It is a great stain on the character of the more recent ages of the world, that the crime should ever have become of less rare occurrence; yet in nothing, perhaps, have the ways of God to man been more signally justified, than in the punishment which has sooner or later followed all deviations from filial love and duty. So proverbial, indeed, has this become, as to make any particular illustration of the fact wholly unnecessary.

LESSON NINETY-FOURTH.
The rising Moon.

The moon is up! how calm and slow
She wheels above the hill!
The weary winds forget to blow,
And all the world lies still.

The wayworn travellers with delight
The rising brightness see,
Revealing all the paths and plains,
And gilding every tree.

It glistens where the hurrying stream
Its little rippling heaves;
It falls upon the forest shade,
And sparkles on the leaves.

So once on Judah's evening hills,
The heavenly lustre spread;
The gospel sounded from the blaze,
And shepherd's gazed with dread.

And still that light upon the world
Its guiding splendor throws;
Bright in the opening hours of life,
And brighter at the close.

The waning moon in time shall fail
To walk the midnight skies;

But God hath kindled this bright light
With fire that never dies.

wwwwwamanna

LESSON NINETY-FIFTH.

Captain Church and Anawon.

Anawon, his son, and several chiefs, had cut down a tree, under the rocks, and against it set up a row of bushes, to form a shelter. Great fires were burning without, pots and kettles were boiling, and spits turning, loaded with meat. Their arms stood near,

covered with a mat.

Returning to his company, Capt. Church ordered his pilot and daughter, as they would be received without notice, to descend first, with their baskets on their backs. He and his friends followed in their shadow, letting themselves down by the bushes in the cracks of the rocks. Church, with his hatchet in his hand, first reached the arms at the feet of Anawon.

The old chieftain, starting up on end, cried out, Howah, and, in despair, fell back silent. Church sent his Indians to the other companies, to inform them their chief was a prisoner, and warn them to submit. They obeyed. "What have you for supper?" said Church to Anawon; "I am come to sup with you."

Anawon ordered his women to provide supper, and asked Church whether he would have cow beef or horse beef. He replied, that cow beef would be the most pleasant. Supper was soon ready. After which, as he had not slept for two days and a night, Church told his men, if they would let him sleep two hours, they should rest the whole night after.

But Church's situation was too interesting for sleep; his men, however, he soon perceived were all

in a sound slumber. He and Anawon were the only persons awake in all the camps. So does elevation of character, and a sense of responsibility, fill the heart with anxious care.

While the Indian chief recollected the deeds of his valor in the service of three kings, and exulted in the destruction of villages, the sighs of his prisoners, and the blood of a thousand battles, the chains of his own captivity sunk deep into his soul; the fall of his prince, the ruin of his country, the utter extinction of his tribe, filled his heart with the agony of horror and desperation.

For an hour, the two captains lay looking at each other; when Anawon rose, and walked off, as Church supposed, for some necessary purpose; but, soon finding him out of sight and hearing, he began to be alarmed, took all the arms to him, crowded himself under young Anawon, so that the father must have endangered his son in attempting to kill him.

But the old man soon returned, and, falling on his knees, said, "Great captain, you have killed King Philip, and conquered his country. I believe that I and my company are the last who war against the English; so I suppose the war is ended by your means. These things, therefore, are yours. They are the royalties of King Philip, with which he adorned himself when he sat in state. I think myself happy in presenting them to Captain Church, who has so fairly won them."

Then, opening the pack, he pulled out a belt, nine inches broad, curiously wrought with black and white' wampum, in various figures of flowers, birds, and beasts; also another, wrought in the same manner, worn on the head of the warrior, hanging down his back, from which two flags waved behind him. A third, with a star on the end, hung round his neck down to his breast. These, and two horns of glazed powder, and a red cloth blanket, constituted the royal dress of

King Philip. They spent the night in free conversation. Anawon gave a narrative of his mighty successes in former wars. In the morning, they marched to Taunton. Church and Anawon, with half a dozen friendly Indians, went to Rhode-Island, while the troops and other prisoners were sent to Plymouth, where Church soon followed them.

LESSON NINETY-SIXTH.

Birth of an Eldest Son.

Welcome, little helpless stranger,
Welcome to the light of day;
Smile upon thy happy mother,
Smile, and chase her pains away.

Lift thine eyes, and look around thee;
Various nature courts thy sight,
Spreads for thee her flowery carpet;
Earth was made for thy delight.

Welcome to a mother's bosom,
Welcome to a father's arms;
Heir to all thy father's virtues,
Heir to all thy mother's charms.

Joy thou bring'st, but mixed with trouble,
Anxious joys and tender fears,
Pleasing hopes, and mingled sorrows,
Smiles of transport dashed with tears.

Who can say what lies before thee,
Calm or tempest, peace or strife;
With what turns of various fortune
Fate shall mark thy checkered life.

Who can tell what eager passions
In this little heart shall beat,
When ambition, love, or glory,

Shall invade this peaceful seat.

Who can tell how wide the branches
Of this tender plant may spread,
While beneath its ample shadow
Swains may rest, and flocks be fed.

Angels guard thee, lovely blossom,
And avert each hovering ill!
Crown thy parents' largest wishes,
And their fondest hopes fulfil.

LESSON NINETY-SEVENTH.

Christian Indian.

In the year 1742, a veteran warrior of the Lenape nation and Monsey tribe, renowned among his own people for his bravery and prowess, and equally dreaded by their enemies, joined the Christian Indians who then resided at this place, (Bethlehem.) This man, who was then at an advanced age, had a most striking appearance, and could not be viewed without astonishment.

Besides that his body was full of scars, where he had been struck and pierced by the arrows of the enemy, there was not a spot to be seen, on that part of it which was exposed to view, but what was tattooed over with some drawing relative to his achievements, so that the whole together struck the beholder with amazement and terror.

On his whole face, neck, shoulders, arms, thighs, and legs, as well as on his breast and back, were represented scenes of the various actions and engage