waxed more fierce, her exertions became still more violent; till at last, with a tremendous spring, she landed on her feet, about ten paces from the pile, and entreated the bystanders to save her, from what she felt was too great a trial. The Brahmins, however, insisted on her re-mounting the pile, and undergoing what was her own choice. She refused, and was instantly cut down with a sword, and thrown upon the flaming pile. It so happened that several Mussulmans were present, who, abhorring the inhuman acts of the Brahmins, commenced upbraiding them: words and abuse ensued, till the Mussulmans, enraged, drew their swords, cut down one and wounded several. The multitude of spectators soon dispersed; and thus was finished a ceremony, at which every feeling mind must revolt with disgust.-Learning to Act.

THE BEAUTY OF SCENERY.

THE rich glow of an autumnal sun, just sinking in the west, tinged the tops of the magnificent trees-some of them the growth of centuries,-which ornamented the extensive park. Herds of deer were tranquilly browsing or reposing around, whilst, as they advanced, the graceful fawn, starting up from their feet, flew with the swiftness of light towards its mother. Conversing familiarly, the two friends at last descended by a precipitous path to a deep glen, when an exclamation of delight and astonishment burst from Robert's lips at the scene which suddenly opened before them. Falling in cascade from an opposing rock, and then rushing along the bottom of the

valley, an impetuous mountain-stream forced its way over every obstacle, and with its noise awoke the echoes around. Crags of a thousand varied forms rose up amidst numbers of mountain shrubs, plants, and lichens; whilst here and there the light and elegant birch and the ash had taken possession of the rich beds of soil formed by time in the crevices of the rocks. То the south the valley opened, and disclosed an extended and beautiful prospect. Robert and his friend stood on a sort of natural terrace which overlooked this lovely valley. The soft, velvet, and well-kept turf under their feet, and the rustic seats dispersed in well-chosen situations, alone showed that art had anything to do with so wild a scene.

"This spot," said William, "has been my delight as long as I can remember anything; these seats, and that bridge thrown across the chasm, where the brook falls into the cascade, are very early efforts of my genius; and yet, you see, I am still proud of them, since I brought you here to admire." "O, Rasselas! prince of this happy valley," said Robert, as he threw himself into one of the moss-grown seats, "say, does thy mind never take its flight beyond these boundaries, and long to see what the world really is? Do no thoughts of love, of ambition, of curiosity disturb the quiet current of thy soul?" 66 Sage Imlac!" replied William, laughing, “no mind is much employed on the present: recollections and hope fill up almost all our moments. Hope peculiarly belongs to youth; and I will confess to thee, that almost every corner and crevice of my royal soul is now occupied by bright dreams of the future.Emily, a Tale.

THE BROOK.

WITH many a curve my banks I fret,--
By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow, weed, and mallow,

I slip, I slide, I gleam, I glance
Among my skimming swallows;
I make the netted sunbeams dance
Against my sandy shallows.

I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river:

For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling,

S. IV.

And here and there a snowy flake
Upon me as I travel,

With many a silver water-break
Above the golden gravel.

I draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river:

For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
I slide by hazel covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots,
That grow for happy lovers;

C

I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars,
I loiter round my cresses.

And out again I curve, and flow,
To join the brimming river:
For men may come, and men may go,
But I go on for ever.-Tennyson.

EDWARD THE FIRST.

EDWARD heard on the same day of the death of his father and of his son; and exclaimed that the loss of the first was most terrible. "For," said he, "I may

have other sons, but I can never have another father." Reflect on the justness of this sentiment, and cherish your parents, whilst they are yet with you, for their loss can never be repaired.

There was a people in Persia and Syria called Hassassins, from Hass, the Arabic term for to kill, because they thought the crime of murder a great virtue. Hence arose the expression, assassin. The chief of these savages was called "The Old Man of the Mountain;" and at his command they travelled to all places, far and near, to slay whomsoever he ordered them.

Before the race was destroyed, one of these assassins attempted to murder Edward. He entered the royal tent when the prince was with his army in Palestine, and tried to stab him with a dagger.

Edward caught the blow on his arm, and throwing down the ruffian, soon despatched him.

It was feared, that the wound on his arm might have been given with a poisoned dagger; but the prince happily recovered, to the great joy of his army and his nation. He returned to England, and was crowned at Westminster.

The Welsh had often harassed their English neighbours, and laid waste the adjacent counties. Edward therefore resolved to bring that people under his dominion, and, raising an army, attacked Llewellyn, Prince of Wales. Llewellyn was killed in battle; and from that period Wales became a part of England.

Edward sullied the glory of his victory by ordering all the Welsh bards to be massacred. He excused his barbarity by saying, he did so to preserve peace in the kingdom-the bards being likely to keep up a spirit of dissension, as they were always reciting verses about the prowess of their ancestors.

The Welsh provoked at this cruelty, and proud of their long preserved independence, did not seem disposed to submit patiently to the yoke of their conqueror; but Edward softened their anger by an ingenious arrangement. He promised the Welsh a prince, born in Wales, one who could speak no English. His queen soon after had a son, who was born in the Castle of Caernarvon.