PALEMON AND LAVINIA. AVINIA once had friends, deprived of all, Of every stay, save inno cence and Heaven, She with her widowed mother-feeble, old And poor lived in a cottage far retired Among the windings of a By solitude and deep-surrounding shades, Her form was fresher than the morning rose When the dew wets its leaves, unstained and pure As is the lily or the mountain snow. Or when the mournful tale her mother told star grace Of evening, shone in tears. A native So flourished blooming and unseen by all The pride of swains Palemon was, the generous and the rich, Who led the rural life in all its joy And elegance, such as Arcadian song Transmits from ancient uncorrupted times, When tyrant Custom had not shackled man, But free to follow Nature was the mode. He, then, his fancy with autumnal scene Amusing, chanced beside his reaper-train To walk, when Lavinia drew his eye, poor Unconscious of her power, and, turning quick With unaffected blushes from his gaze, He saw her charming, but he saw not half The charms her downcast modesty concealed. That very moment love and chaste desire Sprung in his bosom, to himself unknown; For still the world prevailed, and its dread laugh, Which scarce the firm philosopher can scorn, Should his heart own a gleaner in the field, And thus in secret to his soul he sighed : What pity that so delicate a form, By beauty kindled, where enlivening sense And more than vulgar goodness seems to dwell, Should be devoted to the rude embrace Of some indecent clown! She looks, methink, Of old Acasto's line, and to my mind His aged widow and his daughter live, Whom yet my fruitless search could never find. Her rising beauties flushed a higher bloors, And thus Palemon, passionate and just, Poured out the pious rapture of his soul: "And art thou, then, Acasto's dear remains-She whom my restless gratitude has sought So long in vain? O heavens! the very same The softened image of my noble friend rain Beat keen and heavy on thy tender years? Diffuse their warmest, largest influence, Romantic wish! would this the daughter Though vast, were little to his ampler were !" When, strict inquiring, from herself he found Then blazed his smothered flame, avowed and bold; And as he viewed her, ardent, o'er and o'er, Love, gratitude and pity wept at once. Confused and frightened at his sudden tears, heart, Here ceased the youth; yet still his speak | For rhetoric, he could not ope ing eye Expressed the sacred triumph of his soul, Nor waited he reply. Won by the charm In sweet disorder lost, she blushed consent. The news immediate to her mother brought While pierced with anxious thought she pined away The lonely moments for Lavinia's fate, Amazed, and scarce believing what she heard, Joy seized her withered veins, and one bright gleam Of setting life shone on her evening hours, Not less enraptured than the happy pair, Who flourished long in tender bliss and reared A numerous offspring lovely like themselves, And good, the grace of all the country round. HE JAMES THOMSON. HUDIBRAS'S LOGIC. E was in logic a great critic, He could distinguish and divide A hair 'twixt south and south-west side, In mood and figure he would do. His mouth but out there flew a trope; I' th' middle of his speech or cough, But when he pleased to show't, his speech Which learned pedants much affect: SAMUEL BUTLER. THE WELL-BRED MAN. FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHE. WELL-BRED carriage is difficult to imitate; for in strictness it is negative, and it implies a long-continued previous training. You are not required to exhibit in your manner anything that betokens dignity, for by this means you are like to run into formality and haughtiness: you are rather to avoid whatever is undignified and vulgar. You are never to forget yourself, are to keep a constant watch upon yourself and others, to forgive nothing that is faulty in your own conduct, in that of others neither to forgive too little nor too much. Nothing must appear to touch you, nothing to agitate; you must never overhurry your self, must ever keep yourself composed, retaining still an outward calmness whatever storms may rage within. The noble character at certain moments may resign himself to his emotions; the well-bred man, never. The latter is like a man dressed in fair and spotless clothes: he will not lean on anything; every person will beware of rubbing on him. He distinguishes himself from others, yet he may not stand apart. The well-bred man of rank, in spite of every separation, always seems united with the people round him; he is never to be stiff or uncomplying; he is always to appear the first, and never to insist on so appearing. It is clear, then, that to seem well-bred a man must actually be so. It is also clear why women are generally more expert at taking up the air of breeding than the other sex, why courtiers and soldiers catch it more easily than other men. Translation of JOHN STUART BLACKIE. THE ROMANCE OF INSECT-LIFE. THE earth teems with mysteries. The sky shines with them; they float in the air; they swim in the deep; they flash from the dark-robed clouds; they whisper in the gentle tones of the summer wind; they speak in trumpet-tongues in the voice of the tempest and the thunder. Cease thy longings for the ancient days, O dreamer! Close thy book and look about thee upon the volume of Nature. See! there before thee is a tiny insect that thou canst scarce distinguish from the grains of sand that surround it. Watch it. It moves on with an energy and an instinct that enable it to overcome or avoid all obstacles. See! it has seized some object larger than itself, and still it goes bravely on. Nothing daunts it; nothing stops it. Tread it under foot, if thou canst have the heart to attempt such a murder, and it will rise up again beneath the ocean of sand and turn once more to its labor. Dost thou know it? It is the ant-the lion-hearted ant—toiling amid the heat of summer; and, though the season's brightness and its warmth are bringing up |