears. 'Tis Heaven's commanding trumpet, long and loud, Daughter of Faith, awake, arise, illume Soul of the just! companion of the dead! Where is thy home, and whither art thou fled ? Back to its heavenly source thy being goes, Swift as the comet wheels to whence he rose ; Doom'd on his airy path awhile to burn, And doom'd, like thee, to travel, and return.— On bickering wheels, and adamantine car; He visits realms beyond the reach of thought; But, wheeling homeward, when his course is run, LESSON XXXVIII. Lines written during a thunder storm.-DMITRIEV.* I hear thy awful voice-alarmed-afraid- Lord! what is man? Up to the sun he flies- He sleeps and dashes on the rocky coast. Thou breathest ;-and the obedient storm is still : And time when viewed through Thy eternity, LESSON XXXIX. Interview between Waverley and Fergus Mac-Ivor, at Carlisle, previous to the execution of the latter.—SCOTT. AFTER a sleepless night, the first dawn of morning found Waverley on the esplanade in front of the old Gothic gate of Carlisle castle. But he paced it long in every direction before the hour when, according to the rules of the garrison, the gates were opened, and the drawbridge lowered. He produced his order to the sergeant of the guard, and was admitted. The place of Fergus's confinement was a gloomy * Bowring's Specimens of Russian Poets. |