Who shall protect her, when he is her insulter, sor? What shall delight her, when she shrinks ght of his face, and trembles at the sound of his he hearth is indeed dark, that he has made deso=re, through the dull midnight hour, her griefs are to herself; her bruised heart bleeds in secret. ile the cruel author of her distress is drowned in velry, she holds her solitary vigil, waiting, yet his return, that will only wring from her, by his s, tears even more scalding than those she sheds ansgression.

; a deeper gloom across the present, memory turns broods upon the past. Like the recollection to icken pilgrim, of the cool spring that he drank at ning, the joys of other days come over her, as if ock her parched and weary spirit. She recalls the ver, whose graces won her from the home of her the enraptured father, who bent with such delight ew-born children; and she asks if this can really is sunken being, who has now nothing for her but lisgusting brutality-nothing for those abashed and children, but the sot's disgusting example!

wonder, that, amid these agonizing moments, the rds of violated affection should snap asunder? that ed and deserted wife should confess, "there is no e that which kills the heart?" that, though it would hard for her to kiss, for the last time, the cold lips ad husband, and lay his body forever in the dust, it r to behold him so debasing life, that even his uld be greeted in mercy? Had he died in the is goodness, bequeathing to his family the inheritan untarnished name, the example of virtues that ossom for his sons and daughters from the tombThe would have wept bitterly indeed, the tears of uld not have been also the tears of shame. But to im fallen away from the station he once adorned, from eminence to ignominy-at home, turning his to darkness, and its holy endearments to mockeryhrust from the companionship of the worthy, a self

anded outlaw-this is the wo that the wife feels is more eadful than death, that she mourns over as worse than dowhood.

There is yet another picture behind, from the exhibition which I would willingly be spared. I have ventured to Ent to those, who daily force themselves before the world; there is one whom the world does not know of-who les herself from prying eyes, even in the innermost sanctu- of the domestic temple. Shall I dare to rend the veil t hangs between, and draw her forth?-the priestess ng amid her unholy rites-the sacrificer and the sacrifice? We compass sea and land, we brave danger and death, to tch the poor victim of heathen superstition from the ning pile—and it is well; but shall we not also save the ely ones of our own household, from immolating on this 1 altar, not alone the perishing body, but all the worshipped ces of her sex-the glorious attributes of hallowed wonhood!

Imagination's gloomiest reverie never conceived of a more ölting object, than that of a wife and mother defiling, in own person, the fairest work of her God, and setting at aght the holy engagements for which he created her. Her band-who shall heighten his joys, and dissipate his es, and alleviate his sorrows? She, who has robbed him all joy, who is the source of his deepest care, who lives sharpest sorrow? These are, indeed, the wife's delights; they are not hers. Her children-who shall watch over r budding virtues, and pluck up the young weeds of pasand vice? She, in whose own bosom every thing beau1 has withered, every thing vile grows rank? Who shall ch them to bend their little knees in devotion, and repeat ir Savior's prayer against "temptation?" She, who is self temptation's fettered slave? These are truly the

her's labors; but they are not hers. Connubial love and ernal tenderness bloom no longer for her. A worm has wed into her heart, that dies only with its prey-the m intemperance.

LESSON CXXIV.

Night,-a Field of Battle.-SHELLEY.

beautiful this night! The balmiest sigh,
vernal zephyrs breathe in Evening's ear,
scord to the speaking quietude,
aps this moveless scene.

Heaven's ebon vault,

with stars unutterably bright,

n which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls, ike a canopy, which love had spread

ain the sleeping world. Yon gentle hills,
in a garment of untrodden snow;
rksome rocks, whence icicles depend,
less, that their white and glittering spires
not the moon's pure beam; yon_castled steep,
banner hangeth o'er the time-worn tower
that rapt Fancy deemeth it

phor of peace ;-all form a scene,
musing Solitude might love to lift
l above this sphere of earthliness;
Silence, undisturbed, might watch alone,
, so bright, so still!

The orb of day,

hern climes, o'er ocean's waveless field,
weetly smiling: not the faintest breath
o'er the unruffled deep; the clouds of eve
unmoved the lingering beam of day;
esper's image on the western main
tifully still. To-morrow comes:
upon cloud, in dark and deepening mass,
er the blackened waters; the deep roar
tant thunder mutters awfully;

est unfolds its pinions o'er the gloom

hrouds the boiling surge; the pitiless fiend,
ll his winds and lightnings, tracks his prey;
rn deep yawns-the vessel finds a grave
h its jagged gulf.

Ah! whence yon glare

That fires the arch of heaven ?-that dark red smoke
Blotting the silver moon? The stars are quenched
In darkness, and the pure and spangling snow
Gleams faintly through the gloom that gathers round!
Hark to that roar, whose swift and deafening peals,
In countless echoes, through the mountains ring.
Startling pale Midnight on her starry throne!
Now swells the intermingling din; the jar,
Frequent and frightful, of the bursting bomb;
The falling beam, the shriek, the groan, the shout,
The ceaseless clangor, and the rush of men
Inebriate with rage! Loud, and more loud,
The discord grows, till pale Death shuts the scene,
And o'er the conqueror and the conquered draws
His cold and bloody shroud. Of all the men,
Whom day's departing beam saw blooming there,
In proud and vigorous health--of all the hearts,
That beat with anxious life at sunset there-
How few survive! how few are beating now!
All is deep silence, like the fearful calm
That slumbers in the storm's portentous pause;
Save when the frantic wail of widowed love
Comes shuddering on the blast, or the faint moan
With which some soul bursts from the frame of clay
Wrapt round its struggling powers.

The gray morn

Dawns on the mournful scene; the sulphurous smoke Before the icy wind slow rolls away,

And the bright beams of frosty morning dance
Along the spangling snow. There tracks of blood,
Even to the forest's depth, and scattered arms,

And lifeless warriors, whose hard lineaments
Death's self could change not, mark the dreadful path
Of the outsallying victors: far behind,

Black ashes note where their proud city stood.

Within yon forest is a gloomy glen—

Each tree which guards its darkness from the day,
Waves o'er a warrior's tomb.

LESSON CXXV.

e Uncalled Avenger.-LONDON MUSEUM.

urn of the victorious Russian army, which had Finland, was attended with a circumstance which, as at all times been usual in the train of large which naturally took place to a much greater these high northern latitudes, where the hand of imperfectly subdued the original savageness of Whole droves of famished bears and wolves followps, on their return to the south, to feed on the ey afforded by the carcasses of the artillery and Orses that dropped on the road. In consequence province of Esthonia, to which several regiments eir march, was so overrun with these animals, as endanger the safety of travellers.

gle circle of the government, no less than forty per ferent ages, were enumerated, who had been devourthe winter by these ravenous beasts. It became to venture alone and unarmed into the uninhabited he country; nevertheless, an Esthonian countryIdly undertook a journey to a distant relation, not ut any male companion, but with three children, est of which was still an infant. A light sledge, one horse, received the little party; the way was it well beaten; the snow, on each side, deep and e; and to turn back, without danger of sticking › be thought of.

Et half of the journey was passed without accident. now ran along the skirts of a pine forest, when the uddenly perceived a suspicious noise behind her. ack a look of alarm, she saw a troop of wolves ong the road, the number of which her fears hinfrom estimating. To escape by flight is her first and, with unsparing whip, she urges into a gallop which itself snuffs the danger. Soon a couple of est and most hungry of the beasts appear at her seem disposed to stop the way. Though their in