And thou art cabin'd and confined,
At once from sun, and dew, and wind,
Or set thy tottering feet but on

Thy lengthen'd walks of slippery stone.

5. Fly from the town, sweet child! for health
Is happiness, and strength, and wealth.
There is a lesson in each flower,

A story in each stream and bower;
On every herb o'er which you tread
Are written words which, rightly read,
Will lead you, from earth's fragrant sod,
To hope, and holiness, and GOD.

LESSON LV.

LIFE'S BAUBLES.

POPE.

[ALEXANDER POPE, a celebrated poet, was born in London, England, in 1688. Though born deformed, small in size, and delicate in constitution, he was a literary infant prodigy. He wrote a play before he was twelve years old, and, to use his own words, he "lisped in numbers." His Essay on Criticism, Essay on Man, and his translation of the Iliad, are his most celebrated works. He died in 1744.

In the following lesson the various baubles which please man in the various stages of life are first. contrasted, antithetically: then want and hope, folly and joy, our different prospects, and, finally, man's folly and God's wisdom.]

1. BEHOLD the child, by nature's kindly law
Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw:
Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight,
A little louder, but as empty quite:
Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage,
And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age:
Pleased with this bauble still, as that before,
"Till tired he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er.

2. Meanwhile, opinion gilds, with varying rays,
Those painted clouds that beautify our days:
Each want of happiness', by hope supplied',
And each vacuity of sense', by pride':
These build as fast as knowledge can destroy:
In folly's cup still laughs the bubble joy.

3. One prospect lost', another still we gain';
And not a vanity is given in vain:

Even mean self-love becomes', by force divine',
The scale to measure others' wants', by thine'.
See! and confess, one comfort still must rise;
'Tis this; though man's a fool, yet God is wise.

LESSON LVI.

DRYDEN AND POPE.

SAMUEL JOHNSON.

THE style of Dryden is capricious and varied; that of Pope is cautious and uniform. Dryden obeys the motions of his own mind; Pope constrains his mind to his own rules of composition. Dryden is sometimes vehement and rapid; Pope is always smooth, uniform, and gentle. Dryden's page is a natural field, rising into inequalities, and diversified by the varied exuberance of abundant vegetation; Pope's is a velvet lawn, shaven by the scythe, and leveled by the roller. If the flights of Dryden are higher, Pope continues longer on the wing. If of Dryden's fire the blaze is brighter, of Pope's the heat is more regular and constant. Dryden often surpasses expectation; Pope never falls below it. Dryden is read with frequent astonishment, and Pope with perpetual delight.

LESSON LVII.

CHATHAM AND BURKE.

HAZLITT.

[WILLIAM HAZLITT, a distinguished critic and miscellaneous writer, was born in England in 1778; died in 1830. From his "Eloquence of the British Senate," a work in two volumes, the following antithetical extract is taken.]

1. CHATHAM and Burke were in every respect the reverse of each other. Chatham's eloquence was popular: his wisdom was altogether plain and practical. Burke's eloquence was that of the poet; of the man of high and unbounded fancy his wisdom was profound and contemplative.

2. Chatham's eloquence was calculated to make men act;

Burke's calculated to make them think. Chatham could have roused the fury of a multitude, and wielded their physical energy as he pleased: Burke's eloquence carried conviction into the mind of the retired and lonely student', opened the recesses of the human breast', and lighted up the face of nature around him.

3. Chatham supplied his hearers with motives to immediate action: Burke furnished them with reasons for action, which might have little effect upon them at the time, but for which they would be wiser and better all their lives after.

4. In research, in originality, in variety of knowledge, in richness of invention, in depth and comprehension of mind, Burke had as much the advantage of Lord Chatham', as he was excelled by him in plain common sense, in strong feeling, in steadiness of purpose, in vehemence, in warmth, in enthusiasm and energy of mind.

5. Burke was the man of genius', of fine sense', and subtle reasoning'; Chatham was a man of clear understanding', of strong sense', and violent passions. Burke's mind was satisfied with speculation; Chatham's was essentially active; it could not rest without an object. The power which governed Burke's mind was his Imagination; that which gave its impetus to Chatham's was Will. The one was almost the creature of pure intellect', the other of physical temperament'.

LESSON LVIII.

DISCRETION AND CUNNING.

ADDISON.

[JOSEPH ADDISON, a true Christian scholar, and one of the brightest ornaments of English literature, was born in England in 1672. As an essayist he is unrivaled. The Spectator alone would have immortalized his name. He died in 1719.]

1. THOUGH a man has all other perfections, and wants discretion, he will be of no great consequence in the world; but, if he has this single talent in perfection, and but a common share of others, he may do what he pleases in his particular situation of life. At the same time that I think discretion' the most useful talent a man can be master of', I look upon cunning to be the accomplishment of little, mean, ungenerous minds.

2. Discretion' points out the noblest ends to us, and pursues the most proper and laudable methods of attaining them. Cunning has only private, selfish aims, and sticks at nothing which may make them succeed. Discretion has large and extended views', and, like a well-formed eye", commands a whole horizon. Cunning is a kind of shortsightedness', which discovers the minutest objects which are near at hand', but is not able to discern things at a distance. 3. Discretion', the more it is discovered, gives a greater authority to the person who possesses it. Cunning, when it is once detected, loses its force, and makes a man incapable of bringing about even those events which he might have done, had he passed only for a plain man. Discretion is the perfection of reason', and a guide to us in all the duties of life: cunning is a kind of instinct that looks out after our immediate interests and welfare.

4. Discretion is only found in men of strong sense and good understandings: cunning is often to be met with in. brutes themselves, and in persons who are the fewest removes from them. In short', cunning is only the mimic of discretion, and may pass upon weak men, in the same manner as vivacity is often mistaken for wit', and gravity for wisdom'.

LESSON LIX.

THE INFIDEL AND THE CHRISTIAN.

Cowper.

[WILLIAM COWPER, one of the truest and best of English poets, was born in 1731. He was, constitutionally, too timid ever to appear in public life, and for years he suffered under the scourge of insanity. He died in the year 1800.

The Infidel and Christian are here described antitheticaly. In the third division of the piece, the antithesis is most clearly apparent.]

I. THE BRILLIANT INFIDEL.

1. THE path to bliss abounds with many a snare: Learning is one, and wit, however rare.

The Frenchman, first in literary fame

(Mention him if you please. Voltaire'? The same), With spirit, genius, eloquence supplied,

Lived long', wrote much', laugh'd heartily, and died'.

2. The Scripture was his jest-book, whence he drew
Bon-mots to gall the Christian and the Jew:
An infidel in health; but what when sick`?
Oh-then a text would touch him to the quick.
View him at Paris, in his last career,—
Surrounding throngs the demigod revere:
Exalted on his pedestal of pride,

And fumed with frankincense on every side,
He begs their flattery with his latest breath,—
And smothered in't at last, is praised to death.

II. THE HUMBLE CHRISTIAN.

3. Yon cottager, who weaves at her own door,
Pillow and bobbins all her little store,
Content', though mean`, and cheerful', if not gay',
Shuffling her thread about the livelong day,
Just earns a scanty pittance, and at night
Lies down secure, her head and pocket light.

4. She, for her humble sphere by nature fit,
Has little understanding, and no wit;

Receives no praise: but though her lot be such
(Toilsome and indigent), she renders much:
Just knows, and knows no more, her Bible true,—
A truth the brilliant Frenchman never knew;
And in that charter reads, with sparkling eyes,
Her title to a treasure in the skies.

III. THE REWARD.

5. Oh happy peasant! Oh unhappy bard'!
His the mere tinsel', hers the rich reward';
He, praised', perhaps', for ages yet to come';
She ̄, never heard of half a mile from home';
He lost in errors his vain heart prefers,
She safe in the simplicity of hers.

a BON'MOTS (bong'mos), French: jests, witticisms. The first syllable is pronounced half way between ba and bong.