exertion, and trembling from the sudden view of the dreadful destruction to which he is exposed. His knife is worn half-way to the haft. He can hear the voices, but not the words, of his terror-stricken companions below. What a moment! what a meagre chance to escape destruction! There is no retracing his steps. It is impossible to put his hands into the same notch with his feet and retain his slender hold a moment. His companions instantly perceive this new and fearful dilemma, and await his fall with emotions that "freeze their young blood." He is too high to ask for his father and mother, his brothers and sisters, to come and witness or avert his destruction. But one of his companions anticipates his desire. Swift as the wind, he bounds down the channel and tells the situation of the daring boy to his father's anxious ear. Minutes of almost eternal length roll on, and there are hundreds standing in that rocky channel, and hundreds on the bridge above, all holding their breath and awaiting the fearful catastrophe. The poor boy hears the hum of new and numerous voices both above and below. He can just distinguish the tones of his father, who is shouting with all the energy of despair-"William! William! Don't look down! Your mother, and Henry, and Harriet, are all here, praying for you! Don't look down! Keep your eyes towards the top!" The boy didn't look down. eye is fixed like a flint towards heaven, and his young heart on Him who reigns there. His Again he grasps his knife. He cuts another notch, and another foot is added to the hundreds that remove him from the reach of human help from below. How carefully he uses his wasting blade! How anxiously he selects the softest places in that vast pier! How he avoids every flinty grain! How he economizes his physical powers, resting a moment at every gain he cuts! How every motion is watched from below! There stand his father, mother, brother, and sister, on the very spot where, if he falls, he will not fall alone. The sun is half-way down in the west. The lad has made fifty additional niches in that mighty wall, and now finds himself directly under the middle of that vast arch of rock, earth, and trees. He must cut his way in a new direction to get from this overhanging mountain. The inspiration of hope is in his bosom; its vital heat is fed by the increasing shouts of hundreds above upon cliffs and trees, and others who stand with ropes in their hands upon the bridge above, or with ladders below. Fifty more holes must be cut before the longest rope can reach him. His wasting blade strikes again into the limestone. The boy is emerging painfully, foot by foot, from under that lofty arch. Spliced ropes are in the hands of those who are leaning over the outer edge of the bridge. Two minutes more, and all will be over. That blade is worn to the last half-inch. The boy's head reels; his eyes are starting from their sockets. His last hope is dying in his heart: his life must hang upon the next step he cuts. That notch is his last. At the last effort he makes, his knife-his faithful knife-falls from his little nerveless hand, and, ringing down the precipice, falls at his mother's feet. An involuntary groan of despair runs like a deathknell through the channel below, and all is still as a grave. At a height of nearly three hundred feet, the devoted boy lifts his hopeless heart and closing eyes to commend his soul to God. 'Tis but a moment-there! one foot swings off!-he is reeling -trembling-toppling over into eternity. Hark! -a shout falls on his ear from above! The man who is lying with half his length over the bridge, has caught a glimpse of the boy's head and shoulders. Quick as thought the noosed rope is within reach. of the sinking youth. No one breathes. With a faint convulsive effort the swooning boy drops his arm into the noose. Darkness comes over him, and with the words "God!" and "Mother!" whispered on his lips, the tightening rope lifts him out of his last hollow notch. Not a lip moves while he is dangling over that fearful abyss; but when a sturdy Virginian reaches down and draws up the lad, and holds him up in his arms before the tearful, breathless multitude-such shouting, and such leaping and weeping for joy, never greeted a human being so recovered from the yawning gulf of eternity.—Elihu Burritt. A-but-ments, supports on which arches rest. Pre-de-ces'-sors, those who have gone before in the same capacity or office. As-pir-a'-tion, an ardent wish or desire DICTATION EXERCISE. The sloth is destined by nature to live and to die in the trees; and, to do justice to him, naturalists must examine him in this upper element. He is a scarce and solitary animal. He inhabits remote forests, where cruelly stinging ants and scorpions, and swamps, and innumerable thorny shrubs and bushes, obstruct the steps of civilised man. THE falcon is one of the boldest, the most elegant, and the most noble of the birds of prey. In captivity the falcon is a docile bird, easily trained to pursue game and to return at the call of its master. The celebrated peregrine falcon is the species usually trained for "falconry." Falconry, or "hawking," was a favourite amusement among the Anglo-Saxons, and survived in England until the time of the Commonwealth. It is still practised among the Arabs in Algeria. "When the falcon comes within sight of her quarry she bounds upwards, every stroke of the |