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has just heard from his three sons. One of them is a driver on a canal; another has been taken up as a vagrant; and the third has gone to a certain public institution, to learn to hammer stone, under a keeper.

7. REBUKING ARROGANCE. — When Abernethy was canvassing for the office of surgeon to St. Bartholomew Hospital, in London, he called upon a rich grocer, one of the governors. The great man behind the counter, seeing the poor surgeon enter, immediately assumed the grand air toward the supposed suppliant for his vote, and said: “I presume, sir, you want my vote and interest at this momentous epoch of your life.” Abernethy, who hated humbugs, and felt nettled at the tone, replied, “No, I don't; I want a pennyworth of figs. Come, look sharp, and wrap them up; I want to be off!”.

8. OPPOSITION TO REFORM.-—“I do not mean," — said the Rev. Sydney Smith, at a meeting on the Reform Bill, — "I do not mean to be disrespectful; but the attempt of the Lords to stop the progress of reform, reminds me very forcibly of the great storm of Sidmouth, and of the conduct of the excellent Mrs. Partington on that occasion. In the winter of 1824, there set in a great flood upon that town; the tide rose to an incredible height; the waves rushed in upon the houses, and every thing was threatened with destruc

tion.

"In the midst of this sublime and terrible storm, Dame Partington, who lived upon the beach, was seen at the door of her house, with mop and pattens, trundling the mop, squeezing out the sea-water, and vigorously pushing away the Atlantic Ocean. The Atlantic was roused. Mrs. Partington's spirit was up; but I need not tell you that the contest was unequal. The Atlantic Ocean beat Mrs. Partington. She was excellent at a slop or a puddle, but she should not have meddled with a tempest. Gentlemen, be at your ease; be quiet and steady. You will beat Mrs. Partington."

9. MURDERING A TUNE. — Foote once asked a man without a sense of a tūne in him, “Why are you forever humming that tune?” — “Because it haunts me,” was the reply. —“No wonder," said Foote ; "you are forever murdering it.”

10. THE QUAKER'S RETORT. -- A Quaker and a hotheaded youth were, on a recent occasion, quarreling, ' in the street. The man with the broad-brimmed hat kept his temper most ēquably, which seemed but to increase the anger of the other. “Fellow," said the latter, with an oath, “I don't know a bigger fool than you are.” – “Stop, friend,” replied the Quaker, " thou dost forget thyself.”

11. ON EARLY RISING.—Said Lord. Chatham to his son: “I would inscribe on the curtains of your bed, and the walls of your chamber, ‘If you do not rise early, you can make progress in nothing. If you do not set apart your hours of reading, if you suffer your. self or any one else to break in upon them, your days will slip through your hands unprofitable and frivolous, and unenjoyed by yourself.'"

12. A STUPID QUESTION. — Professor Porson, being once at a dinner party, where the conversation turned upon Captain Cook and his celebrated voyages round the world, an ignorant young man, in order to contribute his mite toward the general conversation, asked the professor, thoughtlessly, “ Pray, sir, was Cook killed on his first voyage ?” — “I believe he was," answered Porson, “ though he does not seem to have minded it much; for he immediately entered on a second."

13. THE JUDGE AND THE LAWYER. — On a certain occasion, when pleading a cause at the bar, Tawyer

Brooks observed to Judge Rice, that he would conclude his remarks on the following day, unless the Court would consent to set late enough for. him to finish them that evening. " Sit, sir," said the judge ; “not set: hens set.” — “I stand corrected, sir," replied the lawyer, bowing. Not long after, the judge, while giving an opinion in a marine case, asked, in regard to a certain ship, “At what wharf does she lay?" " Lie, may it please your honor," exclaimed Mr. Brooks; “not lay: hens lay.”

XLVII. — THE DYING TRUMPETER.

YIELD-MAR'SHAL, n., the commander | VIC-TOʻRIA, n., a Latin word, meaning of an army. . . | victory.

The ew in news has the y sound of long u. Pronounce wound, woond.

Upon the field of battle

The dying trumpeter lay,
And from his side the life-blood

Was streaming fast away.

His deadly wound is burning,

And yệt he can not die,
Till his company returning

Bring news of victory.
Hark! as he rises reeling

Upon the bloody ground, -
Hark! o'er the field is pealing

A well-known trumpet's sound.
It gives him life and vigor ;

He grasps his horse's mane ;
He mounts, and lifts his trumpet

To his dying lips again.,
And all his strength he găthers
To hold it in his hand,

ne. woula.

Then pours, in tones of thunder,

“ Victoria !o'er the land.

“ Victoria !” sounds the trumpet!

“ Victoria !” all around;
" Victoria !” like loud thunder

It runs along the ground.

And in that blast so thrilling,

The trumpeter's spirit fled ;
He breathed his last breath in it,

And from his steed fell dead.

The company returning

Stood silent round their friend ;
“That,” said the old field-marshal,
“That was a happy end !”,

From the German of Julius MOSER.

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Things of high import sound I in thine ears,

Dear child, though now thou mayst not feel their power; But hoard them up, and in thy coming years

Forget them not, and, when earth's tempests lower, A talisman unto thee shall they be, To give thy weak arm strength — to make thy dim eyes see.

Seek Truth, — that pure celestial Truth, — whose birth

Was in the heaven of heavens, clear, sacred, shrined
In Reason's light. — Not oft she visits earth,
But her majestic port, the willing mind,

awyer

Through Faith, may sometimes see. Give her thy soul, Nor faint, though Error's surges loudly 'gainst thee roll.

Be free — not chiefly from the iron chain,

But from the one which Passion forges — be
The master of thyself. If lost, regain

The rule o’er chance, sense, circumstance. Be free.
Trample thy proud lusts proudly 'neath thy feet,
And stand erect, as for a heaven-born one is meet.

Seek Virtue. Wear her armor to the fight;

Then, as a wrestler gathers strength from strife, Shalt thou be nerved to a more vigorous might

By each contending, turbulent ill of life.. Seek Virtue. She alone is all divine; And, having found, be strong, in God's own strength and

thine.

Truth — Freedom — Virtue—these, dear child, have power,

If rightly cherished, to uphold, sustain, And bless thy spirit, in its darkest hour,

Neglect them—thy celestial gifts are vain ; In dust shall thy weak wing be dragged and soiled ; Thy soul be crushed 'neath gauds for which it basely toiled.

Rev. EPHRAIM PEABODY.

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1. My brave associates, partners of my toil, my feelings, and my fame! — can Rolla's words add vigor to the virtuous energies which inspire your hearts ? No! You have judged, as I have, the foulness of the crafty plea by which these bold invaders would delude you. Your generous spirit has com

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