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wherever it brings gladness to eyes which fail with wakefulness and tears, and ache for the dark house and the long sleep,- there is exhibited, in its noblest form, the immortal influence of Athens.

The dervise, in the Arabian tale, did not hesitate to abandon to his comrade the camels with their load of jewels and gold, while he retained the casket of that mysterious juice, which enabled him to behold at one glance all the riches of the uni

verse.

Surely, it is no exaggeration to say, that no external advantage is to be compared with the purification of the intellectual eye, which gives us to contemplate the infinite wealth of the mental world; all the hoarded treasures of the primeval dynasties, all the shapeless ore of its yet unexplored mines.

This is the gift of Athens to man. Her freedom and her power have for over more than twenty centuries been annihilated; her people have degenerated into timid slaves; her language into a barbarous jargon; her temples have been given to successive depredations of Romans, Turks, and Scotchmen; but her intellectual empire is imperishable.

And, when those who have rivaled her greatness shall have shared her fate: when civilization and knowledge shall have fixed their abode in distant continents; when the scepter shall have passed away from England; when, perhaps, travelers from distant regions shall in vain labor to decipher on some moldering pedestal the name of our proudest chief; shall hear the savage hymns chanted to some misshapen idol over the ruined dome of our proudest temple; and shall see a single naked fish

erman wash his nets in the river of ten thousand masts,―her influence and her glory will still survive,-fresh in eternal youth, exempt from mutability and decay, immortal as the intellectual principle from which they derived their origin, and over which they exercise their control.

THOMAS B. MACAULAY.

Spell and pronounce :—accuracy, disquisition, pedestal, juice, elegance, valuable, supreme, infinite, primeval, degenerated, scaffold, prejudice, dynasties, assuages, gratitude, and eration.

ven

Synonyms.-infinite-boundless; immeasurable; illimitable; interminable; limitless; unlimited; unbounded. valuable-precious; costly; estimable. mutability - changeableness; instability; unsteadiness; inconstancy; fickleness; variableness.

LESSON XCVIII.

eōrps, an organized division of an army.

drăb'bled, soiled by mud and dăsh'ing, bold; rapid. [water.

mär'tial (shăl), military.
fru'gal, saving; economical.
fûr long, the eighth part of a
vălor, heroism; courage. [mile.

THE RIDE OF JENNIE MCNEAL.

Paul Revere was a rider bold

Well has his valorous deed been told;
Sheridan's ride was a glorious one—
Often it has been dwelt upon.

But why should men do all the deeds
On which the love of a patriot feeds?
Hearken to me, while I reveal

The dashing ride of Jennie McNeal.

On a spot as pretty as might be found

In the dangerous length of the Neutral Ground,

In a cottage cozy, and all their own,
She and her mother lived alone.

Safe were the two, with their frugal store,
From all of the many who passed their door;
For Jennie's mother was strange to fears,
And Jennie was large for fifteen years;
With fun her eyes were glistening,

Her hair was the hue of a black-bird's wing.
And while the friends who knew her well
The sweetness of her heart could tell,
A gun that hung on the kitchen wall,
Looked solemnly quick to heed her call;.
And they who were evil-minded knew
Her nerve was strong, and her aim was true;
So all, kind words and acts did deal

To generous, black-eyed Jennie McNeal.

One night, when the sun had crept to bed,
And rain clouds lingered overhead,
And sent their pearly drops for proof
To drum a tune on the cottage roof,
Close after a knock at the outer door,
There entered a dozen dragoons or more.
Their red coats, stained by the muddy road,
That they were British soldiers showed;
The captain, his hostess bent to greet,
Saying "Madam, please give us a bit to eat;
We will pay you well, and if may be,
This bright-eyed girl for pouring our tea;
Then we must dash ten miles ahead,

To catch a rebel colonel abed.

He is visiting home, as doth appear;
We will make his pleasure cost him dear.”
And they fell on the hasty supper with zeal,
Close watched the while by Jennie McNeal.

For the gray-haired colonel they hovered near,
Had been her true friend-kind and dear;
And oft, in her younger days, had he
Right proudly perched her upon his knee,
And told her stories, many a one
Concerning the French war lately done,
And oft together the two friends were,
And many the arts he had taught to her;
She had hunted by his fatherly side;

He had shown her how to fence and ride;
And once had said, “The time may be
Your skill and courage may stand by me."
So sorrow for him she could but feel,
Brave, grateful-hearted Jennie McNeal.

With never a thought or a moment more,
Bareheaded she slipped from the cottage door;
Ran out where the horses were left to feed,
Unhitched and mounted the captain's steed,
And down the hilly and rock-strewn way
She urged the fiery horse of gray.
Around her slender and cloakless form
Pattered and moaned the ceaseless storm;
Secure and tight, a gloveless hand

Grasped the reins with stern command;
And full and black her long hair streamed,
Whenever the ragged lightning gleamed,
And on she rushed for the colonel's weal,
Brave, lioness-hearted Jennie McNeal.

Hark! from the hills a moment mute,
Came a clatter of hoofs in hot pursuit;
And a cry from the foremost trooper said,
"Halt! or your blood be on your head!"

She heeded it not, and not in vain

She lashed the horse with the bridle-rein.
So into the night the gray horse strode;
His shoes heaved fire from the rocky road;
And the high-born courage, that never dies,
Flashed from his rider's coal-black eyes.
The pebbles flew from the fearful race;
The rain-drops splashed on her glowing face.
"On, on, brave beast!" with loud appeal,
Cried eager, resolute Jennie McNeal.

"Halt!" once more came the voice of dread, "Halt! or your blood be on your head!" Then, no one answering to the calls,

Shed after her a volley of balls;

They passed her in her rapid flight,

They screamed to her left, they screamed to her

right.

But rushing still o'er the slippery track,

She sent no token of answer back;

Except a silvery laughter-peal,

Brave, merry-hearted Jennie McNeal.

So on she rushed, at her own good will, Through wood and valley, o'er plain and hill; The gray horse did his duty well,

Till all at once he stumbled and fell,

Himself escaping the nets of harm,

But flinging the girl with a broken arm.
Still undismayed by the numbing pain,
She clung to the horse's bridle-rein,
And gently bidding him to stand,
Petted him with her able hand;
Then sprang again to the saddle-bow,
And shouted, "One more trial now!"

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