LESSON XXI.

On Education.-WASHINGTON Barrow.

1. ALL men, almost without any other exception than such as is produced by physical injury to the organs of the mind, are endowed with some portion of talent, and many, doubtless a far greater number than have the good fortune to meet in youth with the best means of developing it, possess much talent.

2. To the loss of mankind, often to their own sensible loss, this talent, by the culpable negligence of parents and guardians, and, sometimes, by that thoughtlessness and recklessness of the future, so common to youth, is suffered to lie unimproved.

3. The parent, deprived of the means of education in his youth, and early directed to attend exclusively to objects having no connection with the improvement of the mind, willingly deprives his children of those advantages, which habit has taken from him the power to appreciate.

4. Avaricious motives too, often induce parents to withhold the means which education necessarily calls for, and even leads them to use the very beings whom they should strive to train up as blessings of their "day and generation," as passive instruments of gain.

5. Many a mind fitted by nature for high degrees of usefulness, has been criminally struck out from the aggregate of human intellect, for the want of a proper opportu nity of improving and expanding it.

6. And every such loss is a loss to the whole human race. Every parent who has the means within his power, should reflect that he may deprive his country and the world of the wisdom and talent of a Bacon, a Locke, or a Newton, by failing to bestow upon his children a liberal education.

7. The very son, whom he is satisfied to send to an "old field school," may possess intellect and talents, which, had they been properly cultivated and directed, might have added another name to the benefactors and instructors of mankind.

8. All around us we may see the effects of this wretched and criminal policy. How few, comparatively how very

few, well-educated men, have as yet been seen in our own State.

9. With no want of enterprise, no deficiency of those marks by which the possession of intellect is discerned, we seem, in too large a degree, to have considered a thorough education as something beyond our native talent and our pecuniary means.

10. We have looked on contentedly and seen almost every station among us, for which learning is a necessary qualification, filled with the enterprising and more cherished minds of other States.

11. I do not mean to express any jealousy or unkind feelings towards our brethren of this class, who, from any other part of our common country, have found here a home and a scene of usefulness. Far from it. Welcome, thrice welcome to our hearts, be every one who comes hither to advance the interests of science and learning, and shed light upon the powers of the mind.

12. But I wish to present in a strong light-and yet not stronger than just the injury we do to ourselves, to each other, and to our beloved country, in not cultivating to the full extent of its power every mind which the God of nature has placed under our care.

13. And would that I had the abilities of a Pitt or 2 Windham, and the voice of an angel, that I might impress deeply upon the minds of my countrymen, upon the feelings of every patriot, the necessity of education to the wellbeing, to the very existence of our government.

14. No educated man needs be told of the advantages which education has bestowed upon himself. He is not only aware of them in the halls of science, in the courts of law, and the seats of legislation, but he feels them in his common and daily intercourse with his fellow man.

LESSON XXII.

The Infant's Grave.-HARVEY D. LITTLE. How calm are thy slumbers, thou sweet little stranger' Unmindful of sorrow, regardless of danger;

Thy mild spirit left thee as pure as it found thee,

Ere the cold cares of life spread their darkness around thee

Sleep on lovely cherub! no more shalt thou waken⚫
Thy body lies tenantless, cold and forsaken:
No more shall the arms of a parent infold thee,
No more shall the eye of affection behold thee!

Though now thy pale body in death is reclining,
Thy bright, spotless spirit with angels is shining;
For our Savior to us, an assurance has given,
That of such as thou art, is the kingdom of heaven.

LESSON XXIII.

Ancient Mounds.-LONG'S FIRST EXPEDITION.

1. In the prairies of Illinois, opposite St. Louis, are numbers of large Mounds. We counted seventy five in the course of a walk of about five miles, which brought us to the hill occupied a few years since by the monks of La Trappe.

2. This enormous mound lies nearly from north to south, but it is so overgrown with bushes and weeds, interlaced with briars and vines, that we were unable to obtain an accurate account of its dimensions.

3. The survey of these productions of human industry, these monuments without inscription, commemorating the existence of a people once numerous and powerful, but no longer known, or remembered, never fails, though often repeated, to produce an impression of sadness.

4. As we stand upon these mouldering piles, many of them now nearly obliterated, we cannot but compare their aspect of decay, with the freshness of the wide field of nature, which we see reviving around us: their insignificance, with the majestic and imperishable features of the land

scape.

5. We feel the insignificance and the want of permanence in every thing human; we are reminded of what has been so often said of Egypt, and may with equal propriety be applied to all the works of men, "these monuments must

perish, but the grass that grows between their disjointed fragments, shall be renewed from year to year."

LESSON XXIV.

The Orphan's Harp.-JOHN B. DILLON.

THE harp of the orphan is mute and still,
And its notes will cheer us never;
For she who could waken its deepest thrill,
Lies voiceless and cold forever?

She sleeps in the vale where violets bloom,
And the wild rose twines above her:-
No friends to lament o'er her hapless doom,
No kindred to pity, or love her.

Her cheek wore a bloom in her early day,
Ere the tear of sorrow started,

Or childhood's bright dreams had faded away,
And left her broken hearted.

The kind look of pity, or affection, smiled
On the desolate orphan never,

Love's sweet illusions her heart had beguiled-
Then left it in gloom forever!

The depth of her anguish none could know
Her emotions were never spoken,

But the hope of Heaven a gleam can throw-
Of joy, o'er the heart that is broken.
She passed from earth like the pensive light,
Which slowly fades at even;

And her spotless spirit hath winged its flight,
To its own bright home in Heaven.

Her harp hangs alone:-its music is hushed,
And will waken no more on the morrow;
For the heart that loved its tones, were crushed
By its own deep weight of sorrow.
No sigh is breathed o'er her lonely tomb-
No eyes are dim with weeping,

But the violet and the wild rose bloom

O'er the grave where the orphan is sleeping.

The Stranger's Grave.-OTWAY CURRY. I SAW thee languish. Thou wast where No pitying arm was stretched to save:-I saw thee borne on the rough bier

By strangers to the grave.

They've laid thee here; and I alone,
With stainless flowers have decked thy bed;
And I have raised this nameless stone

Above thy lowly head.

And thou canst never more awake,
Though gentle eyes for thee should weep;
Nor kindred sorrows ever break

Thy long undreaming sleep.

But thou wilt lie in this dark cell,

Beneath the unconscious clay;

While they, whom thou hast loved so well,
Will chide thy long delay.

And they will wait for thy return,
At home, sweet home! so far away—
For many a bright returning morn,

And many a twilight gray.

And oft when lingering hope has fled,
Affection's tear for thee will flow,
While thou art slumbering in that bed,
Affection cannot know.

Yet when a few more years are fled,
They'll meet thee in the bright abode;
And thou and they together tread

The star-embossed road.

Oh! then, at life's immortal springs,

How sweet with those dear friends to bow→ Where peace and joy on Seraph wings

Sublime are circling now..