LESSON XCIII. The Slave Ship.-PRINGLE. 1 THERE was no sound upon the deep, Out of the cooling brine to leap 2 Becalm'd on that Atlantic plain And she watched six dreary days, in vain, 3 But the storm came not, and still the ray Waxed hotter and hotter every day, 4 Deep in the dark and fetid hold They were slaves, that the cursed lust of gold 5 Crammed in that dungeon-hold they stood, Till the love of life was all subdued By the fever's scorching blight; And their dim eyes wept, half tears, half blood,But still they stood upright. 6 And there they stood, the quick and dead, Propped by that dungeon's wall,— And the dying mother bent her head 7 The morning came, and the sleepless crew And, ere that eve, of the tyrant few, 8 They died, the jailer and the slave,- 9 The Pest-ship slept on her ocean-bed, Till they all, save one old man, were dead, Bowed not his sturdy neck. 10 He arose, the chain was on his hands, There on the deck that old man stands, 11 He sat down, and he watched a cloud Just cross the setting sun, And he heard the light breeze heave the shroud, When the night came on, the gale was loud, 12 And still the negro boldly walked The lone and silent ship; With a step of vengeful pride he stalked, For he laughed to think how Death had baulked 13 At last he slept ;-the lightning flash Played round the creaking mast, And the sails were wet with the ocean's plash, Till, at length, with a loud and fearful crash, 14 Away she swept, as with instinct rife, Yet on board that ship was no sound of life, 15 He sang of his Afric's distant sands, He feared to die in other lands 'Neath a tyrant master's rod; And he lifted his hard and fettered hands 16 He touched not the sail nor the driving helm, But he looked on the raging sea, And he joyed,-for the waves that would overwhelm, And he prayed, that the ship to no Christian realm 17 He smiled amidst the tempest's frown, His joy no fear of death could drown,— The helmless ship that night went down LESSON XCIV. Cemeteries and Rites of Burial in Turkey.-HARTLEY. 1 IN Turkey, the places and rites of sepulture have an affecting prominence and solemnity connected with them, scarcely equalled in Christendom. In general, the dead are interred in very spacious cemeteries, contiguou towns and villages. There appear to be two cities f side by side-the city of the living, and the city of the dead; and the population of the city of the dead far exceeds that of the city of the living. The Jews have covered the face of a very large hill, rising above the city of Smyrna, with the stones which note the place where the 2 earthly remains of their deceased countrymen are deposited. There is a desolation and forlorn appearance presented by this spot, unsheltered as it is by a single tree, which is in striking contrast with the thick shade and beautiful order of the Turkish places of burial. It shows that, even in death, the Jew is not exempt from the contempt and oppression of which he could not divest himself whilst living. The interment of a corpse according to the ritual of the English church, had always, to my mind, a striking solemnity in Turkey. On passing through the streets to the 3 place of burial, innumerable eyes of strangers, of a diver sity of nations, gaze fixedly upon the scene. All is still. The pursuits of business are suspended; a lucid interval appears to be imparted to the delirium of folly and sin: and, when the muffled drum and martial step, which accompany to the dust the body of an English sailor, add their interest. to the procession, the feelings of spectators are wrought up to no common pitch of excitement. During the reading of the burial service, more especially at Constantinople, where the English burial-ground is in a place exceedingly public, 4 a solemn attention arrests all present, even though to few the language is intelligible. Turks, Greeks, Armenians, Jews and Christians, appear to have forgotten their animosities, and, at the grave of death, to have recollected that a common fate awaits them all. However distinct they may be from each other in the enjoyments and attainments of life, and however they may differ in what is much more momentous-the prospects of immortality—still is there an awful uniformity, which unites in one inseparable communion the men of all ranks, of all ages, and of all reli5 gions:- Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return. Very frequently, whilst you are silently engaged in your apartment, the stillness of a Turkish town, where no rumbling of wheels is ever heard, is interrupted by the distant sound of the funeral chant of the Greek priests. As the voices grow more loud, you hasten to the window to behold the procession. The priests move first, bearing their burn The ing tapers, and, by their dark and flowing robes, give an idea of mourning in harmony with the occasion. corpse is always exhibited to full view. It is placed upon 6 a bier, which is borne aloft upon the shoulders, and is dressed in the best and gayest garments possessed by the deceased. I have sometimes seen a young female, who had departed in the bloom of life and beauty, adorned rather as a bride to meet the bridegroom, than as one who was to be the tenant of the chamber of corruption. The young man at Nain, who was restored to life by the command of our Savior, was doubtless carried on a bier of this kind. When our Lord intimated the design of interposing in his favor, they that bare him stood still. And when the 7 miraculous energy was exerted, he that was dead sat up, and began to speak. I believe it is unusual for any of the Orientals to be buried in coffins. The closing part of the Greek burial service, commencing with the words, "Come and impart the last embrace," is very affecting. The friends of the departed press forward from every part of the church, and kiss his cold and pallid lips, and weep over him. It is considered a very peculiar mark of disrespect to neglect this last office of affection. 1 LESSON XCV. On Contentment.-ADDISON. CONTENTMENT produces, in some measure, all those effects which the alchymist usual ascribes to what he calls the philosopher's stone; and if it does not bring riches, it does the same thing, by banishing the desire of them. If it cannot remove the disquietudes arising from a man's mind, body, or fortune, it makes him easy under them. It has indeed a kindly influence on the soul of man, in respect of every being to whom he stands related. It extinguishes all murmur, repining, and ingratitude, towards that Being who has allotted him his part to act in this world. It de2 stroys all inordinate ambition, and every tendency to corruption, with regard to the community wherein he is placed. It gives sweetness to his conversation, and a perpetual serenity to all his thoughts. |