QUICK.

All the little boys and girls,

With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls,

And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls,
Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after
The wonderful music, with shouting and laughter.

РІТСН.

Pitch is the relative key on which one reads or speaks.

LOW.

"Tis midnight's holy hour, and silence now

Is brooding like a gentle spirit, o'er

The still and pulseless world. Hark! on the winds
The bell's deep tones are swelling;-'tis the knell
Of the departed year.

MEDIUM.

In every period of life, the acquisition of knowledge is one of the most pleasing employments of the human mind. But in youth, there are circumstances which make it productive of higher enjoyments. It is then that everything has the charm of novelty; that curiosity and fancy are awake; and that the heart swells with the anticipations of future eminence and utility.

HIGH.

Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again!
I hold to you the hands you first beheld,

To show they still are free.

Go ring the bells, and fire the guns,
And fling the starry banner out;
Shout Freedom! till your lisping ones
Send back their cradle shout!

SLIDES OR INFLECTIONS.

Slide or Inflection is a concrete movement of the voice on words, to give flexibility to speech, and to indicate the sense intended.

FALLING SLIDE.

Be gone!

Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the gods, to intermit the plague

That needs must light on this ingratitude.

Hence, horrible shadow !
Unreal mockery, hence!

RISING SLIDE.

Have you read in the Talmud of old,
In the Legends the Rabbins have told
Of the limitless realms of the air,
Have you read it,-the marvellous story
Of Sandalphon, the angel of Glory,

Sandalphon, the angel of Prayer?

Is not this the carpenter's son? is not his mother called Mary? and his brethren, James, and Joses, and Simon, and Judas? and his sisters, are they not all with us?

RISING AND FALLING SLIDE.

Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my hand and my heart to this vote.

Every young man is now a sower of seed on the field of life. These bright days of youth are the seed-time. Every thought of your intellect, every emotion of your heart, every word of your tongue, every principle you adopt, every act you perform, is a seed whose good or evil fruit will be the bliss or bane of your after-life.

To be, or not to be; that is the question :-
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune;
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?—To die,-to sleep,-
No more; and, by a sleep, to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to,-'tis a consumation
Devoutly to be wished.

SEMITONE.

Give me three grains of corn, mother,
Only three grains of corn.

Can he desert me thus! He knows I stay,
Night after night, in loneliness, to pray
For his return; and yet he sees no tear!
No! no! It can not be! He will be here!

MONOTONE.

So when an angel by divine command,
With rising tempest shakes a guilty land,
Such as of late o'er pale Britannia past,
Calm and serene he drives the furious blast;
And pleased the Almighty's orders to perform,
Rides on the whirlwind, and directs the storm.

Deep in the wave is a coral grove, Where the purple mullet and gold-fish rove, Where the sea-flower spreads its leaves of blue, That never are wet with falling dew,

But in bright and changeful beauty shine

Far down in the green and glassy brine.

THE VOYAGE.

To an American visiting Europe, the long voyage he has to make is an excellent preparative. From the moment you lose sight of the land you have left, all is vacancy, until you step on the opposite shore, and are launched at once into the bustle and novelties of another world.

I have said that at sea all is vacancy. I should correct the expression. To one given up to day-dreaming, and fond of losing himself in reveries, a sea-voyage is full of subjects for meditation; but then they are the wonders of the deep, and of the air, and rather tend to abstract the mind from worldly themes. I delighted to loll over the quarter-railing, or climb to the maintop on a calm day, and muse for hours together on the tranquil bosom of a summer's sea; or to gaze upon the piles of golden clouds just peering above the horizon, fancy them some fairy realms, and people them with a creation of my own; or to watch the gentle undulating billows, rolling their silver volumes as if to die away on those happy shores.

There was a delicious sensation of mingled security and awe, with which I looked down from my giddy height, on the monsters of the deep at their uncouth gambols; shoals of porpoises, tumbling about the bow of the ship; the grampus, slowly heaving his huge form above the surface; or the ravenous shark, darting like a spectre through the blue waters. My imagination would conjure up all that I had heard or read of the watery world beneath me; of the finny herds that roam its fathomless valleys; of shapeless monsters that lurk among the very foundations of the earth; and of those wild phantasms that swell the tales of fishermen and sailors.

Sometimes a distant sail, gliding along the edge of the ocean, would be another theme of idle speculation. How interesting this fragment of a world hastening to rejoin the great mass of existence! What a glorious monument of human invention, that has thus triumphed over wind and wave; has brought the ends of the earth in communion; has established an interchange of blessings, pouring into the sterile regions of the north all the luxuries of the south; diffused the light of knowledge and the charities of cultivated life; and has thus bound together those scattered portions of the human race, between which nature seemed to have thrown an insurmountable barrier!

We one day descried soine shapeless object drifting at a distance. At sea, everything that breaks the monotony of the surrounding expanse, attracts attention. It proved to be the mast of a ship that must have been completely wrecked; for there were the remains of handkerchiefs, by which some of the crew had fastened themselves to this spar, to prevent their being washed off by the waves. There was no trace by which the name of the ship could be ascertained. The wreck had evident

ly drifted about for many months; clusters of shell-fish had fastened about it, and long sea-weeds flaunted at its sides. But where, thought I, is the crew? Their struggle has long been over; they have gone down amidst the roar of the tempest; their bones lie whitening in the caverns of the deep. Silenceoblivion, like the waves, have closed over them; and no one can tell the story of their end.

Washington Irving.

THE FACE AGAINST THE PANE.

Mabel, little Mabel,

With her face against the pane,

Looks out across the night,
And sees the beacon light
A trembling in the rain.

She hears the sea bird screech,
And the breakers on the beach
Making moan, making moan.
And the wind about the eaves
Of the cottage sobs and grieves;
And the willow tree is blown

To and fro, to and fro,

Till it seems like some old crone

Standing out there all alone with her woe!

Wringing, as she stands

Her gaunt and palsied hands;

While Mabel, timid Mabel,

With her face against the pane,
Looks out across the night,
And sees the beacon light
A trembling in the rain.