was sung by one of the young women, the rest joining in 7 a sort of chorus. The air was sweet and plaintive, and the words, literally translated, were these: "The winds roared and the rains fell.-The poor white man, faint and weary, came and sat under our tree.-He has no mother to bring him milk; no wife to grind his corn. Chorus. Let us pity the white man no mother has he to bring him milk; no wife to grind his corn.' *These simple and pathetic sentiments, have been very beautifully versified and expanded by the duchess of Devonshire. The following is a copy of this little interesting piece of poetry:— 1 The loud wind roared, the rain fell fast; CHORUS. The white man shall our pity share : 2 The storm is o'er, the tempest past, CHORUS. Go, white man, go; but with thee bear LESSON LXXXVIII. New-England. PERCIVAL. 1 HAIL to the land whereon we tread, The sepulchre of mighty dead, No slave is here-our unchained feet 2 Our fathers crossed the ocean's wave They left behind the coward slave Such toils, as meaner souls had quelled; 3 Hail to the morn, when first they stood And, fearless, stemmed the invading flood, O! 'twas a proud, exulting day, 4 There is no other land like thee, Thou art the shelter of the free; Ere I forget to think upon My land, shall mother curse the son 5 Thou art the firm, unshaken rock And, rising from thy hardy stock, All, who the wreath of Freedom twine, Are blest. 6 We love thy rude and rocky shore, Let foreign navies hasten o'er, They still shall find, our lives are given, LESSON LXXXIX. Helps to Read.-BYROM. 1 A CERTAIN artist, I've forgot his name, Had got for making spectacles a fame, Or "Helps to Read"—as, when they first were sold, Was writ upon his glaring sign in gold; And, for all uses to be had from glass, His were allowed, by readers, to surpass. There came a man into his shop one dayAre you the spectacle Contriver, pray? Yes, sir, said he, I can in that affair Contrive to please you, if you want a pair. 2 Can you? pray do then.-So, at first, he chose To place a youngish pair upon his nose; And book produced, to see how they would fit: Asked how he liked 'em ?-Like 'em-Not a bitThen, sir, I fancy, if you please to try, These in my hand will better suit your eyeNo, but they don't-Well, come, sir, if you please, Here is another sort, we'll e'en try these; Still somewhat more they magnify the letter: Now, sir?-Why now-I'm not a bit the better3 No! here, take these that magnify still more; How do they fit ?-Like all the rest before. In short, they tried a whole assortment through, But all in vain, for none of them would do. The Operator, much surprised to find So odd a case, thought, sure the man is blind: What sort of eyes can you have got? said he. Resolved to post him for an arrant cheat. Dr. Fowler, bishop of Gloucester, in the early part of the eighteenth century, was a believer in apparitions. The following conversation of the bishop with Judge Powell is recorded : "Since I saw you," said the lawyer, "I have had ocular demonstration of the existence of nocturnal apparitions." "I am glad you are become a convert to truth; but do you say actual ocular demonstration ? Let me know the particulars of the story." My lord, I will. It was, let me see, last Thursday night, between the hours of eleven and twelve, but nearer the latter than the former, as I lay sleeping in my bed, I was suddenly awakened by an uncommon noise, and heard something coming up stairs, and stalking directly towards my room the door flying open, I drew back my curtain, and saw a faint glimmering light enter my chamber.” "Of a blue color, no doubt." "The light was of a pale blue, my lord, and followed by a tall meagre personage, his locks hoary with age, and clothed in a long loose gown, a leathern girdle was about his loins, his beard thick and grizzly, a large fur cap on his head, and a long staff in his hand. Struck with astonishment, I remained for some time motionless and silent; the figure advanced, staring me full in the face: I then said, Whence, and what art thou?" "What was the answer-tell me -what was the answer?" "The following was the answer I received: I am watchman of the night, an't please your honor, and made bold to come up stairs to inform the family of their street door being open, and that if it were not soon shut, they would probably be robbed before morning." LESSON XC. Diedrich Knickerbocker's New-England Farmer.-IRVING. 1 THE first thought of a Yankee farmer, en coming to the years of manhood, is to settle himself in the world-which means nothing more than to begin his rambles. To this end, he takes to himself for a wife some buxom country heiress, passing rich in red ribands, glass beads, and mock tortoise-shell combs, with a white gown and morocco shoes for Sunday, and deeply skilled in the mystery of making apple-sweetmeats, long sauce, and pumpkin pie. Having thus provided himself, like a pedler, with a heavy knapsack, wherewith to regale his shoulders through the journey 2 of life, he literally sets out on his peregrinations. His whole family, household furniture, and farming utensils, are hoisted into a covered cart; his own and wife's wardrobe packed up in a firkin-which done, he shoulders his axe, takes staff in his hand, whistles “ Yankee doodle,” and trudges off to the woods, as confident of the protection of Providence, and relying as cheerfully on his own resources, as ever did a patriarch of yore, when he journeyed into a strange country of the Gentiles. Having buried himself in the wilderness, he builds himself a log-hut, clears 3 away a corn-field and potato-patch, and, Providence smiling upon his labors, he is soon surrounded by a snug farm, and some half a score of flaxen-headed urchins, who, by their size, seem to have sprung all at once out of the earth, like a crop of toadstools. But it is not the nature of this most indefatigable of speculators to rest contented with any state of sublunary enjoyment: improvement is his darling passion; and, having thus improved his lands, the next step is to provide a mansion worthy the residence of a landholder. A huge palace 4 of pine-boards immediately springs up in the midst of the wilderness, large enough for a parish church, and furnished with windows of all dimensions; but so rickety and flimsy withal, that every blast gives it a fit of the ague. By the time the outside of this mighty air-castle is completed, either the funds, or the zeal of our adventurer are exhausted, so that he barely manages to half finish one room within, where the whole family burrow together, while the rest of the house is devoted to the curing of pumpkins, or sto |