4. The jessamine clambers in flowers o'er the thatch, And the swallow chirps sweet from her nest in the wall;

All trembling with transport, he raises the latch,
And the voices of loved ones reply to his call.

5. A father bends o'er him with looks of delight;
His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm tear;
And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss unite

With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear.

6. The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast; Joy quickens his pulses-all hardships seem o'er, And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest: "O God! thou hast blessed me; I ask for no more."

7. Ah, what is that flame which now bursts on his eye? Ah, what is that sound which now 'larms on his

ear?

'Tis the lightning's red gleam, painting hell on the sky!

'Tis the crashing of thunders, the groan of the sphere !

8. He springs from his hammock-he flies to the deck! Amazement confronts him with images dire;

Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a wreckThe masts fly in splinters—the shrouds are on fire!

9. Like mountains the billows tremendously swell; In vain the lost wretch calls on Mercy to save; Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell,

And the Death-angel flaps his broad wings o'er the wave!

10. O sailor-boy, woe to thy dream of delight!

In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss. Where, now, is the picture that Fancy touched bright

Thy parents' fond pressure, and Love's honeyed kiss?

11. O sailor-boy, sailor-boy, never again

Shall home, love, or kindred thy wishes repay! Unblessed and unhonored, down deep in the main Full many a fathom, thy frame shall decay.

12. No tomb shall e'er plead to femembrance for thee, Or redeem form or frame from the merciless surge; But the white foam of waves shall thy winding-sheet be,

And winds, in the midnight of winter, thy dirge!

13. On a bed of green sea-flowers thy limbs shall be

laid;

Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow; Of thy fair yellow locks, threads of amber be made; And every part suit to thy mansion below.

14. Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away, And still the vast waters above thee shall roll; Earth loses thy pattern for ever and aye.

O sailor-boy, sailor-boy, peace to thy soul!

William Dimond.

FOR PREPARATION.-I. For what people would this poem possess the most interest? (For a people living on an island-Great Britain-and furnishing multitudes of sailors? How many friends and relatives on that island have occasion every year to mourn those lost by shipwreck !) Do you think that the author of this poem was an American, or an Englishman ?

II. Ee'-sta-sy, hỏn'-eyed (hŭn'id), mēr'-çi-less, mèm'-o-ry.

III. Of what two words is midnight composed, and what does each mean? "O God! thou hast blessed me," etc.-whose words do the quotation-marks here indicate? "Larms "-what is omitted? ("Larums his ear is another reading of this passage.) "Parents' fond pressure "—what does the s' indicate? What effect on the meaning, if it were changed to 's? 66 Many a fathom"-what does a mean after many? (It makes us think of each one of the number, and therefore makes it seem larger.) "Shall e'er plead "-what is omitted in e'er?

IV. Hammock, watchworn, jessamine, clambers (how can a plant be said to clamber?), transport, fathom, amber-threads, thy pattern, "for ever and aye," red coral.

V. Do you pronounce wind so as to rhyme with mind? (see first stanza.) Memory stood sidewise." (Memory is personified here, or described as a person.) How could she stand so as to conceal the thorns, and show only the roses? Do all roses grow on thorny bushes? How is Fancy personified (as an angel) in the third stanza? What is meant by "groan of the sphere"? “Unblessed" (i. e., by parents, or by the clergyman) " and unhonored" (i. e., without the usual ceremonies in honor of the dead-without tombstone, etc.). Is this not a dreary poem-without any consolation?

XXXVIII. HOW MUCH EMPHASIS.

The degree of emphasis of all kinds varies with the relative worth and spirit of the ideas. Mere facts call only for force, time, and slide enough to distinguish the more important words from the others.

"How many were with you on your excursion?" "Twenty'."

"Where did you go`?" "Where'? To the moun

tains'."

Here the distinctive force, time, and slide are all moderate. But when earnest feeling is added to the facts, the degree of emphasis increases accordingly. "Did you

enjoy' the mountain-scenery?" "Oh, EVER so much! It was so w-I-L-D' and G-R-A-N-D'! I never saw anything SO MAGNIFICENT'.”

Here the "force" grows louder with the earnestness, the "slides" are longer, and the "time" (when applicable) is longer. But gentle ideas, tenderness, and sadness require subdued force-softer than that given to matter-of-fact ideas. The slides, also, are a half-tone shorter. But the time is longer, and fills more s-p-a-c-e, in emphasizing sacred or sad parts.

EXAMPLE.

Paul had never risen' from his little bed'.

"Floy! what is that?"

"Where', dearest?" "There', at the bottom of the bed." "There's nothing there, except papa'.' The figure lifted up its head, and rose, and, coming to the bedside, said: " My-own-boy! Don't you know'

me?"

"Don't be so sorry' for me', dear papa. Indeed, I am quite happy. Now, lay me down. And, Floy', come close to me, and let me see you`.”

"How fast the river runs, between its green banks and the rushes, Floy! But it's very near-the-sea' now. I hear the waves! They always' said so`!”

Presently, he told her that the motion of the boat upon the stream was lulling him to rest. Now, the boat was out at sea'; and now, there was a shore' before him. Who' stood on the bank? He put his hands together, as he had been used to do at his prayers'. He did not remove his arms' to do it, but they saw him fold them so

behind his sister's neck'.

"Mamma is like y-o-u',

Floy; I know her by the face! The light about the head is shining-on-me as I go!"

From "Dombey and Son," by Dickens.

XXXIX. THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS.

1. The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,

Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sear.

Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead;

They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread.

The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs

the jay,

And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.

2. Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood

In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sister

hood?

Alas! they all are in their graves-the gentle race of

flowers

Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good

of ours.

The rain is falling where they lie; but the cold November rain

Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.