afforded him for examining an old and strange city, and carefully observing men and manners. He visited every part of Amsterdam, noting its people, and their acts and motives. This, to an inquiring mind like Jonathan's, was, of all things, the most useful, and he grew wiser every day.

22. The "Peggy" was at length ready, and Jonathan stepped on board of her with a light heart. The homeward voyage was as prosperous as the outward one had been; and when our Yankee voyager returned, his mother and sisters were as delighted to see him as if he had brought home all the wealth of Amsterdam.

23. He spent his life on the very spot where his father had lived before him. His neighbors were very fond of listening to his wonderful accounts of all he had seen in the "old country; " and when any one of them manifested any discontent with his humble lot, Jonathan was sure to remind him of poor Mr. Kannitverstan, of Amsterdam, his splendid mansion, his great East India ship, his ragnificent window curtains, and-his grave.

THE DOVE AND THE TOAD.

1. THE pond was clear, the pond was still;
A dove dipped in her pretty bill;
Then curling up her feet so red,
And with her whirring wings outspread,
Straight towards the tree top sped;
A tree toad, seated on the bough,
Enjoys the cooling shadows now.

2. "Sir Toad, go to the pond," said she,
"If you a pretty thing would see.

I stooped to drink the water cool,
And Ó, I saw within the pool
The fairest dove that ever flew;
Go down, and you will see it too.
The swan herself is not more white,
Nor is her neck so graceful quite.

3. "He bended from the soft blue sky
Which in the pretty pond doth lie,
And looked at me with bright red eye;
And then, when I dipped in my bill,
He stooped down nearer, nearer still,
And then his bill, it met my own
The dear, the sweet, the pretty one.
As oft he bended from the blue,

I touched his bill - he touched mine too.
Go down; perhaps he'll bill with you."

4. Down to the ground the tree toad dropped,
And to the pretty pond he hopped;
And when again he climbed the tree,
The dove said, "Tell me, did you see
As fair a thing as well might be?"

5. "O, yes," he croaked, in grating tone,
"I saw a handsome thing, I own;
But you did not describe it well:
Listen to me, and I will tell
Just how it looked, for I have been
There oftentimes, and oft have seen
That handsome creature there before,
All beautifully speckled o'er;
With such a brilliant, knowing eye,
Brighter than star in midnight sky.
Indeed, he was not white at all,
But browner than the leaves in fall;
And what was more than all beside,
His graceful form and mouth so wide!"

MORAL AND SELECT SENTENCES:

1. THOUGH religion removes not all the evils of life, though it promises no continuance of undisturbed prosperity, yet, if it mitigates the evils which necessarily belong to our state, it may justly be said to give rest to them who labor and are heavy laden.

2. No station is so high, no power so great, no character so unblemished, as to exempt men from being attacked by rashness, malice, or envy.

3. The fine arts promote benevolence by uniting different classes in the same elegant pleasures; they enforce submision to government by cherishing love of order; and by inspiring delicacy of feeling, they make regular government a double blessing.

4. Chaucer most frequently describes things as they are; Spenser, as we wish them to be; Shakspeare, as they would be; and Milton, as they ought to be.

5. From the right exercise of our intellectual powers, arises one of the chief sources of our happiness.

6. I have always preferred cheerfulness to mirth. The latter I consider as an act, the former as a habit of the mind. Mirth is short and transient cheerfulness fixed and permanent. Those are often raised into the greatest transports of mirth, who are subject to the greatest depressions of melancholy.

7. On the contrary, cheerfulness, though it does not give the mind such an exquisite gladness, prevents us from falling into any depth of sorrow. Mirth is like a flash of lightning that breaks through a gloom of clouds, and glitters for a moment; che fulness keeps up a kind of daylight in

the mind, and fills it with a steady and perpetual serenity.

8. Sincerity is, to speak as we think, to do as we pretend and profess, to perform and make good what we promise, and really to be what we seem to be.

9. It is pleasant to be virtuous and good, because that is to excel many others; it is pleasant to grow better, because that is to excel ourselves; it is pleasant to command our appetites and passions, and to keep them in due order, within the bounds of reason and religion, because that is empire.

10. At the same time, that I think discretion the most useful talent that a man can be master of, I look upon cunning to be the accomplishment of little, mean, ungenerous minds. Discretion points out the noblest ends to us, and pursues the proper and most laudable methods of attaining them; cunning has only private, selfish aims, and sticks at nothing which may make them succeed. Discretion has large and extended views; and, like a well-formed eye, commands a whole horizon; cunning is a kind of short sightedness, that discovers the minutest objects which are near at hand, but is not able to discern things at a distance.

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11. All is magnificent in the objects of religion. All her views comport with the highest faculties of our nature. Her features awaken our most lively sensibility. Delicious sentiments mingle themselves with the grand thoughts she inspires. She displays her celestial origin her celestial destination. It is not to small portions of time a few years, a few generations, a few ages-that our speculations are here limited; they embrace eternity. They are not finite beings, like ourselves, with whom we hold intercourse. It is with a Being who has for attributes, absolute perfection; for limits, immensity itself.

TESTIMONY.

1. "How can I get a conveyance to meet the stage?" asked Mr. Holiday.

The innkeeper said he had a wagon, but it was gone away. He expected it back every minute, for it had only gone two or three miles away; and as soon as it returned, Mr. Holiday and his son might have it.

2. "Is there not some other wagon or chaise in the place?" said Rollo's father.

"No," replied the innkeeper, "excepting Squire Williams's, and his has gone a journey."

"How much should you charge for your wagon?" asked Mr. Holiday.

"I

3. "O, I don't know," said the innkeeper, with a swaggering air, walking about the bar room. shall not charge you any more than is fair. We can settle it when we get there."

"How far is it?" said Mr. Holiday.

"O, five miles, - about."

4. "Well," said Rollo's father, "I am sorry the wagon is not here. But come, Rollo, we will go out and see what we can find. I may possibly find some mode of conveyance," he added, addressing the tavernkeeper, "and at any rate, I will keep a lookout for your wagon as it comes back."

5. As Rollo and his father walked away from the door, Rollo asked where they were going.

"I am going to see if I can't find another wagon," replied his father.

"But the man told you," said Rollo, "that there was not another wagon in the place."

6. "But I don't believe him, because I don'+ know what his character is, and his appearance is rather against him. So I am going to inquire for myself," said Mr. Holiday.