is something in the "concord of sweet sounds" congenial with the mind of man. Whether among rude or polished nations, it has ever been regarded as of the highest importance, and been introduced to aid the expression of joy and grief, upon the most serious and the most festive occasions, in the temple and in the theatre, in solemn processions and in the sprightly dance. It has ever been the solace and the delight of men of genius, and there is no subject which is praised in more ardent expressions, or expatiated upon with more delight, by Homer, Shakspeare, Tasso, Milton- by all writers, indeed, of refined taste and highly-cultivated intellect.

Unknown as the mode may be by which sounds operate, it is clear that nature has connected certain emotions with them, and their effect is sufficiently ascertained, and deeply felt; for, variously modified, and judiciously combined with words, they can melt with pity, transport with joy, rouse to courage, or elevate with devotion. They have a peculiar effect in cherishing the tender passions, and calling up the long-forgotten images of the past, with all their attendant trains of ideas. As painting and sculpture produce the means of enjoyment to the eye, so music supplies entertainment to the ear.

66

Queen of every moving measure,
Sweetest source of purest pleasure,
Music! why thy powers employ
Only for the sons of joy?
Only for the smiling guests
At natal or at nuptial feasts?
Rather thy lenient numbers pour

On those whom secret griefs devour."

As civilization advances, music, as a science, gains new advocates; and the day is evidently fast approaching when few will decry music on the ground that its effects are merely sensual. It is addressed to the ear, indeed; but all the influences which we receive from without are conveyed through the medium of the senses; and the tones of music often speak a language to the soul richer in meaning than words could express. Nothing is merely sensual which makes a lasting spiritual impression upon us; and those who deny to music such a power have not heard its sublimest strains, or have not the capacity to appreciate them.

1. Why is vocal music the most universally pleasing?

2. Who has expatiated with delight on music?

3. What is music capable of when judiciously combined with words?

THE nightingale is one of our earliest Spring visitors, and makes its appearance about the middle of April. It frequents, at first, the hedges which border cultivated lands and gardens, where it finds abundance of food; but it remains there for only a short time, for as soon as the forests begin to be covered with verdure, it retires into the woods and thickets, in the thick foliage of which it delights. Its nest, which is rudely formed of dead leaves, is placed near to the ground, hidden among brushwood, or at the bottom of some hedge.

The nightingale, during its stay in England, for it leaves us again in the autumn, rears two broods of young; sometimes, but very rarely, it has been known to hatch three. As soon as the first brood is partially fledged, the female sets about building a second nest, and the nurture and education of the first brood devolves upon the male. It is only previous to, and during the time that the first family is being reared, that the song of the male is heard, when the bird is in a wild state; but, when in captivity, if properly managed, it has been known to sing nearly throughout the year. The successful management of the nightingale, when placed in a cage, is a matter of great difficulty, and requires very considerable attention; three sides of the cage in which it is placed are covered, so as to prevent the entrance of light; in this manner imitating the dim light of evening, at which time the nightingale delights to pour forth its melodious notes.

Song is so peculiarly the attribute of this species, that even the female possesses it, less strong and varied, it is true, than that of the male, but otherwise entirely resembling it. What peculiarly constitutes the charm of this bird is, that it never repeats its song, like other birds, but varies at each burden or passage; and even if ever it resumes the same, it is always with new accents and additional embellishments. In the fine nights of Spring, when its voice is undisturbed by any other sound, nothing can be more ravishing and delightful; it then pours forth, in their utmost plenitude, all the resources of its incomparable organ of voice.

1. When does the nightingale make its first appearance ?

2. Is the nightingale a migratory bird?

3. About what time does it leave this country?

SCENERY OF THE UPPER OROONOKO.

255

LESSON CLXXVIII.

JUNE THE TWENTY-SEVENTH.

Scenery of the Upper Oroonoko.

To take in at one view the grand character of these stupendous scenes, (observes the celebrated traveller Humboldt,) the spectator must be stationed on the little mountain of Manimi, a granitic ridge, that rises from the Savannah, north of the church of the mission, and is itself only a continuation of the steps of which the cataract of Manimi is composed. We often visited this mountain, for we were never weary of the view of this astonishing spectacle, concealed in one of the most remote corners of the earth.

Arrived at the summit of the rock, the eye suddenly takes in a sheet of foam, extending a whole mile. Enormous masses of stone, black as iron, issue from its bosom. Some are grouped in pairs, like basaltic hills; others resemble towers, strong castles, and ruined buildings. Their gloomy tint contrasts with the silvery splendour of the foam. Every rock, every islet, is covered with vigorous trees collected in clusters. At the foot of those eminences, far as the eye can reach, a thick vapour hangs over the river, and through this whitish fog the tops of the lofty palm-tree shoot up. This majestic plant, the trunk of which is more than eighty feet high, has a leafy plume of a brilliant lustre, which rises almost straight toward the sky. At every hour of the day the sheet of foam displays different aspects. Sometimes the hilly islands and the palm-trees project their broad shadows; sometimes the rays of the setting sun are refracted in the humid cloud that shrouds the cataract. Coloured arcs are formed, and vanish, and appear again alternately: light sport of the air, their images wave above the plain.

I do not hesitate to repeat, that neither time, nor the view of the Cordilleras, nor any abode in the temperate valleys of Mexico, have effaced from my mind the powerful impression of the aspect of the cataracts. When I read a description of those places in India that are embellished by running waters and a vigorous vegetation, my imagination retraces a sea of foam and palm-trees, the tops of which rise above a stratum of vapour. The ma

jestic scenes of nature, like the sublime works of poetry and the arts, leave remembrances that are incessantly awakening, and through the whole of life mingle with all our feelings of what is grand and beautiful.

The calm of the atmosphere, and the tumultuous movement of the waters, produce a contrast peculiar to this zone. Here no breath of wind ever agitates this foliage, no cloud veils the splendour of the azure vault of Heaven; a great mass of light is diffused in the air; on the earth, strewn with plants, with glossy leaves, and on the bed of the river, which extends far as the eye can reach. This appearance surprises a traveller born in the north of Europe. The idea of wild scenery—of a torrent rushing from rock to rock—is linked in his imagination with that of a climate where the noise of the tempest is mingled with the sound of the cataracts; and where, in a gloomy and misty day, sweeping clouds seem to descend into the valley, and rest upon the tops of the pines.

The landscape of the tropics in the low regions of the continents has a peculiar physiognomy; something of greatness and repose, which it preserves, even where one of the elements is struggling with invincible obstacles. Near the equator, hurricanes and tempests belong to islands only, to deserts destitute of plants, and to those spots where parts of the atmosphere repose upon surfaces from which the radiation of heat is very different.

1. In what part of the world is the river Oronooko?

2. What is seen on arriving at the summit of the rock?

3. Describe the palm-tree.

4. What appearance surprises a traveller born in the north of Europe?

LESSON CLXXIX.

-JUNE THE TWENTY-EIGHTH.

The Departed.

WHERE'S the snow -the summer snow

On the lovely lily flower?

Where the hues the sunset shed

O'er the rose's crimson hour?
Where's the gold-the pure bright gold-
O'er the young laburnum flung;
And the fragrant sighs that breathed
Whence the hyacinth drooping hung?
Gone, gone-they all are gone.

Maiden, lovelier than the spring,
Is thy bloom departed too?
Has thy cheek forgot its rose,
Or thine eye its April blue?

QUEEN ELIZABETH AND COUNTESS OF NOTTINGHAM. 257

Where are thy sweet bursts of song?
Where the wreaths that bound thy hair?
Where the thousand prisoner curls?
And thy sunny smiles are- Where?
Gone, gone-they all are gone.

Youth, where is thy open brow?
What has quell'd thine eagle eye?
Where's the freshness of thy cheek?
And thy dark hair's raven dye?
Where's thy crimson banner now?
Where's thine eager step and sword?
Where's thine hour of dreamless sleep?
Where frank jest and careless word?
Gone, gone-they all are gone.

Where's the lighted hall; and where
All that made its midnight gay?
Where's the music of the harp?
And the minstrel's nightly lay?
Where's the graceful saraband?
Where the lamps of starry light?
Where the vases of bright flowers?
Where the blushes yet more bright?
Gone, gone-they all are gone.

Where are those fair dreams that made
Life so beautiful at first?
Where the many fantasies

That young Hope so fondly nurst?
Love with motto like a knight,

Faithful even to the tomb;
Fortune following the wish;

Pleasure with a folded plume?—
Gone, gone-they all are gone.

Queen Elizabeth and the Countess of Nottingham. THE grief or compunction of Queen Elizabeth for the death of the Earl of Essex, with which she long maintained a severe struggle, was generally understood at the time to have rapidly completed the overthrow of powers, which the advances of old age and an accumulation of cares and anxieties had already undermined.

"Our