guage of poetry is so well calculated to impress truths on the mind. In addition to the extract from Dr. Arnott, I have one from Lord Jeffrey on the same subject, the steam-engine, which I will read to you. 12. The Steam-engine.-"It has become a thing stupendous alike for its force' and its flexibility'; for the prodigious power which it can exert', and the ease, precision, and ductility with which it can be varied, distributed, and applied'. The trunk of an elephant, that can pick up a pin' or rend an oak', is as nothing to it. It can engrave a seal', and crush masses of obdurate metal before it'; draw out, without breaking, a thread as fine as gossamer', and lift up a ship of war like a bauble in the air'. It can embroider muslin' and forge anchors'; cut steel into ribbons', and impel loaded vessels against the fury of the winds and waves'. But I perceive, George, that you also have something which you wish to read. If it has any connection with this subject, we will near it if you please, and let it conclude this lesson. George. It is a few verses from a little poem entitled 13. 14. 15. 16. 11. THE SONG OF STEAM, by G. W. CUTTER, Harness me down with your iron bands, Be sure of your curb and rein, For I scorn the power of your puny hands How I laughed, as I lay concealed from sight At the childish boast of human might, And the pride of human power. Ha ha ha! they found me at last, They invited me forth at length, And I rushed to my throne with a thunder-blast, And laughed in my iron strength. Oh then ye saw a wondrous change Where now my fiery armies range, Hurra! hurra! the waters o'er The mountain's steep decline; I blow the bellows, I forge the steel, In all the shops of trade; I hammer the ore, and turn the wheel Where my arms of strength are made ; I manage the furnace, the mill, the mint, I carry, I spin, I weave; And all my doings I put in print On every Saturday eve. I've no muscle to weary, no breast to decay, And soon I intend you may go and play, But, harness me down with your iron bands, For I scorn the strength of your puny hands, LESSON I-BLESSINGS ON CHILDREN. 1. BLESSINGS on the blessing children, sweetest gifts of Heaven to earth, In the daylight, in the starlight, still with thought that freely flies, 3. Oh! the happy faith of children, that is glad in all it sees, W. G. SIMMS LESSON II.-THE SARACEN BROTHERS. SALADIN-MALEK ADHEL-ATTENDANT. Attendant. A stranger craves admittance to your highness. Saladin. Whence comes he? Attendant. That I know not. Enveloped with a vestment of strange form, Attendant. Thy royal brother! Saladin. Bring him instantly. [Exit Attendant.] Now, with his specious, smooth, persuasive tongue, Fraught with some wily subterfuge, he thinks To dissipate my anger. He shall die! [Enter Attendant and Malek Adhel.] Leave us together. [Exit Attendant.] [Aside. I should know that form. Now summon all thy fortitude, my soul, Nor, though thy blood cry for him, spare the guilty! [Aloud.] Well stranger, speak; but first unveil thyself, For Saladin must view the form that fronts him. Malek Adhel. Behold it, then! Saladin. I see a traitor's visage. Malek Adhel. A brother's! Saladin. No! Saladin owns no kindred with a villain. Malek Adhel. Oh, patience, Heaven! Had any tongue but thine Uttered that word, it ne'er should speak another. Saladin. And why not now? Can this heart be more pierced. By Malek Adhel's sword than by his deeds? Malek Adhel. Thou art softened; I am thy brother, then; but late thou saidst Saladin. Was it traitor? True: No, nor imprinted on that specious brow; But on this breaking heart the name is stamped, Thinkest thou I'm softened? By Mohammed! these hands Shall crush these aching eyeballs ere a tear Fall from them at thy fate! Oh monster, monster! The brute that tears the infant from its nurse Is excellent to thee; for in his form The impulse of his nature may be read; Malek Adhel. Go on! go on! "Tis but a little time to hear thee, Saladin; And, bursting at thy feet, this heart will prove Its penitence, at least. Saladin. That were an end Too noble for a traitor! The bowstring is A more appropriate finish! Thou shalt die! Malek Adhel. And death were welcome at another's mandate. What, what have I to live for? Be it so, If that, in all thy armies, can be found An executing hand. Saladin. Oh, doubt it not! They're eager for the office. Perfidy, So black as thine, effaces from their minds All memory of thy former excellence. Malek Adhel. Defer not, then, their wishes. Saladin, If e'er this form was joyful to thy sight, This voice seemed grateful to thine ear, accede To my last prayer: Oh, lengthen not this scene, To which the agonies of death were pleasing! Saladin. This very hour! [Aside.] For oh! the more I look upon that face, In all the brother's weakness; yet such guilt Such vile ingratitude-it calls for vengeance; And vengeance it shall have! What ho! who waits there? Attendant. Did your highness call? Saladin. Assemble quickly My forces in the court. Tell them they come To view the death of yonder bosom traitor. And bid them mark, that he who will not spare His brother when he errs, expects obedience [Enter Attendant.] Silent obedience-from his followers. [Exit Attendant.] The word is given; I have nothing more Without thy love, thy honor, thy esteem, |