LV. THE NOSE AND THE EYES.

William Cowper (b. 1731, d. 1800) was the son of an English clergyman, and was born in Great Berkhampstead, Hertfordshire, England. He was sent to Westminster School when he was ten years of age, and he remained there, a diligent student, eight years. He then studied law, and was admitted to the bar, but he never practiced his profession. He was appointed to a clerkship in the House of Lords when he was about thirty years old, but he never entered upon the discharge of his duties. He became insane, and was sent to a private asylum. After his recovery, he found a home in the family of the Rev. Mr. Unwin. On the death of this gentleman, he resided with the widow till her death-most of the time at Olney. His first writings were published in 1782. "The Task," some hymns, a number of minor poems, and his translations of Homer composed his published works. His insanity returned at times, and darkened a pure and gentle life at its close.

1. BETWEEN Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose;
The spectacles set them, unhappily, wrong;
The point in dispute was, as all the world knows,
To which the said spectacles ought to belong.

2. So Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause, With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning, While chief baron Ear sat to balance the laws,

So famed for his talent in nicely discerning.

3. "In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear,
And your lordship," he said, "will undoubtedly find
That the Nose has the spectacles always to wear,
Which amounts to possession, time out of mind."

4. Then, holding the spectacles up to the court, "Your lordship observes, they are made with a straddle As wide as the ridge of the Nose is; in short, Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle.

5. "Again, would your lordship a moment suppose ('Tis a case that has happened, and may happen again,) That the visage or countenance had not a Nose,

Pray, who would or who could wear spectacles then?

6. "On the whole it appears, and my argument shows,
With a reasoning the court will never condemn,
That the spectacles, plainly, were made for the Nose,
And the Nose was, as plainly, intended for them."

7. Then shifting his side (as a lawyer knows how),
He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes:
But what were his arguments, few people know,
For the court did not think them equally wise.

8. So his lordship decreed, with a grave, solemn tone, Decisive and clear, without one if or but,

That whenever the Nose put his spectacles on,

By daylight or candle-light,-Eyes should be shut.

DEFINITIONS.-2. Ar'gued, discussed, treated by reasoning. Dişçern'ing (pro. diz-zẽrn ́ing), marking as different, distinguishing. 3. Be-hälf', support, defense. 8. De-ereed', determined judicially by authority, ordered.

LVI. AN ICEBERG.

Louis Legrand Noble (b. 1812, - was born in Otsego County, New York. When twelve years of age, he removed with his family to the wilds of Michigan, but after the death of his father he returned to New York to study for the ministry, which he entered in 1840. About this time he published his first productions, two Indian romances in the form of poems, entitled "Pewatem" and "Nimahmin." Mr. Noble lived for a time in North Carolina, and later at Catskill on the Hudson, where he became a warm friend of the artist Cole. After the latter's death he wrote a memorial of him. Other works of this author are "The Hours, and other Poems," and "After Icebergs with a Painter," from which this selection is taken.

1. WE have just passed a fragment of some one of the surrounding icebergs that had amused us. It bore the resemblance of a huge polar bear, reposing upon the base of an inverted cone, with a twist of a sea-shell, and whirling slowly round and round. The ever-attending green

(5.-12.)

water, with its aerial clearness, enabled us to see its spiral folds and horns as they hung suspended in the deep.

2. The bear, a ten-foot mass in tolerable proportion, seemed to be regularly beset by a pack of hungry little swells. First, one would take him on the haunch, then whip back into the sea over his tail and between his legs. Presently a bolder swell would rise and pitch into his back with a ferocity that threatened instant destruction. It only washed his satin fleece the whiter.

3. While Bruin was turning to look the daring assailant in the face, the rogue had pitched himself back into his cave. No sooner that, than a very bull-dog of a billow would attack him in the face. The serenity with which the impertinent assault was borne was complete. It was but a puff of silvery dust, powdering his mane with fresher brightness. Nothing would be left of bull but a little froth of all the foam displayed in the fierce onset. He too would turn and scud into his hiding-place.

4. Persistent little waves! After a dash, singly, all around, upon the common enemy, as if by some silent agreement under water, they would all rush on at once, with their loudest roar and shaggiest foam, and overwhelm poor bear so completely that nothing less might be expected than to behold him broken in four quarters, and floating helplessly asunder. Mistaken spectators! Although, by his momentary rolling and plunging, he was evidently aroused, yet neither Bruin nor his burrow were at all the worse for all the wear and washing.

5. The deep fluting, the wrinkled folds, and cavities, over and through which the green and silvery water rushed back into the sea, rivaled the most exquisite sculpture. And nature not only gives her marbles, with the finest lines, the most perfect lights and shades, she colors them also. She is no monochromist, but polychroic, imparting such touches of dove-tints, emerald, and azure as she bestows upon her gems and skies.

6. We are bearing up under the big berg as closely as we dare. To our delight, what we have been wishing and watching for is actually taking place: loud explosions, with heavy falls of ice, followed by the cataract-like roar, and the high, thin seas, wheeling away beautifully crested with sparkling foam. If it is possible, imagine the effect upon the beholder: this precipice of ice, with tremendous cracking, is falling toward us with a majestic and awful motion.

7. Down sinks the long water-line into the black deep; down go the porcelain crags and galleries of glassy sculpture-a speechless and awful baptism. Now it pauses, and returns up rise sculptures and crags streaming with the shining white brine; up comes the great encircling line, followed by things new and strange-crags, niches, balconies, and caves; up, up it rises, higher, and higher still, crossing the very breast of the grand ice, and all bathed with rivulets of gleaming foam. Over goes the summit, ridge, pinnacles, and all, standing off obliquely in the opposite air. Now it pauses in its upward roll: back it comes again, cracking, cracking, cracking, "groaning out harsh thunder" as it comes, and threatening to burst, like a mighty bomb, into millions of glittering fragments. The spectacle is terrific and magnificent. Emotion is irrepressible, and peals of wild hurrah burst forth from all.

DEFINITIONS. -1. Cōne, a solid body having a circular base, from which it tapers gradually to a point. 2. Swěllş, waves. 3. Se-ren i-ty, quietness, calmness. 5. Ex'qui-site, exceedingly nice, giving rare satisfaction. Seŭlpt'ure, carved work. Mon'o-chromist, one who paints in a single color. Pol-y-chrō'ie, given to the use of many colors. 7. Pin'na-eleş, high, spire-like points. Ob-lïque ́ly, slantingly. Ir-re-press'i-ble, not to be restrained.

NOTE. Only about one eighth of an iceberg appears above the surface of the water. When one side of it grows heavier than another, through unequal melting and the action of the waves, the whole mass rolls over in the water in the manner so well described in this lesson.

LVII. ABOUT QUAIL.

William Post Hawes (b. 1803, d. 1842) was born in New York City, and was a graduate of Columbia College. He was a lawyer by profession. His writings consist mainly of essays, contributed to various newspapers and magazines, and show great descriptive power. He was a frequent contributor to the "Spirit of the Times," under the title of "Cypress, Jr.," on various sporting topics. After his death a collection of his writings was published in two volumes, entitled, "Sporting Scenes" and "Sundry Sketches."

1. THE quail is peculiarly a domestic bird, and is attached to his birthplace and the home of his forefathers. The various members of the aquatic families educate their children in the cool summer of the far north, and bathe their warm bosoms in July in the iced waters of Hudson Bay; but when Boreas scatters the rushes where they had builded their bed-chambers, they desert their fatherland, and fly to disport in the sunny waters of the south.

2. The songsters of the woodland, when their customary crops of insects and berries are cut off in the fall, gather themselves to renew their loves and get married in more genial climes. Presently, the groves so vocal, and the sky so full, shall be silent and barren. The "melancholy days" will soon be here; only thou, dear Bob White, wilt remain.

3. The quail is the bird for me. He is no rover, no emigrant. He stays at home, and is identified with the soil. Where the farmer works, he lives, and loves, and whistles. In budding spring-time, and in scorching summer-in bounteous autumn, and in barren winter, his voice is heard from the same bushy hedge fence, and from his customary cedars. Cupidity and cruelty may drive him to the woods, and to seek more quiet seats; but be merciful and kind to him, and he will visit your barn-yard, and sing for you upon the boughs of the apple-tree by your gateway.

4. When warm May first wooes the young flowers to open and receive her breath, then begin the cares and re