4. Proceeding pensively along, in search of some human being for information, they perceived a boy sitting by the shore, who appeared stupified with terror. They asked him concerning the fate of the city;-but he gave them no answer. They intreated, begged him to tell them;-he only gazed on the dismal lake; they offered him food, but he heeded it not;— they tried to rouse him from his insensibility, but pointing to the place of the city, with a shriek he fled, and was seen no more.

The Wild Boy.-CHARLES W. THOME ON.

1. He sat upon the wave washed shore,
With madness in his eye;

The surges' dash-the breakers' roar—
Passed unregarded by-

He noticed not the billows' roll,
He heeded not their strife—
For terror had usurped his soul,
And stopped the streams of life.

2. They spoke him kindly-but he gazed,
And offered no reply-

They gave him food-he look'd amazed,
And threw the morsel by.

He was as one o'er whom a spell
Of darkness hath been cast;
His spirit seemed alone to dwell
With dangers that were past.

3. The city of his home and heart,
So grand-so gaily bright,
Now touch'd by Fate's unerring dart,
Had vanish'd from his sight.
The earthquake's paralizing shake
Had rent it from its hold-

And nothing but a putrid lake
Its tale of terror told.

4. His kindred there, a numerous band,
Had watch'd his youthful bloom,

In the broad ruin of the land

All-all had met their doom!
But the last night, a mother's voice
Breath'd over him in prayer-
She perished-he was left no choice
But mute and blank despair.

LESSON LIII. 3

The Starling.-Sterne.

1. BESHREW the sombre* pencil! said I vauntingly-for 1 envy not its powers, which paints the evils of life with so hard and deadly a coloring. The mind sits terrified at the objects she has magnified herself and blackened: reduce them to their proper size and hue, she overlooks them.

2. 'Tis true, said I, correcting the proposition-the Bastile† is not an evil to be despised-but strip it of its towers-fill up the fossef-unbarricade the doors-call it simply a confinement, and suppose 'tis some tyrant of a distemper and not of a man -which holds you in it--the evil vanishes, and you bear the other half without complaint.

3. I was interrupted in the hey-day of this soliloquy, with a voice which I took to be of a child which complained, "it could not get out."--I looked up and down the passage, and seeing neither man, woman, nor child, I went out without further attention.

4. In my return back through the passage, I heard the same words repeated twice over; and looking up, I saw it was a Starling hung in a little cage-"I can't get out-I can't get out," said the Starling.

5. I stood looking at the bird; and to every person who came through the passage, it ran fluttering to the side towards which they approached it, with the same lamentations of its captivity" I can't get out," said the Starling.

6. God help thee! said I, but I will let thee out, cost what it will; so I turned about the cage to get at the door; it was

* Pronounced som'-ber, gloomy, dull, sad.

+ Pronounced Bas-teel, an old castle in Paris, built between 1369 and 1383, and used as a state prison. It was demolished in 1789.

Pronounced foss, a ditch.

So-li-o-quy, a speech made by ne alone to himself.

twisted and double twisted so fast with wire, there was no getting it open without pulling the cage to pieces-I took both hands to it.

7. The bird flew to the place where I was attempting his deliverance, and thrusting his head through the trellis, pressed his breast against it as if impatient. I fear, poor creature! said I, I cannot set thee at liberty-"No," said the Starling.— "I can't get out, I can't get out," said the Starling.

8. I never had my affections more tenderly awakened; nor do I remember an incident in my life, where the dissipated spirits, to which my reason had been a bubble, were so suddenly called home.

9. Mechanical as the notes were, yet so true in tune to nature were they chanted, that in one moment they overthrew all ny systematic reasonings upon the Bastile; and I heavily walked up stairs, unsaying every word I had said in going down them.

10. Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still, slavery!-still thou art a bitter draught! and though thousands in all ages have been made to drink of thee, thou art no less bitter on that account.

11. "Tis thou, liberty-thrice sweet and gracious goddesswhom all in public or in private worship, whose taste is grateful, and ever will be so, till nature herself shall change-no tint of words can spot thy snowy mantle, or chymic power turn thy sceptre into iron-with thee to smile upon him as he eats his crust, the swain is happier than his monarch, from whose court thou art exiled.

12. Gracious Heaven! Grant me but health, thou great Bestower of it, and give me but this fair goddess as my companion-and shower down thy mitres,* if it seem good unto thy divine Providence, upon those heads which are aching for them.

I sat

13. The bird in his cage pursued me into my room; down close by my table, and leaning my head upon my hand, I began to figure to myself the miseries of confinement; I was in a right frame for it, and so I gave full scope to my imagination.

14. I was going to begin with the millions of my fellow creatures born to no inheritance but slavery; but finding, however affecting the picture was, that I could not bring it near me, an

* Mitre, a kind of crown, or ornament, worn on the head by bishops on solemn occasions.

that the multitude of sad groups in it did but distract me-1 took a single captive, and having first shut him up in his dungeon, I then looked through the twilight of his grated door to take his picture.

15. I beheld his body half wasted away with long expectation and confinement, and felt what kind of sickness of the heart it is which arises from hope deferred. Upon looking nearer, I saw him pale and feverish : in thirty years the western breeze had not once fanned his blood--he had seen no sun, no moon, in all that time-nor had the voice of friend or kinsman breathed through his lattice-his children-but here my heart began to bleed—and I was forced to go on with another part of the portrait..

16. He was sitting upon the ground upon a little straw, in the furthest corner of his dungeon, which was alternately his chair and bed; a little calender of small sticks was laid at the head, notched all over with the dismal days and nights he had passed there he had one of these little sticks in his hand, and with a rusty nail he was etching another day of misery to add to the heap.

17. As I darkened the little light he had, he lifted up a hopeless eye towards the door, then cast it down-shook his head, and went on with his work of affliction. I heard his chains upon his legs, as he turned his body to lay his little stick upon the bundle--He gave a deep sigh-I saw the iron enter into his soul-I burst into tears I could not sustain the picture of confinement which my fancy had drawn.

LESSON LIV.

Alcander and Septimius.-GOLDSMITH.

1. ALCANDER and Septimius were two Athenian students, whose tastes for the arts and sciences became the foundation of their future friendship, and they were scarcely ever seen apart. Although Alcander's breast was animated by that tender sentiment, a still more lively one found entrance, and the fair Hypatia became the object of his love: He declared his passion, and was accepted.

2. Septimius happened to have left the city, when his friend first saw the blooming fair one, and did not return until the day fixed upon for his marriage. The moment that introduced him to the view of such perfection, was fatal to his peace; and the struggle between love and friendship became too violent for his

resolution. A sudden and dangerous fever attacked him; and the unsuspicious Alcander introduced the object of his affection to assist him in his unwearied care of his friend.

3. The moment the physicians beheld Hypatia enter, they were no longer at a loss to account for their patient's illness; and calling Alcander aside, they informed him of the nature of it, and also expressed their fears that Septimius' recovery was impossible! Tortured between the dread of losing the friend of his heart, and agonized at the idea of relinquishing the object of his affection, his anguish for some time deprived him of utterance; but recovering that fortitude which had ever marked his conduct, he flew to the bed-side of his apparently dying friend, and promised to renounce his claim to Hypatia, if she consented to a union with Septimius.

4. Whether Hypatia had not been strongly attached to the amiable Alcander, or whether compassion urged her to accept the hand of his friend, is uncertain; but they were united, quitted Athens, and went directly to Septimius' house at Rome. Hypatia's friends, imagining Alcander had relinquished his betrothed bride for the sake of a rich reward, commenced an action against him for a breach of promise; and the judges, biassed by the representations of his enemies, ordered that he should pay a heavier fine than his whole property amounted to.

5. The wretched Alcander was now reduced to the most melancholy situation; his friend absent, the object of his love lost, and his own character stigmatized with baseness! Being absolutely unable to pay the demand, his person became the property of his oppressors, and he was carried into the market place and sold as a common slave. A Thracian merchant became his purchaser, and for several years he endured a life of torment. At length liberty presented itself to his view, and the opportunity of flight was not to be rejected. Alcander ardently embraced it, and arrived at Rome in the dusk of the evening.

6. Friendless, hopeless, and forlorn, the generous Alcander had no place of shelter, and necessity compelled him to seek a lodging in a gloomy cavern. Two robbers, who had long been suspected to frequent that spot, arrived there soon after midnight, and disputing about their booty, fortunately did not perceive his presence. One of them at length was so exasperated against his companion, that drawing a dagger from his side, he plunged it into his heart, and left him, weltering in his blood at the mouth of the cave.