LESSON CVI.

The Spells of Home.-MRS. HEMANS.

By the soft green light in the woody glade,
On the banks of moss where thy childhood play'd;
By the household tree through which thine eye
First look'd in love to the summer-sky;

By the dewy gleam, by the very breath
Of the primrose tufts in the grass beneath,
Upon thy heart there is laid a spell,
Holy and precious-oh! guard it well!

By the sleepy ripple of the stream,
Which hath lull'd thee into many a dream;
By the shiver of the ivy-leaves

To the wind of morn at thy casement-eaves,
By the bees' deep murmur in the limes,
By the music of the Sabbath-chimes,
By every sound of thy native shade,
Stronger and dearer the spell is made.

By the gathering round the winter hearth,
When twilight call'd unto household mirth;
By the fairy tale or the legend old

In that ring of happy faces told;

By the quiet hour when hearts unite

In the parting prayer and the kind "Good-night;"
By the smiling eye and the loving tone,
Over thy life has the spell been thrown.

And bless that gift!-it hath gentle might,
A guardian power and a guiding light.
It hath led the freeman forth to stand
In the mountain-battles of his land;
It hath brought the wanderer o'er the seas
To die on the hills of his own fresh breeze;
And back to the gates of his father's hall,
It hath led the weeping prodigal.

Yes! when thy heart in its pride would stray
From the pure first loves of its youth away;

When the sullying breath of the world would come
O'er the flowers it brought from its childhood's home;

Think thou again of the woody glade,
And the sound by the rustling ivy made,
Think of the tree at thy father's door,

And the kindly spell shall have power once more!

LESSON CVII.

Happiness.-POLLOK.

WHETHER in crowds, or solitudes-in streets
Or shady groves, dwelt happiness, it seems
In vain to ask; her nature makes it vain :
Though poets much, and hermits talked and sung
Of brooks, and crystal founts, and weeping dews,
And myrtle bowers, and solitary vales;

And with the nymph made assignations there;
And wooed her with the love-sick oaten reed:
And sages too, although less positive,
Advised their sons to court her in the shade.
Delirious babble all! Was happiness,
Was self-approving, God approving joy,
In drops of dew, however pure? in gales,
However sweet? in wells, however clear?
Or groves, however thick with verdant shade?

True, these were of themselves exceedng fair:
How fair at morn and even! worthy the walk
Of loftiest mind; and gave, when all within
Was right, a feast of overflowing bliss:
But were the occasion, not the cause of joy:
They waked the native fountains of the soul,
Which slept before; and stirred the holy tides
Of feeling up; giving the heart to drink

From its own treasures, draughts of perfect sweet.

The Christain faith, which better knew the heart Of man-him thither sent for peace; and thus Declared: Who finds it, let him find it there : Who finds it not, for ever let him seek In vain 'tis God's most holy, changeless will.

True happiness had no localities;
No tones provincial; no peculiar garb.
Where duty went, she went; with justice went;
And went with meekness, charity, and love.
Where'er a tear was dried; a wounded heart
Bound up; a bruised spirit with the dew
Of sympathy anointed; or a pang
Of honest suffering soothed; or injury
Repeated oft, as oft by love forgiven;
Where'er an evil passion was subdued,
Or Virtue's feeble embers fanned; where'er
A sin was heartily abjured, and left;
Where'er a pious act was done, or breathed
A pious prayer, or wished a pious wish-
There was a high and holy place, a spot
Of sacred light, a most religious fane,
Where Happiness, descending, sat and smiled.

LESSON CVIII.

The Mississippi Steam-Boats.-FLINT.

Ir is, perhaps, necessary to have something of the experience which we have had of the slowness, difficulty, and danger of propelling boats against the current of these long rivers, fully to estimate the advantages of this invention. We have ascended the Mississippi in this way for fifty days in succession. We have had but too much of the same kind of experience on the other streams. We considered ten miles a day as good progress. It is now refreshing, and it imparts a feeling of energy and power to the beholder, to see the large and beautiful steam-boats scudding up the eddies as though on the wing.

When they have run out of the eddy, and strike the current, it is a still more noble spectacle. The foam bursts in a sheet quite over the deck. The boat quivers for a moment with the concussion, and then, as though she had collected her energy, and vanquished her enemy, she resumes her stately march, and mounts against the current five or six miles an hour. We have travelled ten

days together, between New-Orleans and Louisville, more than a hundred miles a day against the stream.-The difficulty of ascending used to be the only one that was dreaded in the anticipation of a voyage of this kind. This difficulty has now disappeared, and the only one that remains, is to furnish money for the trip.

In

Even the expense, considering the luxury of the fare, and accommodation, is more moderate than could be expected. A family in Pittsburg wishes to make a social visit to a kindred family on Red River. The trip, as matters now stand, is about two thousand miles. Servants, baggage, or "plunder," as the phrase is, the family and family dog, cat and parrot, all together. twelve days they reach the point proposed. Even the return is but a short voyage. Surely we must resist strong temptations, if we do not become a social people. You are invited to a breakfast at seventy miles distance. You go on board the passing steam-boat and are transported, during the night, so as to go out in the morning and reach your appointment.

The day will probably come when the inhabitants of the warm and sickly regions of the lower points of the Mississippi will take their periodical migration to the north, with the geese and swans, and with them return to the south in the autumn. We have compared the most beautiful steam-boats of the Atlantic waters with those of the Mississippi; and we have seen none, which in splendour and striking effect upon the eye, and in the luxury and comfort of accommodation, could equal the Washington, Philadelphia, Lady of the Lake, Florida, and some others on these waters.

We have been amused in observing an Atlantic stranger who had heard us described by the phrase 'backwoodsmen,' taking his first survey of such a steam-boat. If there be any ground of complaint, it is that so much gorgeousness offends good taste, and seems to be in opposition to that ease and comfort, which one would desire in such a place. Certainly there can be no comparison between the comfort of the passage from Cincinnati to New-Orleans in such a steam-boat and a voyage at sea. The barren and boundless expanse of waters soon tires upon every eye, but a seaman's.

And then there are storms, and fastening of the tables,

and the necessity of holding to something to keep in bed. There is the insupportable nausea of sea sickness, and there is also danger. Here you are always near the shore, always see the green earth; can always eat, write, and study undisturbed. You can always obtain cream, fowls, vegetables, fruit, fresh meat, and wild game in their season from the shore.

A stranger to this mode of travelling would find it difficult to describe his impression upon descending the Mississippi for the first time in one of these steam-boats, which we have named. He contemplates the prodigious construction, with its double tiers of cabin, and its separate establishments for the ladies, and its commodious arrangements for the deck passengers and the servants. Over head, about him, and below him, all is life and movement. He contemplates the splendour of the cabin, its beautiful furnishing of the richest woods, its mirrors, and fine furniture, its sliding tables, its bar-room, and all its arrangements for the accommodation of eighty cabin passengers.

or

The fare is sumptuous, and every thing in a style of splendour, order, quiet, and regularity, far exceeding that of most city taverns. You read, you converse, walk, or sleep, as you choose. The varied and verdant scenery shifts around you. The trees, the green islands, the houses on the shore, every thing has an appearance, as by enchantment, of moving past you. The river fowl, with their white and extended lines, are wheeling their flight above you. The sky is bright. The river is dotted with boats above you, beside, and below

you.

You hear the echo of their bugle reverberating from the woods. Behind the wooded point you see the ascending column of smoke, rising over the trees, which announces that another steam-boat is approaching you. The moving pageant glides through a narrow passage, between an island, thick set with young cotton woods, so even, so beautiful, and regular, that they seem have been planted for a pleasure ground, and the main shore.

to

As you shoot out again into the broad stream, you come in view of a plantation, with all its busy and cheerful ac