exultation to the jetting fluid, which was streaked with the deep red of blood, and cried;

5. "Ay, I've touched the fellow's life! It must be more than two foot of blubber that stops my iron from reaching the life of any whale that ever sculled the ocean!"

"I believe you have saved yourself the trouble of using the bayonet you have rigged for a lance," said his commander, who entered into the sport with all the ardor of one, whose youth had been chiefly passed in such pursuits; "feel your line, Master Coffin; can we haul alongside of our enemy? I like not the course he is steering, as he tows us from the schooner."

6. "'T is the creature's way, Sir," said the cockswain; "you know they need the air in their nostrils when they run, the same as a man; but lay hold, boys, and let us haul up to him."

7. The seamen now seized their whale line, and slowly drew their boat to within a few feet of the tail of the fish, whose progress became sensibly less rapid, as he grew weak with the loss of blood. In a few minutes he stopped running, and appeared to roll uneasily on the water, as if suffering the agony of death.

"Shall we pull in and finish him, Tom?" cried Barnstable; "a few sets from your bayonet would do it."

The cockswain stood examining his game with cool discretion, and replied, "There's no occasion for disgracing ourselves by using a soldier's weapon in taking a whale. Starn off, Sir; starn off! the creature's in his flurry!"

8. The warning of the prudent cockswain was promptly obeyed, and the boat cautiously drew off to a distance, leaving to the animal a clear space while under its dying agonies.

9. From a state of perfect rest, the terrible monster threw its tail on high as when in sport, but its blows were trebledin rapidity and violence, till all was hid from view by a pyramid of foam, that was deeply dyed with blood. The roarings of the fish were like the bellowings of a herd of bulls, and, to one who was ignorant of the fact, it would have appeared as if a thousand monsters were engaged in deadly combat behind the bloody mist that obstructed the view. Gradually these effects subsided, and, when the discolored water again settled down to the long-and regular swell of

the ocean, the fish was seen exhausted and yielding passively to its fate. As life departed, the enormous black mass rolled to one side, and, when the white and glistening skin of the belly became apparent, the seamen well knew that their victory was achieved.

LESSON LXII. Life.

1. WE toil for renown, yet we sigh for repose;

We are happy in prospect, yet restless to-day;
And we look back on life, from its dawn to its close,
To feel that we 've squandered its treasures away.

2. Though bound by obstructions of clay to our sphere,
Our hearts may aspire to a better to rise;
But evil the weight is that fixes them here,

For frail are our pinions, and far are the skies.

3. We love, - but the object has withered and died,
We are left as a wreck on a desolate shore,
To remember with grief as we gaze on the tide,
That the cherished, the lost, and beloved, are no more.

4. The lost, - the lamented! Ye cannot return,
To learn how our souls were with yours interwove;
To see the vain flowers that we strew on the urn,
Or behold from our sorrow how deep was our love.

LESSON LXIII. The River.

1. RIVER! River! little River!
Bright you sparkle on your way;
O'er the yellow pebbles dancing,
Through the flowers and foliage glancing,
Like a child at play.

2. River! River! swelling River!
On you rush o'er rough and smooth, -

Louder, faster, brawling, leaping
Over rocks, by rose-banks sweeping,
Like impetuous youth.

3. River! River! brimming River!
Broad, and deep, and still as time;
Seeming still, yet still in motion,
Tending onward to the ocean,
Just like mortal prime.

4. River! River! rapid River!
Swifter now you slip away;
Swift and silent as an arrow,
Through a channel dark and narrow,
Like life's closing day.

5. River! River! headlong River !
Down you dash into the sea ;
Sea, that line hath never sounded,
Sea, that voyage hath never rounded,
Like eternity.

LESSON LXIV. Reputation.

1. THE desire of praise, when it is discreet and moderate, is always attended with emulation and a strong desire of excelling; and, so long as we can stop here, there is no harm done to ourselves or others.

2. St. Paul exhorts Christians to follow, not only what. soever things are right, but whatsoever things are of good report. The love of reputation, therefore, if it be not joined to a bad disposition, will scarcely of itself lead us to immoral actions.

3. Yet the things, which the world generally admires and praises most, are not the things in their own nature most valuable. They are those bright abilities and fair endowments, which relate to the present life, and terminate with it.

4. Christian virtues are of a more silent and retired nature. God and good angels approve them; but the busy world overlooks them. So that he who principally affects

ANECDOTE OF DWIGHT AND DENNIE. 137

popular approbation, runs some danger of living and dying well known to others and little known to himself; ignorant of the state of his own soul, and forgetful of the account which he has to render up to God.

LESSON LXV. Anecdote of Dwight and Dennie.

1. SOME few years since, as Dr. Dwight was travelling through New Jersey, he chanced to stop at the stage hotel, in one of its populous towns, for the night. At a late hour of the same, arrived also at the inn Mr. Dennie, who had the misfortune to learn from the landlord, that his beds were all paired with lodgers, except one occupied by the celebrated Dr. Dwight. Show me to his apartment, exclaimed Dennie; although I am a stranger to the Reverend Doctor, perhaps I may bargain with him for my lodgings. The landlord accordingly waited on Mr. Dennie to the Doctor's room, and there left him to introduce himself.

2. The Doctor, although in his night-gown, cap, and slippers, and just ready to resign himself to the refreshing arms of Somnus, politely requested the strange intruder to be seated. Struck with the physiognomy of his companion, he then unbent his austere brow, and commenced a literary conversation.

3. The names of Washington, Franklin, Rittenhouse, and a host of distinguished and literary characters, for some time gave a zest and interest to their conversation, until Dr. Dwight chanced to mention Dennie. "Dennie, the editor of the Port Folio," says the Doctor in a rhapsody, "is the Addison of the United States, - the Father of American belles lettres. But, Sir," continued he, " is it not astonishing, that a man of such genius, fancy, and feeling, should abandon himself to the inebriating bowl?"

4. "Sir," said Dennie, "you are mistaken. I have been intimately acquainted with Dennie for several years; and I never knew or saw him intoxicated." "Sir," says the Doctor, " you err. I have my information from a particular friend; I am confident that I am right and you are wrong." Dennie now ingeniously changed the conversation to the clergy, remarking, that Abercrombie and Mason were among

the most distinguished divines; "nevertheless, he considered Dr. Dwight, President of Yale College, the most learned theologian, the first logician, and the greatest poet that America has produced. But, Sir," continued Dennie, "there are traits in his character, unworthy of so wise and great a man, and of the most detestable description; he is the greatest bigot and dogmatist of the age!"

5. "Sir," says the Doctor, "you are grossly mistaken; I am intimately acquainted with Dr. Dwight, and I know to the contrary." "Sir," says Dennie, "you are mistaken; I have it from an intimate acquaintance of his, who I am confident would not tell me an untruth." "No more slan-: der!" says the Doctor; "I am Dr. Dwight, of whom you speak!" "And I, too," exclaimed Dennie, "am Mr. Dennie, of whom you spoke!"

The astonishment of Dr. Dwight may be better conceived than told. Suffice it to say, they mutually shook hands, and were extremely happy in each other's acquaintance.

LESSON LXVI. On the Death of Professor Fisher,

Ино was lost, with many other passengers, in the Albion, wrecked on the coast of Ireland, in 1822. He was a Professor in Yale College, and of distinguished abilities. The second verse refers to the fact that he was going to Europe to prosecute scientific inquiries.

1. THE breath of air, that stirs the harp's soft string,

Floats on to join the whirlwind and the storm ;
The drops of dew, exhaled from flowers of spring,
Rise and assume the tempest's threatening form;
The first mild beam of morning's glorious sun,
Ere night, is sporting in the lightning's flash;
And the smooth stream, that flows in quiet on,
Moves but to aid the overwhelming dash
That wave and wind can muster, when the might
Of earth, and air, and sea, and sky unite.

2. So science whispered in thy charmed ear,

And radiant learning beckoned thee away. The breeze was music to thee, and the clear Beam of thy morning promised a bright day.