It tempts him, from the blandishments of home,
Mountains to climb, and frozen seas to roam;
By air-blown bubbles buoyed, it bids him rise,
And hang an atom in the vaulted skies;
Lured by its charm, he sits and learns to trace
The midnight wanderings of the orbs of space;
Boldly he knocks at wisdom's inmost gate,

With nature counsels, and communes with fate;
Below, above, o'er all he dares to rove,

In all finds God, and finds that God all love.

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LESSON LXXXVIII.

The Love of Country and of Home.-MONTGOMERY.

THERE is a land, of every land the pride, Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside; Where brighter suns dispense serener light, And milder moons emparadise the night; A land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth, Time-tutored age, and love-exalted youth. The wandering mariner, whose eye explores The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores, Views not a realm so bountiful and fair, Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air; In every clime, the magnet of his soul, Touched by remembrance, trembles to that pole: For in this land of Heaven's peculiar grace, The heritage of nature's noblest race, There is a spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest, Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride, While, in his softened looks, benignly blend The sire the son, the husband, father, friend

Here woman reigns; the mother, daughter, wife, ows with fresh flowers the narrow way of life; the clear heaven of her delightful eye, angel-guard of loves and graces lie; ound her knees domestic duties meet, d fire-side pleasures gambol at her feet. mere shall that land, that spot of earth, be found? - thou a man?-a patriot ?-look around;

! thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam, at land THY COUNTRY, and that spot THY HOME.

LESSON LXXXIX.

Columbus in Chains.-Miss M. J. JEWSBURY.

VAS eve :-upon his chariot throne

The sun sank lingering in the west;
sea and sky were there alone,
To hail him in this hour of rest;
: never shone his glorious light
re calmly, gloriously bright.

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r clouds above, nor wave below,
Nor human sound, nor earthly air,
ngled with that o'erwhelming glow,
Marred the deep peace reposing there;
e sea looked of the sky's fair mould,
e sky, a sea of burning gold.

on, a single ship, from far,
Came softly gliding o'er the sea:
vely and quiet as a star,

When its fair path is calm and free,
like a bird with snow-white wing,
me on that glittering, gentle thing.

She came with buoyant beauty crowned, And yet disturbed the scene's repose; For she, of all the objects round,

Alone was linked to human woes; She only, mid the glorious span, Spoke of the world,—the world of man.

And yet she bore from conquering feat,
The brave, the joyous and the free,
And many a nobler heart that beat
With hopes as boundless as the sea;
One only felt his course was run,—
He gazed upon the sinking sun.

His the keen eye and stately form,
And reason's majesty of brow;
His the firm soul, that danger's storm,
When most it baffled, could not bow,—
The soul that taught him now to wear
His fetters with a kingly air.

Yet was that mighty soul subdued

By man's neglect and sorrow's sway, As rocks, that have the storm withstood, May silent waters wear away.

But the vexed spirit spurned its yoke;
He looked upon his chains, and spoke :—

Adopted land! Adopted land!—

And these, then, are thy gifts for me, Who dared, where unknown seas expand, Seek realms and riches vast for thee! Who made, without thy fostering power, An undivided world thy dower !

"O'er Spain yon glorious sun may set And leave her native realm awhile. May rise o'er other lands,—and yet— Even there on her dominions smile;

when his daily course is run,

Spain a never-setting sun.

served thee as a son would serve ;
I loved thee with a father's love;
uled my thought, and strung my nerve,
To raise thee other lands above,
d, from a queen of earth, to be
e single empress of the sea.

'or thee my form is bowed and worn
With midnight watches on the main;
thee my soul hath calmly borne
lls worse than sorrow, more than pain;
rough life, whate'er my lot may be,
ved, dared, suffered, but for thee.

Iy guerdon ?-'Tis a furrowed brow,
Hair gray with grief, eyes dim with tears,
d blighted hope, and broken vow,
And poverty for coming years,

d hate, with malice in her train :-
nat other guerdon ?-View my chain!

No more.-The sun-light leaves the sea;
Farewell, thou never-dying king!

rth's clouds and changes change not thee; And thou,-and thou,-grim, giant thing, use of my glory and my pain,

rewell, unfathomable main !"

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LESSON XC.

On Respect for Ancestors.-QUINCY.

Or all the affections of man, those which connect him h ancestry are among the most natural and generous. ey enlarge the sphere of his interests, multiply his mo es to virtue, and give intensity to his sense of duty to erations to come, by the perception of obligation to those ch are past. In whatever mode of existence man finds self, be it savage or civilized, he perceives that he is ebted for the far greater part of his possessions and enments, to events over which he had no control; to indiuals, whose names, perhaps, never reached his ear; to rifices, in which he never shared; and to sufferings, akening in his bosom few and very transient sympathies. Cities and empires, not less than individuals, are chiefly ebted for their fortunes to circumstances and influences ependent of the labors and wisdom of the passing genera. Is our lot cast in a happy soil, beneath a favored sky, I under the shelter of free institutions? How few of all se blessings do we owe to our own power, or our own dence! How few, on which we cannot discern the imss of long past generations!

it is natural, that reflections of this kind should awaken iosity concerning the men of past ages. It is suitable, characteristic of noble natures, to love to trace in venerinstitutions the evidences of ancestral worth and dom; and to cherish that mingled sentiment of awe and miration, which takes possession of the soul, in the prese of ancient, deep-laid, and massy monuments of intelcual and moral power.

LESSON XCI.

Character of the Puritans.-STORY.

T is not in the power of the scoffer, or the skeptic, of the asite, who fawns on courts, or the proselyte, who dotes on