12. Happy if their track be found Never on forbidden ground;

Happy if they sink not in

Quick and treacherous sands of sin.
Ah! that thou couldst know thy joy,

Ere it passes, barefoot boy!

3. For science and for books, he said,
He never had a wish;

No school to him was worth a fig,
Except a "school" of fish.

4. This single-minded fisherman,
A double calling had,-

To tend his flocks in winter-time,
In summer fish for shad.

5. In short, this honest fisherman
All other toils forsook;

And though no vagrant man was be,
He lived by "hook and crook."

6. All day that fisherman would sit
Upon an ancient log,

And gaze into the water, like
Some sedentary frog.

7. A cunning fisherman was he;
His angles all were right;

And when he scratched his aged poll,
You'd know he'd got a bite.

8. To charm the fish he never spoke,
Although his voice was fine;
He found the most convenient way
Was just to "drop a line."

9. And many a "gudgeon" of the pond, If made to speak to-day,

Would own, with grief, this angler had
A mighty "taking way."

10. One day, while fishing on the log,
He mourned his want of luck,--

When, suddenly, he felt a bite,

And jerking

caught a duck!

11. Alas! that day, the fisherman
Had taken too much grog;
And being but a landsman, too,
He could n't "keep the log."

12. In vain he strove with all his might, And tried to gain the shore;

Down, down he went to feed the fish
He'd baited oft before!

13. The moral of this mournful tale To all is plain and clear: —

A single "drop too much" of rum,
May make a watery bier.

14. And he who will not "sign the pledge,"
And keep his promise fast,

May be, in spite of fate, a stark
Cold-water man at last!

John G. Saxe.

LESSON 45.

A MOSQUITO HUNT.

IN the sleeping apartments of India, great care is taken

to secure coolness. The beds, which are always large and hard, are generally placed as nearly as may be in the very middle of the apartment, in the line of the freest thorough draught which open doors and windows can command. Round each bed is suspended a gauze curtain, without which sleep would be as effectually murdered as ever it was by any tragedy king. For, if even one mosquito contrives to gain admission into your fortress, you may, for that night, bid good-by not only to sleep, but to temper, and almost to health. I defy the most resolute, the most serene, or the most robust person that ever lived between the tropics, to pass the whole night in bed, within the curtains of which a single invader has entered, and not to be found, when the morning comes, in a high fever, with every atom of his patience exhausted.

2. The process of getting into bed, in India, is one requiring great dexterity, and not a little scientific engineering. As the curtains are carefully tucked in close under the mattress, all round, you must decide at once at what part of the bed you choose to make your entry. Having surveyed the ground, and clearly made up your

mind on this point, you take in your right hand a kind of brush, or switch, made of a horse's tail; or, if you be tolerably expert, a towel may answer the purpose. With your left hand you then seize that part of the skirt of the curtain which is thrust under the bedding at the place you intend to enter, and by the light of the cocoanut-oil lamp you must drive away the mosquitoes from your immediate neighborhood by whisking round your horse-tail switch; and, before proceeding farther, you must be sure you have effectually driven the enemy back.

3. If you fail in this matter, your repose is effectually dashed for that night; for these provoking animals appear to know perfectly well what is going to happen, and assemble with the vigor and bravery of the flank companies appointed to head a storming party, ready in one instant to rush into the breach, careless alike of horses' tails and towels. Let it be supposed, however, that you have successfully beaten back the enemy. You next promptly form an opening, not a hair's breadth larger than your own person, into which you leap, like harlequin through a hoop, closing up, with all the speed of fear, the gap through which you have shot yourself into your sleeping quarters.

4. If all these arrangements have been well managed, you may amuse yourself for a while by scoffing at and triumphing over the clouds of baffled mosquitoes outside, who dash themselves against the meshes of the net, in vain attempts to enter your sanctum. If, however, for your sins, any one of their number has succeeded in entering the place along with yourself, he is not so silly as to betray his presence while you are flushed with victory, wide awake, and armed with the means of his destruction. Far from this, he allows you to chuckle over your fancied great doings, and to lie down with all the complacency and fallacious security of your con

quest, and under the entire assurance of enjoying a tranquil night's rest. Alas, for such presumptuous hopes! Scarcely have you dropped gradually from these visions of the day to the yet more blessed visions of the night, and the last faint effort of your eyelids has been overcome by the gentle pressure of sleep, when, in deceitful slumber, you hear something like the sound of trumpets.

5. Straightway your imagination is kindled, and you fancy yourself in the midst of a fierce fight, and struggling, not against petty insects, but against armed men and thundering cannon. In the excitement of the mortal conflict of your dream, you awake, not displeased, mayhap, to find that you are safe and snug in bed. But in the next instant what is your dismay, when you are again saluted by the odious notes of a mosquito close to your ear! The perilous fight of the previous dream, in which your honor had become pledged, and your life at hazard, is all forgotten in the pressing reality of this waking calamity. You resolve to do or die, and not to sleep, or even attempt to sleep, till you have finally overcome the

enemy.

6. Just as you have made this manly resolve, and, in order to deceive the foe, have pretended to be fast asleep, the wary mosquito is again heard circling over you at a distance, but gradually coming nearer and nearer in a spiral descent, and at each turn gaining upon you one inch, till at length he almost touches your ear, and, as you suppose, is about to settle upon it. With a sudden jerk, and full of wrath, you bring up your hand and give yourself such a box on the ear as would have staggered the best friend you have in the world, and might have crushed twenty thousand mosquitoes had they been there congregated. Being convinced that you have now done for him, you lie down again.

7. In less than ten seconds, however, the very same