greater and loftier poets than Cowper, but none so entirely incorporated, as it were, with our daily existence-none so completely a friend-our companion in woodland wanderings, and in moments of serious thought-ever gentle and affectionate, even in his transient fits of ascetic gloom-a pure mirror of affections, regrets, feelings, and desires which we have all felt or would wish to cherish. Shakspeare, Spenser, and Milton are spirits of ethereal kind: Cowper is a steady and valuable friend, whose society we may sometimes neglect for that of more splendid and attractive associates, but whose unwavering principle and purity of character, joined to rich intellectual powers, overflow upon us in secret, and bind us to him forever."

CHAPTER XXII.-MISCELLANEOUS.

I.-The Power of Habit.

1. I remember once riding with a gentleman from Buffalo to Niagara Falls. I said to him, "What river is that, sir ?"

"That," said he, "is Niagara river."

"It is a beautiful stream," said I; "bright, and fair, and glassy. How far off are the rapids?"

"Only a mile or two," was the reply.

"Is it possible that, only a mile from us, we shall find the water in the turbulence which it must show near the Falls?"

"You will find it so, sir," he replied. And so I found it; and the first sight of Niagara I shall never forget.

2. Now, my young friends, let us suppose a case-and make it your own. Launch your bark on that Niagara river; it is bright, smooth, beautiful, and glassy there. There is a ripple at the bow of your craft; the silver wake that you leave behind adds to your enjoyment. Down the

stream you glide, oars, sails, and helm in proper trim, and you set out on your pleasure excursion.

Suddenly some one cries out from the bank, "Young men, ahoy!"

"What is it?"

"The rapids are below you!"

3. "Ha! ha! we have heard of the rapids; but we are not such fools as to get there. If we find we are going too fast, then we shall up with the helm, and steer to the shore; we will set the mast in the socket, hoist the sail, and speed to the land. Then on, boys! don't be alarmed, there is no danger."

"Young men, ahoy there!"

"What is it?"

"The rapids are below you!"

4. "Ha! ha! we will laugh and quaff; all things delight us. What care we for the future! No man ever saw it. Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. We will enjoy life while we may, and catch pleasure as it flies. This is enjoyment; time enough to steer out of danger when we see it."

"YOUNG MEN, AHOY!" "What is it?"

"BEWARE! BEWARE!

THE RAPIDS ARE BELOW YOU!"

5. "Now you see the water foaming all around. See how fast you pass that point! Up with the helm! Now turn! Pull hard! Quick! quick! quick! Pull for your lives! Pull till the blood starts from your nostrils, and the veins stand like whip-cords upon your brow! Set the mast in the socket! Hoist the sail!"

Ah! ah! it is too late! Shricking, howling, blaspheming;-over they go.

Thousands go over the rapids of Intemperance every year, through the power of habit, crying all the while, "When I find out that it is injuring me, I will give it up!"

John B. Gough.

II. Which Shall it Be?

1. "Which shall it be? Which shall it be?" I looked at John-John looked at me; (Dear, patient John, who loves me yet As well as though my locks were jet ;) And when I found that I must speak, My voice seemed strangely low and weak: "Tell me again what Robert said!" And then I, listening, bent my head. "This is his letter:

2.

3.

666

"I will give
A house and land while you shall live,
If, in return, from out your seven,
One child to me for aye is given.''
I looked at John's old garments worn,
I thought of all that John had borne
Of poverty, and work, and care,
Which I, though willing, could not share;
I thought of seven mouths to feed,

Of seven little children's need,

And then of this.

"Come, John," said I,

"We'll choose among them as they lie
Asleep." So, walking hand in hand,
Dear John and I surveyed our band ;—
First to the cradle lightly stepped,
Where Lilian, the baby, slept,
A glory 'gainst the pillow white.
Softly the father stooped to lay
His rough hand down in loving way,
When dream or whisper made her stir,
And huskily he said, "Not her!"

4. We stooped beside the trundle-bed,
And one long ray of lamp-light shed
Athwart the boyish faces there,
In sleep so pitiful and fair:

I saw on Jamie's rough, red cheek
A tear undried. Ere John could speak,
"He's but a baby, too," said I,
And kissed him as we hurried by.

5. Pale, patient Robbie's angel face
Still in his sleep bore suffering's trace.
"No, for a thousand crowns, not him,"
He whispered, while our eyes were dim.

6. Poor Dick! bad Dick! our wayward son,
Turbulent, reckless, idle one-

Could he be spared? "Nay, He who gave,
Bade us befriend him to the

grave;
Only a mother's heart can be

Patient enough for such as he;

And so," said John, "I would not dare
To send him from her bedside prayer."

7. Then stole we softly up above,
And knelt by Mary, child of love.
"Perhaps for her 'twould better be,"
I said to John. Quite silently
He lifted up a curl that lay

Across her cheek in wilful way,

And shook his head. "Nay, love, not thee,"
The while my heart beat audibly.

8. Only one more, our eldest lad,
Trusty and truthful, good and glad-
So like his father. No, John, no-
I cannot, will not let HIM go."

9. And so we wrote, in courteous way,
We could not give one child away.
And afterward, toil lighter seemed,
Thinking of that of which we dreamed;
Happy, in truth, that not one face
We missed from its accustomed place;
Thankful to work for all the seven,-
Trusting the rest to One in heaven!

Mrs. E. L. Beers.

CHAPTER XXIII.-PATRICK HENRY.-1736-1799.

I.-Biographical.

1. "The forest-born Demosthenes," as Byron called Patrick Henry, was a native of Hanover County, Virginia, and the son of a Scotch emigrant. On his mother's side he was related to the historian Robertson, and to Lord Brougham. His youth evinced neither capacity nor application, but was passed in telling stories, in hunting, and in fiddling. Having failed as a store-keeper, he was admitted to the bar after six weeks' study, with an admonition from the court to overcome his ignorance of the law. Only in matters affecting the independence of the American colonies, and as a jury lawyer, was he roused to the exhibition of talent; and the traditions of his eloquence far surpass the impressions made by reading such of his speeches as the labor of his friends has preserved.

2. His eloquence is reported, however, to have been electrical and irresistible. Dr. Archibald Alexander, who had heard him speak, attributes his power, first, to the greatness of his emotion, accompanied by a versatility which enabled him to assume at once any manner or passion that was suited to his purpose. Not less indispensable, secondly, was a matchless perfection of the organs of expres