his paws upon the meat, and grumbling and barking, he audaciously flew in the face of the lion. But the generous creature, instead of being offended with his im'potent companion," started back, and seemed terrified at the fury of his attack, neither attempted to eat a bit till his favorite had tacitly given permission.

8. When they were both gorged, the lion stretched and turned himself, and lay down in an evident posture for repose; but this his sportive companion would not admit. He frisked and gambolled about him, barked at him, would now scrape and tear at his head with his claws, and again seize him by the ear and bite and pull away; while the noble beast appeared affected by no other sentiment save that of pleasure and complacence. But let us proceed to the tragic catastrophe of this extraordinary story; a story still known to many, as delivered down by tradition from father to son.

9. In about twelve months the little spaniel sickened and died, and left his loving patron the most desolate of creatures. For a time the lion did not appear to conceive otherwise than that his favorite was asleep. He would continue to smell of him, and then would stir him with his nose, and turn him over with his paw; but, finding that all his efforts to awake him were vain, he would traverse his cage from end to end at a swift and uneasy pace, then stop and look down upon him with a fixed and drooping regard; and again" lift his head on high, and open his horrible throat, and prolong a roar, as of distant thunder, for several minutes together.

10. They attempted, but in vain, to convey the carcass from him; he watched it perpetually, and would suffer nothing to touch it. The keeper then endeavored to tempt him with variety of victuals, but he turned with loathing from all that was offered. They then put several living dogs into his cage, and these he instantly tore piecemeal, but left their members on the floor. His passion being thus inflamed, he would dart his fangs into the board, and pluck away large splinters, and again grapple at the bars of his cage, and seem enraged at his restraint from tearing the world to pieces.

11. Again, as quite spent, he would stretch himself by the remains of his beloved associate, and gather him in with his paws, and put him to his bosom; and then utter under-roars of such terrible melancholy as seemed to threaten all around, for the loss of his little playfellow," the only friend, the only companion, that he had upon earth.

HENRY BROOKE.

1. FAILING in his enterprise for the liberation of Geneva, Bonnivard d was transported to the castle of Chillon, where a dreadful captivity awaited him. Bound by the middle of his body to a chain, the other end of which was attached to an iron ring in a pillar," he remained in this condition six years, free to move the length only of his chain, and able to recline only where103 it allowed him to extend himself.

2. The pavement was hollowed by his measured tread; but the thought that his captivity would perhaps avail nothing for place yountry, and that Geneva and

were doomed to perpetual fetters, must have been more wearing
to his mind than his steps to the stone.

in

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"Chillon thy prison is a holy place,

And thy sad floor an altar; for 't was trod,

Until his very steps have left a trace,

Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod,
By Bonnivard! May none those marks efface!
For they appeal from tyranny to God."

3. How happened it, in this long night, which no day broke
upon, and where the silence was disturbed by no sound save
that of the waves of the lake dashing against the walls of his
dungeon, how happened it that the mind did not overpower
the body, or the body the mind? Why was it that the jailer,
on going his rounds some morning, did not find his prisoner
either dead or mad? One besetting. one eternal ideä,
it not enough to break the heart, or paralyze the brain?

was

4. And, during this time, during these six years, during this eternity,- not a cry, not a murmur, as his jailers testifie escaped from the prisoner; although, without doubt, when the tempest was unloosed, when the gale tore up the waves, when the rain and the blast lashed the walls, he too had his utterance; for then his voice might be lost in the great voice of nature; for then God only could distinguish his cries and sobs, and, the next day, his jailers, who had not feasted on his despair, would find him calm and resigned, the tempest in his heart *** subdued" and hushed, like that in the sky.

5. Ah! without that—without that would he not have
dashed his brains out against the pillar to which he was chained?
Could he have awaited that day when his countrymen simulta
neously burst into his prison to rescue and to honor him? A
hundred voices then exclaimed, "Bonnivard, thou art free!".
"And Geneva?"-"Is also free!" ORIGINAL TRANSLATION.

Through wind and wave, right onward steer!
The moistened eye, the trembling lip,

Are not the signs of doubt or fear.

4. Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State,
Sail on, O UNION, strong and great!
Humanity, with all its fears,
With all the hopes of future years,
Is hanging breathless on thy fate!
We know what master laid thy keel,
What workmen wrought thy ribs of steel,
Who made cach mast, and sail, and rope,
What anvils rang, what hammers beat,
In what a forge and what a heat
Were shaped the anchors of thy hope!

5. Fear not each sudden sound and shock,
"T is of the wave, and not the rock;
"T is but the flapping of the sail,
And not a rent made by the gale!

In spite of rock and tempest's100 roar,
In spite of false lights on the shōre,
Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea!
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee.
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears,

Are all with thee,

are all with thee!

1. WHY, Affectation, why this mock grimace?
Go, silly thing, and hide that simpering face!
Thy lisping prattle, and thy mincing gait,
All thy false mimic fooleries, I hate;
For thou art Folly's counterfeit, and she
Who is right foolish hath the better plea;
Nature's true idiot I prefer to thee.

begone!

2. Why that soft languish? Why that drawling tone?
Art sick? art sleepy? Get29 thee hence, -
I laugh at all those pretty baby tears,
Those flutterings, faintings, and unreal fears.

3. Can they deceive us? Can such mummeries move,
Touch us with pity, or inspire with love?
No, Affectation, vain is all thy art;
Those eyes may wander over every part,
They'll never find their passage to the heart.

CUMBERLAND.

ALEXANDERE rose early. The first moments of the day went consecrated to private devotion. But, as he deemed the service of mankind the most acceptable worship of the gods, the greater part of his morning hours was employed in council, where he discussed public affairs, and determined private causes, with a patience and discretion above his years. The dryness of business was relieved by the charms of literature; and a portion of time was always set apart for his favorite studies of poetry, history, and philosophy.

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The works of Virgil and Horace," the republics of Plato and Cicero, formed his taste, enlarged his understanding, and gave him the noblest ideas of man and of government. The ex

ercises of the body succeeded to those of the mind; and Alexan-
der, who was tall, active, and robust, surpassed most of his equals
of his bath, and

in the gymnastic arts. Refreshed use business of the

a slight dinner, he resume with new

day; and till the hour of supper, the principal meal of the Ro-
mans, he was attended by his secretaries, with whom he read and
answered the multitude of letters, memorials, and petitions, that
must have been addressed to the master of the greatest part of
the world.
economical

His table was served with the most frugal simplicity; and
whenever he was at liberty to consult his own inclination, the
company consisted of a few select friends, men of learning and
virtue. His dress was plain and modest; his demeanor, courteous
and affable. At the proper hours, his palace was open to all his
subjects; but the voice of a crier was heard, as in the Eleu-
sinian mysteries, pronouncing the same salutal admonition,
"Let none enter these holy walls, unless he is conscious of a puro
and innocent mind."

2. QUEEN ELIZABETH. - Hume.

There are few great personages in history who

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have been more exposed to the calumny of enemies, and the adulation of friends, than Queen Elizabeth; and yet there scarcely is any whose tid. reputation has been more certainly determined by the unanimous Consent of posterity. The unusual length of her administration,

were able to overcome

and the strong features of her actors to abate much of their

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all prejudices; and, obliging her budinvectives, and her admirers somewhat of their panegyrics, have, at last in spite of political factions, and, what is more, of religious animosities, produced a uniform judgment with regard to her conduct.

Few sovereigns of England succeeded to the throne in more difficult circumstances; and and felicily Though unacnone ever conducted, the, government with such uniform success felicifficugh unac quainted with the practice of toleration, the true secret for managing religious factions, she preserved her people, by her superior prudence, from those confusions in which theological controversy had involved all the neighboring nations; and though her enemies were the most powerful princes of Europe, -the most active, the most enterprising, the least scripulos; she was able, by her vigor, to make deep impressions on their states. Her own greatness, meanwhile, remained unimpaired.

The wise ministers and brave warriors who flourished under her reign share the praise of her success; but, instead of lessen