and laying his left hand upon his breast-a slender white staff with which he journeyed being in his right—when I had got close up to him, he introduced himself with the little story of the wants of his convent and the poverty of his order, and did it with so simple a grace, and such an air of deprecation was there in the whole cast of his look and figure, I was bewitched not to have been struck with it. A better reason was, I had predetermined not to give him a single sous.

4. ""Tis very true," said I, replying to a cast upward with his eyes, with which he had concluded his address—“'tis very true; and Heaven be their resource who have no other than the charity of the world, the stock of which, I fear, is no way sufficient for the many great claims which are hourly made upon it." As I pronounced the words great claims, he gave a slight glance with his eyes downward upon the sleeve of his tunic. I felt the force of the appeal.

5. "I acknowledge it," said I-"a coarse habit, and that but once in three years, with meagre diet, are no great matters; but the true point of pity is, as they can be earned in the world with so little industry, that your order should wish to procure them by pressing upon a fund which is the property of the lame, the blind, the aged and the infirm. The captive who lies down counting over and over again the days of his affliction languishes also for his share of it; and had you been of the order of mercy, instead of the order of St. Francis, poor as I am," continued I, pointing at my portmanteau, "full cheerfully should it have been opened to you for the ransom of the unfortunate."

6. The monk made me a bow. "But," resumed I, "the unfortunate of our own country surely have the first right, and I have left thousands in distress upon the English shore." The monk gave a cordial wave with his head, as much as to say, "No doubt there is misery enough in every corner of the world as well as within our convent." “But we distinguish,” said I, laying my hand upon the sleeve of his tunic in return for his appeal-"we distinguish, my good father, betwixt those who wish only to eat the bread of their own labor and those

who eat the bread of other people's, and have no other plan in life but to get through in sloth and ignorance for the love of heaven."

7. The poor Franciscan made no reply. A hectic of a moment passed across his cheek, but could not tarry. Nature seemed to have done with her resentments in him; he showed none, but letting his staff fall within his arms, he pressed both his hands with resignation upon his breast and retired.

8. My heart smote me the moment he shut the door; every ungracious syllable I had uttered crowded back into my imagination. I reflected I had no right over the poor Franciscan but to deny him, and that the punishment of that was enough to the disappointed without the addition of unkind language. I considered his gray hairs. His courteous figure seemed to re-enter and gently ask me what injury he had done me and why I could use him thus. I would have given twenty livres for an advocate. "I have behaved very ill," said I within myself; "but I have only just set out on my travels, and shall learn better manners as I get along."

STERNE.

SELECT ETYMOLOGIES.-Advocate: fr. the L. ad'voco, advoca'tum, to call or summon one to a place; fr. ad, to, voc'o, I call; fr. vox, vo'cis, voice; h., con-vocate, con-voke, equi-vocal, equi-vocate, e-voke, in-vocate, ir-re-vocable, pro-voke, re-voke, vocable, vocabulary, vocal, vocation, vocative, vociferate, voice, vouch (to call to witness), vowel, etc. ., . Deprecation: L. depreca'tio: fr. de'precor, depreca'tus, to ward off by praying; fr. de, from, and prec'or, preca'tus, to beg, to pray; h., im-precate, pray, precarious (L. preca'rius, got by begging), etc. ... Entreat: fr. en and treat: v. TREAT. . . . Hectic fr. the Gr. hěk'tikos, habitual; h., consumptive; fr. hex'is (ë§is), habit. Meagre: fr. the L. ma'cer, mac'rum, lean. Monk: L. mon'achus; fr. the Gr. mon'achos (μovaxòs), living alone; fr. mon'òs, alone. Portmanteau: F. porte-man'teau; fr. porter (pōr-tā), to carry, manteau (man-tō), a cloak, a mantle. . . . Purse: fr. the Gr. bur'sa, skin or hide stripped off.... Ransom: fr. the L. redemptio: v. REDEEM. . . . Reverence: L. re-věr'eor, rever'itus, to step back from out of awe; fr. re, back, and vereor, I feel awe of. Tonsure: a clipping of the hair, the place clipped; L. tonsu'ra; fr. ten'deo, ton'sum, to shear. . . . Tunic: L. tun'ica, an undergarment of the Romans.

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The Franciscans were an order of mendicant monks or friars, founded by St. Francis in 1209. They were also called Gray or Minor Friars from their gray clothing and their humility. St. Francis died in 1226.

THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.

I.

THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

II.

Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset was seen;
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
That host, on the morrow, lay withered and strown.

III.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he past;

And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved and for ever grew still.

IV.

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,

But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;

And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,

And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

V.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,

With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

VI.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord.

BYRON.

LXI. THE ORGAN-BLOWER.

I.

DEVOUTEST of my Sunday friends,
The patient organ-blower bends;
I see his figure sink and rise

(Forgive me, Heaven, my wandering eyes!), A moment lost, the next half seen

His head above the scanty screen,
Still measuring out his deep salams

Through quavering hymns and panting psalms.

II.

No priest that prays in gilded stole
To save a rich man's mortgaged soul,
No sister, fresh from holy vows,
So humbly stoops, so meekly bows;
His large obeisance puts to shame
The proudest genuflecting dame
Whose Easter bonnet low descends
With all the grace devotion lends.

III.

O brother with the supple spine,
How much we owe those bows of thine!

Without thine arm to lend the breeze,

How vain the finger on the keys!

Though all unmatched the player's skill, Those thousand throats were dumb and still;

Another's art may shape the tone,

The breath that fills it is thine own.

IV.

Six days the silent Memnon waits
Behind his temple's folded gates;
But when the seventh day's sunshine falls
Through rainbowed windows on the walls,

He breathes, he sings, he shouts, he fills The quivering air with rapturous thrills; The roof resounds, the pillars shake, And all the slumbering echoes wake!

V.

The preacher from the Bible-text
With weary words my soul has vexed;
(Some stranger, fumbling far astray
To find the lesson for the day);
He tells us truths too plainly true,
And reads the service all askew ;
Why-why the mischief-can't he look
Beforehand in the service-book?

VI.

But thou, with decent mien and face,
Art always ready in thy place;
Thy strenuous blast, whate'er the tune,
As steady as the strong monsoon;
Thy only dread a leathery creak,
Or small residual extra squeak,
To send along the shadowy isles
A sunlit wave of dimpled smiles.

VII.

Not all the preaching, O my friend,
Comes from the church's pulpit end,
Not all that bend the knee and bow
Yield service half so true as thou.
One simple task performed aright,
With slender skill, but all thy might;
Where honest labor does its best

And leaves the player all the rest!

VIII.

This many-diapasoned maze

Through which the breath of being strays,