QUESTIONS.-1. What is the first sign of the coming of winter? 2. What, the second? 3. What, the third? 4. What are some of the pleasures of winter? 5 What is said of the poor in winter? 6. What is the use of the apostrophes in the words autumn's, o'er, pleasure's, 'midst, &c. ?

1. TIRED of play'! tired of play'!
What hast thou done this livelong day'?
The birds are silent', and so is the bee'
The sun is creeping up steeple and tree';
The doves have flown to the sheltering eaves',
And the nests are dark with the drooping leaves';
Twilight gathers', and day is done',-

How hast thou spent it',―restless one'?

2. Playing'? But what hast thou done beside,
To tell thy mother at eventide'?

What promise of morn is left unbroken'?
What kind word to thy playmates spoken?
Whom hast thou pitied, and whom forgiven`?
How with thy faults has duty striven`?
What hast thou learned by field and hill.
By greenwood path, and by singing rill`?

S

3. There will come an eve to a longer day',
That will find thee tired',-but not of play'!
And thou wilt lean, as thou leanest now,
With drooping limbs, and aching brow,
And wish the shadows would faster creep,
And long to go to thy quiet sleep.

Well were it then, if thine aching brow
Were as free from sin and shame as now!
Well for thee, if thy lip could tell
A tale like this, of a day spent well.

4. If thine open hand hath relieved distress',
If thy pity hath sprung to wretchedness',-
If thou hast forgiven the sore offense',
And humbled thy heart with penitence',-
If Nature's voices have spoken to thee
With her holy meanings eloquently',
If every creature hath won thy love',
From the creeping worm to the brooding dove',-
If never a sad, low-spoken word

Hath pled with thy human heart unheard',—
Then', when the night steals on, as now,

It will bring relief to thine aching brow,
And, with joy and peace at the thought of rest,
Thou wilt sink to sleep on thy mother's breast.

QUESTIONS.-1. What had the child been doing? 2. What questions did he mother ask? 3. What did she tell the child would come? 4. What is meant by eve to a longer day, third verse? 5. What, by quiet sleep, same verse? 6. What ought we to do in life, in order to have a joyful and peaceful death? 7. What rule for the rising inflection on restless one, first verse? See page 32, Note I. 8. What rule for the falling inflection on playing, second verse? See page 29, Rule II. 9. What rule for the rising inflec tions in the fourth verse? Rule V., page 31.

LESSON XXXII.

NORTH-EAST' ER$, north-east winds.
EX HAUST ED, (x like gz,) tired out.
VIG'I LANT, watchful.

DE TECT ED, discovered.

TORT URE, anguish of spirit. [doned.
DE SERT ED, relinquished; aban-
RA PID' I TY, speed; swiftness.
EN VEL' OP ED, inclosed; covered.
GEN' ER A TED, produced.

LETH' AR GY, drowsiness; dullness.
RES' CUE, deliverance.

LEE WARD, pertaining to the part to-
ward which the wind blows.
RE CED' ING, retiring; passing away.
BRILL' IAN CY, brightness; luster.
TILL' ER, bar used to turn the rudder.
CON' TACT, (CON, together; TACT, touch,) a touching together; close union.

IN EV' I TA BLY, surely; certainly.
ES PY' ING, Seeing; discovering.

THE RESCUE.

BY A SEA CAPTAIN.

1. ON a bright moonlight night, in the month of February, 1831, when it was intensely cold, the little brig which I commanded, lay quietly at her anchors, inside of Sandy Hook. We had had a hard time, beating about for eleven days off this coast, with cutting north-easters blowing, and snow and sleet falling for the most part of that time.

2. Forward, the vessel was thickly coated with ice, and it was hard work to handle her; as the rigging and sails were stiff, and yielded only when the strength of the men was exerted to the utmost. When we, at length, made the port, all hands were worn down and exhausted.

3. "A bitter cold night, Mr. Larkin," I said to my mate, as I tarried for a short time upon deck. The worthy downeaster buttoned his coat more tightly around him, and, looking up to the moon, replied, "It's a whistler, captain; and nothing can live comfortably out of blankets to-night."

4. "The tide is running out swift and strong, and it will be well to keep a sharp look-out for this floating ice, Mr. Larkin," said I, as I turned to go below. responded the faithful mate.

"Ay, ay, sir,"

5. About two hours afterward, I was aroused from a sound sleep by the vigilant officer. "Excuse me for disturbing you, captain," said he, as he detected an expression of vexation in my face, "but I wish you would turn out, and come on deck as soon as possible."

6. "What's the matter, Mr. Larkin," said I. "Why, sir, I have been watching a large cake of ice, which swept by at a distance, a moment ago; and I saw something black upon it,—something that I thought moved. The moon is under a cloud, and I could not see distinctly; but I believe there is a child floating out to the sea, this freezing night, on that cake of ice."

7. We were on deck before either spoke another word. The mate pointed out, with no little difficulty, the cake of ice floating off to the leeward, with its white, glittering surface broken by a black spot. "Get the glass, Mr. Larkin," said I; "the moon will be and then we can see distinctly."

out of that cloud in a moment,

8. I kept my eye upon the receding mass of ice, while the moon was slowly working her way through a heavy bank of clouds. The mate stood by me with the glass; and when the full light fell upon the water with a brilliancy only known in our northern latitudes, I put the glass to my eye. One glance was enough.

× 9. (") "Forward, there!" I hailed at the top of my voice; and, with one bound, I reached the main hatch, and began to clear away the little cutter, which was stowed in the ship's yawl. Mr. Larkin had taken the glass to look for himself. "There are two children on that cake of ice!" he exclaimed, as he hastened to assist me in getting out the boat.

10. The men answered my hail, and walked quickly aft. In a short space of time, we launched the cutter, into which

Mr. Larkin and myself jumped, followed by the two men, who took the oars. I rigged the tiller, and the mate sat beside me in the stern sheets.

11. "Do you see that cake of ice, with something black upon it, my lads? Put me alongside of that, and I'll give you a month's extra wages when you are paid off," said I to the men.

12. They bent to their oars, but their strokes were uneven and feeble; for they were worn out by the hard duty of the preceding fortnight; and, though they did their best, the boat made little more headway than the tide. It was a losing chase, and Mr. Larkin, who was suffering torture as he saw how little we gained, cried out, "Pull, lads! I'll double the captain's prize: two months' extra pay: pull, lads! pull for life!"

13. A convulsive effort at the oars told how willing the men were to obey; but the strength of the strong man was gone. One of the poor fellows washed us twice in recovering his oar, and then gave out; and the other was nearly as far gone. Mr. Larkin sprang forward and seized the deserted oar. "Lie down in the bottom of the boat," said he to the man; and, captain, take the other oar; we must row for ourselves."

14. I took the second man's place. Larkin had stripped off his coat, and, as he pulled the bow, I waited for the signal stroke. It came gently, but firm; and the next moment we were pulling a long, steady stroke; gradually increasing in rapidity, until the wood seemed to smoke in the row-locks. We kept time, each by the long, deep breathing of the other.

15. Such a pull! We bent forward until our faces almost touched our knees; and then throwing all our strength into the backward movement, drew on the oar until every inch