of that country, to whom, with many tear, he told his pitiful case.

The magistrate, who was a good and just man, immediately ordered the rich man to be sent for, and brought before him, and when he found he could not deny the wicked act of which he was accused, he commanded both him and the basketmaker to be put on board a ship, and carried to a distant country, inhabited by savages.

As soon as they were set on shore, the sailors left them, agreeably to their orders, and the inhabitants of the country came round them in great numbers.

The rich man, seeing himself thus exposed, and without assistance, began to lament, and wring his hands, in the most abject manner, but the basketmaker kept up his spirits, and made signs to the savages that he was their friend, and was willing to work for them, and be their servant.

The savages set them to work, and the poor man, who was strong and active, and accustomed to labour, soon finished his part, while the rich man, whose limbs were tender and delicate, had made very little progress.

The savages saw that the basketmaker would be very useful to them, and they presented him with a large portion of fish, and several of their choicest roots; but thinking the rich man would be of very little use, they scarcely allowed him sufficient to support life.

The next day they were set to work again, when the basketmaker had the same advantage over his companion, and he was kindly treated by the natives, while they showed every mark of contempt towards the gentleman, whose delicate and luxurious habits had rendered him very unfit for labour.

To be continued.

F

LESSON LIV.

THE FIXED STARS.- THE MILKY WAY.

By the fixed stars we mean those that shine with an intense twinkling lustre; they are called fixed, because they do not appear to change their places, with respect to each other, that is, they appear at the same distance from the other fixed stars near them, that they did a hundred years ago, and in all probabilty the same they will a hundred years hence.

When the stars begin to be visible to us in the evening we see the brightest the first, and we perhaps naturally conclude, that these are the largest, but this is by no means the case, for the fixed stars are bright and dim in proportion to their nearness or distance.

The truth of this we cannot doubt when we view things that are familiar to us, thus a balloon, very high up in the air, appears like a dark speck, while viewed near at hand, it would be an object of considerable magnitude.

The fixed stars shine with their own light the same as the sun, and the prevailing opinion is, that they are suns to other worlds which move round them, in the same way that our planetary bodies move round the

sun.

The distance of the fixed stars is so great that no means can be used to ascertain it, but the nearest one, Sirius, cannot be less than twenty billions of miles distant, and it would take a cannon ball more than four millions of years to reach it, moving at the uniform rate of five hundred miles an hour.

It is supposed that none of these stars, are smaller

than the sun, and it has been estimated that some of them are a great deal larger; these stars are classed according to their apparent size or brilliancy.

The most brilliant are called stars of the first magnitude; those a little less brilliant, of the second magnitude, and so on to the sixth, when they can no longer be seen with the unaided eye.

In glancing up at the heavens on a winter evening, the number of stars appears great, but it is ascertained that few above a thousand can be seen with the eye alone, but if a powerful telescope be used, they may be seen in countless millions, filling infinite space.

The stars appear to move from the east to the west, and this is clearly seen, by taking notice of some particular stars in the early part of the evening, aud then looking at them two or three hours later.

It is perhaps, hardly necessary to inform the young reader, that the stars only apparently move, for they are stationary, and that it is the earth which is turning upon its axis from west to east.

Stars are above us in the day the same as in the night, but we cannot see them on account of the stronger light of the sun; this may be made plainer by supposing that all the streets of a large town were lighted with gas while the sun shone.

Persons passing by would not see the light arising from the gas, because the superior brilliancy of the sun's rays would completely obscure its feeble light, and thus it is that the stars cannot be seen in the day time.

We cannot see so many stars when the moon shines brightly, as when we have no moon, because the light of the moon obscures the light of the smaller stars; we also see fewer stars in summer than in winter, because in summer, for about three months, it is never completely dark, there being twilight during the whole

night, and this obscures the light of the more distant

stars.

The earth, in her journey round the sun, is one hundred and ninety millions of miles nearer some of the fixed stars at one time, than at another, yet it makes no difference in their apparent size, even when viewed through a powerful telescope; this of itself is a convincing proof of their amazing distance.

The Gal'-ax-y or Milky Way, is a kind of luminous band, somewhat like a white vapour, which stretches across the sky from hor-i'-zon to horizon, and is frequently seen in a clear frosty night, when we have no moon; this is ascertained to consist entirely of stars, scattered by millions, like dust, on the dark ground of the heavens.

LESSON LV.

THE VILLAGE PASTOR.-THE VILLAGE MASTER.-
THE OLD MAN'S COMFORTS.

Near yonder copse, where once the garden smil'd,
And still where many a garden flow'r grows wild,
There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,
The village preacher's modest mansion rose.
A man he was to all the country dear,
And passing rich with forty pounds a year:
Remote from towns he ran his godly race,

Nor e'er had chang'd, nor wish'd to change, his place.
Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for pow'r,
By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour;
Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize,
More bent to raise the wretched than to rise.
His house was known to all the vagrant train;

He chid their wand'rings, but relieved their pain.
The long remember'd beggar was his guest,
Whose beard descending swept his aged breast;
The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud,
Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd;
The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay,
Sat by his fire, and talk'd the night away;
Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done,
Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were won.
Pleas'd with his guests, the good man learn'd to glow,
And quite forgot their vices in their woe;
Careless their merits, or their faults to scan,
His pity gave ere charity began.

At church, with meek, and unaffected grace,
His looks adorn'd the venerable place,
Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway;
And fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray.
The service past, around the pious man,
With ready zeal, each honest rustic ran:
E'en children follow'd with endearing wile,

And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's smile,
His ready smile a parent's warmth express'd,
Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distress'd,
To them his heart, his love, his griefs were giv'n,
But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven;
As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,
Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,
Tho' round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.

Goldsmith.

Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,
With blossom furze unprofitably gay,

There, in his noisy mansion skill'd to rule,
The village master taught his little school.