* *

turbance of the laws of nature, she had lost her way and was frightened. * * Sweeping gusts of rain came up before this storm, like showers of steel. Long before we saw the sea, its and showered salt rain upon us. over miles and miles of the flat

spray was on our lips,

The water was out, country adjacent to

Yarmouth; and every sheet and puddle lashed its banks, and had its stress of little breakers setting heavily towards us.

STUDENTS. Advice to

David Copperfield, Chap. IV.

DICKENS.

Don't catch the fidgets; you have found your place

Just in the focus of a nervous race,

Fretful to change, and rabid to discuss,
Full of excitements, always in a fuss ;-
Think of the patriarchs; then compare as men
These lean-cheeked maniacs of the tongue and pen!
Run, if you like, but try to keep your breath;
Work like a man, but don't be worked to death;
And with new notions—let me change the rule-
Don't strike the iron till it's slightly cool.

STUDIES.

Urania.-O. W. HOLMES.

Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their chief use for delight, is in privateness and retiring; for ornament, is in discourse; and for ability, is in the judgment and disposition of business;

for expert men can execute, and perhaps judge of particulars, one by one; but the general counsels, and the plots and marshalling of affairs, come best from those that are learned. Essay on Studies.-LORD BACON.

It is not easy to describe in words the precise impression which great and sublime objects make upon us when we behold them; but every one has a conception of it. It produces a sort of internal elevation and expansion; it raises the mind much above its ordinary state, and fills it with a degree of wonder and astonishment which it cannot well express. The emotion is certainly delightful, but it is altogether of the serious kind; a degree of awfulness and solemnity, even approaching to severity, commonly attends it when at its height, very distinguishable from the more gay and brisk emotion raised by beautiful objects.

Lecture on the Cultivation of Taste.
HUGH BLAIR.

SUBMISSION.

God of the just, Thou gav'st the bitter cup.
I bow to thy behest, and drink it up.

SUCCESS.

To my Mother.-H. K. WHITE.

The Actor's Secret of

There is one way by which a strolling player may be ever secure of success; that is, in our theatrical way

of expressing it, to make a great deal of the character. To speak and act as in common life, is not playing, nor is it what people come to see: natural speaking, like sweet wine, runs glibly over the palate, and scarcely leaves any taste behind it; but being high in a part resembles vinegar, which grates upon the taste, and one feels it while he is drinking. To please in town or country, the way is to cry, wring, cringe into attitudes, mark the emphasis, slap the pockets, and labour like one in a falling sickness; that is the way to work for applause that is the way to gain it.

Essay IV.-GOLDSMITH.

SUFFERING.

Because she bears the pearl,-that makes the oyster

sore ;

Be thankful for the pain that but exalts thee more.

SUMMER.

Strung Pearls.-RUCKERT.

The Approach of

Nor wants there fragrance to dispense
Refreshment o'er my soothed sense;
Nor tangled woodbine's balmy bloom,
Nor grass besprent to breathe perfume;
Nor lurking wild thyme's spicy sweet
To bathe in dew my roving feet:
Nor wants there note of Philomel,
Nor sound of distant tinkling bell;

Nor lowings faint of herds remote,
Nor mastiff's bark from bosom'd cot;
Rustle the breezes lightly borne

O'er deep embattled ears of corn :
Round ancient elm, with humming noise,
Full loud the chaffer swarms rejoice.
Meantime a thousand dyes invest
The ruby chambers of the west!
That all aslant the village tower
A mild reflected radiance pour,
While, with the level-streaming rays
Far seen its arched windows blaze,
And the tall grove's green top is dight
In russet tints, and gleams of light:
So that the gay scene by degrees
Bathes my blithe heart in ecstasies;
And fancy to my ravish'd sight
Portrays her kindred visions bright.
At length the parting light subdues
My soften'd soul to calmer views,
And fainter shapes of pensive joy,
As twilight dawns, my mind employ,
Till from the path I fondly stray
In musing lapt, nor heed the way;
Wandering through the landscape still,
Till melancholy has her fill;

And on each moss-wove border damp
The glow-worm hangs his fairy lamp.

On the Approach of Summer.-THOMAS WARTON.

SUNSET.

Sundown ;-the lark's note melts into the air of

even;

To earth she falls not back; her grave is in the Strung Pearls.-RUCKERT.

heaven.

SUNDAY.

Sundays the pillars are

On which heav'n's palace arched lies:
The other days fill up the

spare
And hollow room with vanities.
They are the fruitful bed and borders,
In God's rich garden; that is bare,

Which parts their ranks and orders.

The Sundays of Man's life,

Threaded together on Time's string,
Make bracelets to adorn the wife
Of the eternal glorious King.

On Sunday Heaven's gate stands ope;
Blessings are plentiful and rife,

More plentiful than hope.

Sunday.-GEORGE HERBERT.

SUNDAY. Description of a Wet

tion.

A wet Sunday in a country inn! whoever has had the luck to experience one, can alone judge of my situaThe rain pattered against the casements, the bells tolled for church with a melancholy sound. I went to the windows in quest of something to amuse the eye,