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of a warrior upon a white horse. His final advent, or Avatar, as it is termed, is thus sublimely represented :

"He comes! dread Brama shakes the sunless sky With murmuring wrath, and thunders from on high! Heaven's fiery horse, beneath his warrior form, Paws the light clouds, and gallops on the storm. Wide waves his flickering sword; his bright arms glow Like summer suns, and light the world below. Earth, and her trembling isles in ocean's bed, Are shook; and Nature rocks beneath his tread. To pour redress on India's injured realm; The oppressor to dethrone, the proud to whelm ; To chase destruction from her plundered shore, With arts and arms that triumphed once before; The Tenth Avatar comes! at Heaven's command Shall Seriswattee wave her hallowed wand. And Camdeo bright, and Ganesa sublime, Shall bless with joy their own propitious clime. Come, Heavenly Powers! primeval Peace restore ! Love! Mercy! Wisdom! rule for evermore!"

EXERCISES.

1. Pleasures of Memory. 2. First Book of Paradise Lost. 3. Milton's Comus. 4. Cowper's Winter Evening. 5. Pope's Temple of Fame. 6. Goldsmith's Deserted Village. 7. Thomson's Castle of Indolence. 8. Wilson's Isle of Palms. 9. Scott's Marmion. 10. The Lady of the Lake. 11. Shakspere's Play of the Tempest. 12. Macbeth.

SECTION II.

EPISTOLARY EXERCISES.

Write Letters from the hints contained in each of the following skeletons.

MODELS.

I.-Couper to Lady Hesketh.

MY DEAR LADY HESKETH,

Huntingdon, July 5, 1765.

As far as I am acquainted with this place, I like it extremely. Mr Hodgson, the minister of the parish,

made me a visit yesterday. He is very sensible, a good preacher, and conscientious in the discharge of his duty. He is very well known to Dr Newton, bishop of Bristol, the author of the Treatise on the Prophecies, one of our best bishops, and who has written the most demonstrative proof of the truth of Christianity, in my mind, that ever was published.

There is a village called Hertford, about a mile and a half from hence. The church there is very prettily situated upon a rising ground, so close to the river, that it washes the wall of the churchyard. I found an epitaph there the other morning, the first lines of which being better than anything else I saw there, I made shift to remember. It is by a widow on her husband.

"Thou wast too good to live on earth with me,

And I not good enough to die with thee.”

The distance of this place from Cambridge is the worst circumstance belonging to it. My brother and I are fifteen miles asunder, which, considering that I came hither for the sake of being near him, is rather too much. I wish that young man was better known in the family. He has as many good qualities as his nearest kindred could wish to find in him.

As Mr Quin very roundly expressed himself upon some such occasion, "here is plentiful accommodation and great happiness of provision;" so that if I starve, it must be through forgetfulness rather than scarcity. Fare thee well my good and dear cousin,

Ever yours,

II.-Cowper to Lady Hesketh.

MY DEAR COUSIN,

W. C.

Huntingdon, October 10, 1765.

I should grumble at your long silence, if I did not know that one may love one's friends very well, though one is not always in a humour to write them. Besides, I have

the satisfaction of being perfectly sure, that you have at least twenty times recollected the debt you owe me, and as often resolved to pay it; and, perhaps, while you remain indebted to me, you think of me twice as often as you would do, if the account was clear. These are the reflections with which I comfort myself under the affliction of not hearing from you. My temper does not incline me to jealousy; and if it did, I should set it right by having recourse to what I have already received from you.

I thank God for your friendship, and for every friend I have; for all the pleasing circumstances here, for my health of body, and perfect serenity of mind. To recollect the past, and compare it with the present, is all I have need of to fill me with gratitude, and to be grateful is to be happy. Not that I think myself sufficiently thankful, or that I ever shall be so in this life. The warmest heart, perhaps, only feels by fits, and is often as insensible as the coldest. This at least is frequently the case with mine, and oftener than it should be. But the mercy that can forgive iniquity, will never be severe to mark our frailties; to that mercy, my dear cousin, I commend you, with earnest wishes for your welfare, and remain your ever affectionate

W. C.

III.-Lady M. W. Montagu to the Countess of Marr. Rotterdam, August 3, 1716.

I flatter myself, dear sister, that I shall give you some pleasure in letting you know that I have safely passed the sea, though we had the ill fortune of a storm. We were persuaded by the captain of the yacht to set out in a calm, and he pretended there was nothing so easy as to tide it over; but, after two days slowly moving, the wind blew so hard, that none of the sailors could keep their feet, and we were all Sunday night tossed very handsomely. I never saw a man more frighted than the captain.

For my part, I have been so lucky neither to suffer

from fear nor sea-sickness; though, I confess, I was so impatient to see myself once more upon dry land, that I would not stay till the yacht could get to Rotterdam, but went in the long-boat to Helvoetsluys, where we had voitures to carry us to the Brill.

I was charmed with the neatness of that little town; but my arrival at Rotterdam presented me a new scene of pleasure. All the streets are paved with broad stones, and before many of the artificers' doors are placed seats of various-coloured marbles, so neatly kept, that I assure you I walked almost all over the town yesterday, incognita, in my slippers, without receiving one spot of dirt; and you may see the Dutch maids washing the pavement of the street with more application than ours do our bedchambers. The town seems so full of people, with such busy faces, all in motion, that I can hardly fancy it is not some celebrated fair; but I see it is every day the same. 'Tis certain no town can be more advantageously situated for commerce. Here are seven large canals, on which the merchants' ships come up to the very doors of their houses. The shops and warehouses are of a surprising neatness and magnificence, filled with an incredible quantity of fine merchandise, and so much cheaper than what we see in England, that I have much ado to persuade myself I am still so near it. IV.-Miss Robinson to Mrs Donellan.

DEAR MRS DONELLAN,

Bullstrode, January 1, 1742.

Though there is no day in the year in which one does not wish all happiness to one's friends, this is the day in which the heart goes forth in particular vows and wishes for the welfare of those we love. It is the birth of a new year whose entrance we would salute, and hope auspicious. Nor is this particular mark of time of little use; it teaches us to number our days, which a wise man thought an incitement to the well spending of them.

And indeed, did we consider how

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much the pleasure and profit of our lives depend upon the economy of our time, we should not waste it as we do in idle regret or reflection on the past, or in a vain, unuseful regard for the future. In our youth, we defer being prudent till we are old, and look forward to a promise of wisdom as the portion of latter years; when we are old, we seek not to improve, and we scarcely employ ourselves: we look backward to our youth as to the day of our diligence, and take a pride in laziness, saying, we rest, as after the accomplishment of our undertakings. We ought to ask for our daily merit as for our daily bread. The mind, no more than the body, can be sustained by the food taken yesterday, or promised for to-morrow. Every day ought to be considered as a period apart; some virtue should be exercised, some knowledge improved, some pleasure comprehended in it. Many look upon the present day as only the day before to-morrow, and wear it out with a weary impatience of its length. I pity those people who are ever in pursuit, but never in possession. I would wish myself as little anxious as possible about the future; for the event of things generally mocks our foresight, eludes our care, and shows us how vain is the labour of anxiety.

May the sun every day this year, when it rises, find you well with yourself; and, at its setting, leave you happy with your friends! Let yours be rather the felicity of ease and contentment, than the ecstacy of mirth and joy! May your mind repose in virtue and truth, and never in indolence or negligence! That you already know much is the best incitement to know more; if you study trifles, you neglect two excellent things, knowledge and your own understanding. I wish we were as cautious of unbending the mind, as we are of relaxing our nerves. I should as soon be afraid of stretching a glove till it was too strait, as of making the understanding and capacity narrow by extending them to things of a large comprehension; yet this is a common notion.

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