BIRDS OF PASSAGE.

Birds, joyous birds of the wandering wing!
Whence is it ye come with the flowers of spring?
"We come from the shore of the green old Nile,
From the land where the roses of Sharon smile,
From the palms that wave through the Indian sky,
From the myrrh-trees of glowing Araby.

We have swept o'er the cities, in song renown'd— Silent they lie, with the deserts around!

We have cross'd proud rivers, whose tide hath roll'd,

All dark with the warrior-blood of old;

And each worn wing hath regain'd its home,

Under the peasant's roof-tree, or monarch's dome."

And what have ye found in the monarch's dome
Since last ye traversed the blue sea's foam?
"We have found a change, we have found a pall,
And gloom o'ershadowing the banquet's hall;
And a mark on the floor, as of life-drops spilt,
Nought looks the same save the nest we built."

Oh, joyous birds, it hath still been so !
Through the halls of kings doth the tempest go
But the huts of the hamlet lie still and deep,
And the hills o'er their quiet a vigil keep.
Say, what have ye found, in the peasant's cot,
Since last ye parted from that sweet spot.

"A change we have found there, and many a change;

Faces, and footsteps, and all things change!

Gone are the heads of the silvery hairs,

And the young that were have a brow of care;
And the place is hush'd where the children played,
Nought looks the same save the nest we made."

Sad is your tale of the beautiful earth,

Birds that o'ersweep it in power and mirth;

Yet through the wastes of the trackless air
Ye have a guide, and shall we despair?

Ye, over deserts and deep have pass'd,

So shall we reach our bright home at last!

Mrs. Hemans.

Point out the nouns in the following piece. An elocutionist would make them tell in reading it, by the emphasis he would lay upon them, as he brings out each new idea to the front, and then having introduced it to the notice of the public, lets it fall again like individuals into dark oblivion.

April, welcome April! Opening month of sunny days, harbinger of merry moments, seaside trips and country jaunts, month of awakening nature. Amid thy smiles and tears shall skip the happy child, while the quiet sleepers of the valleys shall wake to greet thee. For thy changing seasons shall the cuckoo leave the shores of Spain and Italy, to sing her welcome notes in England's fertile fields. Swallows twitter with joy at thy return, chanting their requiem over the buried winter. Thrushes, too, give life to the woodlands, as they carol the cold days past; from the low bank's side creep forth the timid hedge-sparrow, to mingle her notes with the lonely robins, which are again lost in the chorus of merry voices - breathing in nature around. The insect kingdom, too, come forth to greet thee, rural month! Ants, in their hillock homes, are marshalling their troops, while flies, bees, and beetles tune their chords for the summer choruses. The innocent crocus has braved the dying breath of frosty nights, while buds burst into beauty upon the early trees, blooming and dying at their appointed times. 'Tis ever thus. How many buds of human mould have burst since last we saw thee, and graves been filled by those we loved? As spring

gives place to summer, and flowers to frost-so dies the child of tender age, and the stalwart man of sixty, ever varying, yet ever true. Beautiful picture of the dealings of the "Great I Am," with humanity, to woo them back to truth. From the winter of a lonely heart he changes our destinies to the bright sunshine of a happy home, where friends prove kind and true; yet, no change is known in him. Life and death, growth and decay, are mingled; flowers do not all bloom at once, neither does one tombstone record the age of the sleeping dust beneath the neighbouring ones. How strangely we read the volume of Nature laid out before us. We attribute to nature that which Nature's God performs. Nature is the engine without the engineer—the wires without the electric spark; and though no graves burst open, or dead come forth to warn us, God moves among us, moving all. But our spiritual eyes are dimmed by deception, so that we see but the skirts of his garments fringing the face of nature, and lighting the mind with truth. It is by truth mind speaks to mindthe eyes are the agents to the soul. -Truth lives in all things, quivering in the world of pure spirits above, or peering through the Egyptian darkness of the soul; it glows beneath the accumulated sins of man, and sighs in the hollow tones of hypocrisy; it is like gold dust scattered, but gold dust still-still precious; it dwells in the memory of good intentions, and blossoms in great achievements, won by noble motives; it makes places great and names dear. Stratford-on-Avon is a hallowed place. Howard and Wilberforce will live in memory when Alexander and Napoleon shall have faded for ever. Man's passions may change with place, views may alter with education, love give place to indifference, but truth-truth remains the same pure element, faithful to the fountain whence its birth. It foretells the hour of an eclipse of the sun, and shadows forth the dim decay of these active limbs of ours, yet hides in mercy the appointed hour when this "too, too solid flesh shall melt," when this shadow shall give place to substance this mortal to immortality; Nature to mind and to God! Bright and joyous will be that opening day, when from yonder flowerdecked grave shall spring to life eternal the child of God, and the once aching heart, that lingered there, shall throb with new powers, and mute lips shall burst forth in songs of gratitude, as the Son of Righteousness ushers the saint into the unseen world, where bloom for ever earth's ransomed ones around the throne of God!

F. Rawlings.

THIRD RULE, WITH EXAMPLES.

In poems like the "Arab," "Eugene Aram," "The old, old Clock," &c., and in prose, such as Judah's pathetic speech over Benjamin (Gen. xliv. 18-34), the adjectives take the emphatic tones. Adjectives are to nouns what the beautiful tints are to the butterfly-its very beauty; and to an elocutionist's ear they may be wild as a winter's storm,

or tender as notes in a minor key. Suppose I had to speak of a mountain's peculiarities, I might say the mountain was high, or lofty, rugged or wild, shelly or flinty, or moss-grown, or heath-covered, or fern-clad, or snow-capped: these words are adjectives, or words that give new ideas about this mountain; hoary-headed, storm-defying, weird giant basking in the sun. Now, an orator or careful speaker minds the class of adjectives he uses, thus: If he has to speak of a man's form he would say he was a fine man, but he would not say he was a beautiful man, although beautiful is an adjective as well as the word fine, because beauty belongs to the feminine gender and grandeur to the male. To speak of a lady as manly in appearance is an insult to her, as much as calling a man an effeminate one, which would of course mean that he did not know how to act the woman, while yet he was short of manliness enough to make him manly. So an apple may be nice or sweet, because we can taste it, but a house or a distant view from some mountain top would not be nice or sweet, but splendid, or picturesque, or beautiful, or a thousand other qualities, but nice or sweet, never. Thus adjectives are the beauties of a discourse the jewelled finger of the rich, or the tattered garment of the poor, according to the poverty or the wealth of the speaker's mind, or the writer's pen. Thus great care is needed in the choice of adjectives by a public speaker, and still more by a public reader. Again, a noun or the name of a being is often called the nominative in grammatical works, nominative to some verb, as: God is good. Here God is the name or noun or nominative to some essential quality in his nature is good. The name

or noun is also called the substantive, because it is the substance of something said, thus God is the substantive or the being spoken of whose essence is good. Good is an adjective, when alone, but here is good-is the predicate, or the something said of the noun God! God is good. We might use other words, and say, God is wise, or merciful, or gracious, or omnipotent (all powerful), or omnipresent (ever present), or omniscient (all-comprehensive), and any words that would take the place of these would be adjectives. We speak of the night and say, it is wet or dry, or cold or warm, or hot or cloudy, or moonlight or star-light night; these words, or any that would

take their place and make sense, would be adjectives. Or we speak of a mother, and say, she is good or kind, or indulgent, or painstaking, or over-burdened, or prayerful, or happy, or light-hearted, or care-worn, or down-cast, or weak, or foolish, or drunken, or cruel, or sinful, or penitent, or hopeful, or any word that would take the place of these and make sense would be adjectives. Things, then, that

we can see are

NOUNS,

so also are names of things that we cannot see, as thunder, odours, fears, etc.; also the names of the passions, as hatred, from the verb to hate, etc.; also all words ending in th, as truth, mirth, strength, etc.; also words ending in ness, as goodness, firmness, steadfastness, etc., while all the words. that give some new idea or qualities about these nouns would be

ADJECTIVES,

as (taking the above nouns) terrific thunder, heavenly music, delicious odours, false fears, genuine truth, merry mirth, giant strength, rational firmness, ennobled steadfastness.

THE ARAB'S FAREWELL TO HIS HORSE.

My beautiful! my beautiful! that standest meekly by,

With thy proudly arch'd and glossy neck and dark and fiery eye;
Fret not to roam the desert now with all thy wingéd speed,
I may not mount on thee again, thou'rt sold, my Arab steed.
Fret not with that impatient hoof, snuff not the breezy wind,
The further that thou fliest now, so far am I behind;

The stranger hath thy bridle-rein-thy master hath his gold,
Fleet limb'd and beautiful, farewell, thou'rt sold, my steed, thou'rt sold.

Farewell! these free untired limbs full many a mile must roam

To reach the chill and wintry sky which clouds the stranger's home; Some other hand less fond must now thy corn and bed prepare,

The silky mane I braided once must be another's care.