HEATH.

Where the wild bee comes with a murmuring song,
Pilfering sweets as he roams along,
I uprear my purple bell:

List'ning the freeborn eagle's cry,
Marking the heathcock's glancing eye,
On the mountain side I dwell.

The echoes yet the notes prolong,

When one, who oft o'er hill and dell,
Had sought the spots where flow'rets dwell,
And knew their name and functions well,
And could of all their changes tell,
Thus answer'd to their song:

Loveliest children of earth,

Of more than each rainbow hue,
Of beauty coeval with birth,

And fragrance found only in you!

Oh! that like you I could live,
Free from all malice and strife,

That each thought and each pulse I could give
To the bountiful Giver of Life.

Until earth shall wax cold and decay,

You shall ever triumphantly shine,

And on leaf and on petal display

The work of an artist divine.'

SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY
IN CHURCH.

beau'-ti-fy, to make beautiful
par-ish'-ion-ers, people of a parish
res-pons'-es, answers
i-tin'-er-ant, going about from place
to place

out-do', to beat, to excel
pe-cu-li-ar-i-ty, something singular
length'-en, to make longer
re-mark-a-ble, worthy of notice

di-ver'-sion, amusement
rid-ic'-u-lous, deserving contempt
sin-gu-lar'-i-ties, uncommon points
of character

foil, a thing used to set off another
to advantage
blem'-ish, an imperfection
chan-cel, the eastern end of a
church

My friend Sir Roger, being a good churchman, has beautified the inside of his church with several texts of his own choosing. He has likewise given a handsome pulpit-cloth, and railed in the communion table at his own expense. He has often told me that at his coming to his estate he found his parishioners very irregular; and that, in order to make them kneel and join in the responses, he gave every one of them a hassock and a Common Prayerbook; and at the same time employed an itinerant singing master, who goes about the country for that purpose, to instruct them rightly in the tunes of the psalms, upon which they now very much value themselves, and indeed outdo most of the country churches that I have ever heard.

As Sir Roger is landlord to the whole congregation, he keeps them in very good order, and will suffer nobody to sleep in it besides himself; for if by chance he has been surprised into a short nap at sermon, upon recovering out of it he stands up and looks about him; and if he sees anybody else nodding, either wakes them himself or sends his servants to them. Several other of the old knight's peculiarities break out upon these occasions. Sometimes he will be lengthening out a verse in the singing psalms half a minute after the rest of the congregation have done with it; sometimes, when

he is pleased with the matter of his devotion, he pronounces Amen three or four times to the same prayer, and sometimes stands up when everybody else is upon his knees, to count the congregation, or see if any of his tenants are missing.

I was yesterday very much surprised to hear my old friend, in the midst of the service, calling out to one John Matthews to mind what he was about, and not disturb the congregation. This John Matthews, it seems, is remarkable for being an idle fellow, and at that time was kicking his heels for his diversion. This authority of the knight, though exerted in that odd manner which accompanies him in all circumstances of life, has a very good effect upon the parish, who are not polite enough to see anything ridiculous in his behaviour; besides that, the general good sense and worthiness of his character make his friends observe these little singularities as foils that rather set off than blemish his good qualities.

As soon as the sermon is finished nobody presumes to stir till Sir Roger is gone out of the church. The knight walks down from his seat in the chancel between a double row of his tenants, that stand bowing to him on each side; and every now and then enquires how such a one's wife, or mother, or son, or father do, whom he does not see at church; which is understood as a secret reprimand to the person that is absent. Addison.

COMPOUND MULTIPLICATION AND DIVISION.

THE TOAD'S JOURNAL.

jour'-nal, a daily account
an-ti'-qui-ties, things remarkable
on account of their great age
re-nown'-ed, famous
trav-el-ler, one who travels
en-tomb'-ed, buried
re-pose', rest

man'-sion, a large house
rep'-tile, a creeping animal
an-ti-qua-ri-an, one who studies
antiquities

con-ceal'-ed, hidden

hi-e-ro-glyph'-ics, pictures used
instead of words
re-veal', to make known
brev'-i-ty, shortness
vast'-ly, greatly

cramp, a sudden contraction of the
muscles

doze (v.), to slumber
kin'-dred, relationship
dis-con-cert'-ed, put to confusion
void (n.), an empty space

In a land for antiquities greatly renowned,
A traveller had dug wide and deep underground,
A temple, for ages entombed, to disclose-
When lo! he disturbed in its secret repose

A toad, from whose journal it plainly appears
It had lodged in that mansion some thousands of
years.

The roll, which this reptile's long history records,
A treat to the sage antiquarian affords:

The sense, by obscure hieroglyphics concealed,
Deep learning, at length, with long labour, revealed.
The first thousand years as a specimen take ·-
The dates are omitted, for brevity's sake.

'Crawled forth from some rubbish, and winked with one eye;

Half opened the other, but could not tell why;
Stretched out my left leg, as it felt rather queer,
Then drew all together, and slept for a year.

Awakened-felt chilly--crept under a stone;
Was vastly contented with living alone.
One toe became wedged in a stone like a peg,
Could n't get it away-had the cramp in my leg;
Began half to wish for a neighbour at hand
To loosen the stone, which was fast in the sand;

Pulled hard-then dozed, as I found 'twas no use;-
Awoke the next summer, and lo! it was loose.
Crawled forth from the stone when completely awake;
Crept into a corner, and grinned at a snake.
Retreated, and found that I needed repose;
Curled up my damp limbs and prepared for a doze:
Fell sounder to sleep than was usual before,
And did not awake for a century or more;
But had a sweet dream, as I rather believe :-
Methought it was light, and a fine summer's eve;
And I in some garden deliciously fed

:

In the pleasant moist shade of a strawberry bed.
There fine speckled creatures claimed kindred with me,
And others that hopped, most enchanting to see.
Here long I regaled with emotion extreme;-
Awoke-disconcerted to find it a dream;
Grew pensive-discovered that life is a load;
Began to get weary of being a toad;

Was fretful at first, and then a few tears.'-
Here ends the account of the first thousand years.

MORAL.

It seems that life is all a void,
On selfish thoughts alone employed:
That length of days is not a good,
Unless their use be understood d;
While if good deeds one year engage,
That may be longer than an age:
But if a year in trifles go,

Perhaps you'd spend a thousand so:
Time cannot stay to make us wise--
We must improve it as it flies.*

Jane Taylor.

*The above piece was written in reference to the statement of Belzoni, the celebrated Eastern traveller, that he found a live toad during one of his excavations in Egypt, which, according to him, must have been embedded in the solid rock several thousand years.