solves into its primitive and almost formless form. The sun comes to us as heat; he quits us as heat; and between his entrance and departure the multiform powers of our globe appear. They are all special forms of solar power -the mould into which his strength is temporarily poured, in passing from its source through infinitude. 8. Presented rightly to the mind, the discoveries and generalizations of modern science constitute a poem more sublime than has ever yet been addressed to the intellect and imagination of man. The natural philosopher of today may dwell amid conceptions which beggar those of Milton. So great and grand are they, that, in the contemplation of them, a certain force of character is requisite to preserve us from bewilderment. 9. Look at the integrated energies of our world—the stored power of our coal-fields; our winds and rivers; our fleets, armies, and guns. What are they? They are all generated by a portion of the sun's energy, which does not amount to an infinitesimal part of the whole. Multiplying our powers by millions of millions, we do not reach the sun's expenditure. 10. And still, notwithstanding this enormous drain, in the lapse of human history we are unable to detect a diminution of his store. Measured by our largest terrestrial standards, such a reservoir of power is infinite; but it is our privilege to rise above these standards, and to regard the sun himself as a speck in infinite extensiona mere drop in the universal sea. 11. We analyze the space in which he is immersed, and which is the vehicle of his power. We pass to other systems and other suns, each pouring forth energy like our own, but still without infringement of the law which reveals immutability in the midst of change, which recognizes incessant transference and conversion, but neither final gain nor loss. 12. This law generalizes the aphorism of Solomon, that there is "nothing new under the sun," by teaching us to detect everywhere, under its infinite variety of appearances, the same primeval force. To Nature nothing can be added; from Nature nothing can be taken away; the sum of her energies is constant, and the utmost man can do in the pursuit of physical truth, or in the application of physical knowledge, is to shift the constituents of the never-varying total, and out of one of them to form another. 13. The law of conservation rigidly excludes both creation and annihilation. Waves may change to ripples, and ripples to waves; magnitude may be substituted for number, and number for magnitude; asteroids may aggregate to suns, suns may resolve themselves into flora and faunæ, and flora and faunæ melt in air: the flux of power is eternally the same. 14. It rolls in music through the ages, and all terrestrial energy-the manifestations of life, as well as the display of phenomena—are but the modulations of its rhythm. John Tyndall. FOR PREPARATION.-I. "To Nature nothing can be added; . . . the sum of her energies is constant" (referring to the law of the correlation of forces, by which it is shown that each force, in acting, passes over into some other one equivalent to it, and the amount of force remains as before, although taking on a new form). "Flora and fauna" (plants and animals); "asteroids" (small planets discovered between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter). II. Vŏl-ca'-nõeş, liq'-uid (lik’wid), ăģ'-i-tāte, glā'-çier (-seer), ǎv'-alǎnche, ǎn'-a-lyze, vē'-hi-ele (-hi-kl), ǎph'-o-rism, pur-suit' (-sūt'), wields, scythe, fi'-berg, diş-şolves', phe-nom'-e-na. III. Correct the following: "The book is her's;" "The sled is our's;" "It's runner is broken;""Give me yourn; ""Ourn is played out." (Correct vulgarisms or slang, as well as incorrect forms.) IV. Terrestrial, eruptions, manifestation, organic, projectile, bomb, rigid, verdure, energy, infinitesimal, expenditure, lapse, diminution, reservoir, extension, immersed, infringement, immutability, incessant, generalizes, primeval, energies, constituents, annihilation, shuttle, essence, constitute, bewilderment, integrated, magnitude, substituted, aggregate, modulation. V. How does he "lift the rivers and glaciers up to the mountains" (2)? The chief thought of this piece is the doctrine of the correlation of forces, and the dependence of all upon the sun. No force is ever lost; it simply changes form. When it loses itself as heat, it becomes some other form of force as motion in space, for example. In the locomotive we burn fuel, and transfer the heat, through the steam, to motion of the train of cars; the motion of the train of cars ceases, and the force expended in its motion has all been converted into another kind of force again-perhaps into heat once more, through the friction of wheels, axles, rails, air, etc., and the vibrations imparted to them. So light, heat, electricity, magnetism, are kinds of force which continually pass over into each other, or into other kinds of force. If attraction of gravitation is the chief store-house of energy of one kind, and heat is the other, we can see how all lifting is done by heat (evaporation, volcanic action, expansion of various kinds), and how gravitation effects all contractions and causes all falling motions, or such as tend to the centre of the earth. If the sun is the cause of all heat, then it is the source of all upheaving forces; if it is also the cause of the earth's gravitation, it is likewise the cause of all falling motion and contraction. CI. POETIC READING. VIII.- -METRIC REGULARITY AND RHYTHMIC VARIETY. The poems which have charmed the most and the longest have great rhythmic variety, such as "The Burial of Sir Thomas Moore," by Charles Wolfe. While the meter of four and three feet, in alternate lines, is never broken, or even marred, the rhythm changes to almost every form the metric time will allow. The standard measure is "trisyllabic." The prevalent foot has the accent on the last of the three syllables. "Not a drum' was heard', | nor a fun'- | eral note', As his corse' to the ram'- | part we hurried; Not a sol- dier discharged' | his fare'- | well shot', O'er the grave' | where our he'- | ro we bur'ied." Yet the second foot has but two syllables; and the second and fourth lines end with a foot of four syllables; and the third line ends with two dissyllabic feet. "We buried him dark'ly at dead' of night', In the second verse, the first line begins and ends with a foot of two syllables. The second line begins with a foot of two syllables, has the regular foot in the middle, and ends with a foot of four syllables. The third line has three of its four feet dissyllabic. The fourth line has two syllables for its second foot, and its last has the middle accent. "Few' and short' | were the prayers' | we said'." In this line, but one foot-the third-keeps to the eye the standard form and "trisyllabic measure." But poetry must be measured by the ear, and the natural emphasis of time required by the monosyllabic foot "few" fills the measure to the ear. "Light'ly | they'll talk' | of the spir'- | it that's gone', But little he'll reck', | if they let' | him sleep on', In the first foot of this verse-"Lightly"—we have a double change from the "standard foot." It has but two syllables, and the accent is on the first. The second syllable of this first foot is very short, yet, as this is the emphatic word of the line, the sense requires the lengthened time on "Light," which fills the measure. In the second foot-" they'll talk"-the two syllables are both long, and so naturally equal in time to the ordinary three (one long and two short). In the second line, "And o'er' his | cold ash'es | upbraid' him,” the three feet are regular in the number and length of their syllables, but the accent falls on the middle one of the three. The first foot of the third line also has the middle accent, and the second foot-"he'll reck”—is another of two long syllables in place of the "regular three." The second foot of the last line-"where a Briton"-has four syllables, and the last foot has the middle accent. Yet, through all these changes, the same faultless measure flows. Indeed, in nearly every line of this famous poem we may find some felicitous changes of rhythm, which never fail to accord the sense and the metric time. It is from this happy union of METRIC REGULARITY and RHYTHMIC VARIETY that such poems derive their double charm. In this rhythmic union of the sense and the measure lies the "open secret" of good poetic reading. IX.-SING-SONG AND ITS REMEDY. "Machine poetry," as it is called, is written with regard for "meter" only, and is therefore painfully regular. Sing-song in reading does what it can to turn good poetry into this same mechanical verse, by making the metric |