his needle now settles, with a fixedness which love has stolen as the symbol of its constancy, to the polar star. 8. Now, however, he can dispense even with sail, and wind, and flowing wave. He constructs and propels his vast engines of flame and vapor, and, through the solitude of the sea, as over the solid land, goes thundering on his track. On the ocean, too, thrones have been lost and won. On the fate of Actium' was suspended the empire of the world. In the gulf of Salamis, the pride of Persia found a grave; and the crescent set forever in the waters of Navarino; while, at Trafalgar and the Nile, nations held their breath, 2 As each gun, From its adamantine lips, Spread a death-shade round the ships Like the hurricane's eclipse Of the sun. 9. But, of all the wonders appertaining to the ocean, the greatest, perhaps, is its transforming power on man. It unravels and weaves anew the web of his moral and social being. It invests him with feelings, associations, and habits, to which he has been an entire stranger. It breaks up the sealed fountain of his nature, and lifts his soul into features prominent as the cliffs which beetle over its surge. 10. Once the adopted child of the ocean, he can never bring back his entire sympathies to land. He will still move in his dreams over that vast waste of waters, still bound in exultation and triumph through its foaming billows. All the other realities of life will be comparatively tame, and he will sigh for his tossing element, as the caged eagle for the roar and arrowy light of his mountain cataract. QUESTIONS.-1. What is said of the volcano and earthquake? 2. Of the avalanche and tempest? 3. Of the ocean? 4. Of ships? 5. Where have naval battles been fought? 6. What influence has the ocean on man? RE LAX ED, loosened. LESSON XCIV. [tentions. AS SI DU I TIE$, kind, constant at- UN PRE TEND' ING, unostentatious PEN' E TRATES, sees through. PER VADE, (PER, through; VADE, go, or pass;) pass through; appear throughout. A BURIAL AT SEA. WALTER COLTON. 1. DEATH is a fearful thing, come in what form it may,— fearful, when the vital chords are so gradually relaxed, that life passes away sweetly as music from the slumbering harpstring, fearful, when in his own quiet chamber, the departing one is summoned by those who sweetly follow him with their prayers, when the assiduities of friendship and affection can go no farther, and who discourse of heaven and future blessedness, till the closing ear can no longer catch the tones of the long-familiar voice, and who, lingering near, still feel for the hushed pulse, and then trace in the placid slumber, which pervades each feature, a quiet emblem of the spirit's serene repose. 2. What, then, must this dread event be to one, who meets it comparatively alone, far away from the hearth of his home, upon a troubled sea, between the narrow decks of a restless ship, and at that dread hour of night, when even the sympathies of the world seem suspended! Such has been the end of many who traverse the ocean; and such was the hurried end of him, whose remains we have just consigned to a watery grave. 3. He was a sailor; but, beneath his rude exterior, he carried a heart touched with refinement, pride, and great ness. There was something about him, which spoke of better days and a higher destiny. By what errors or misfortunes he was reduced to his humble condition, was a secret which he would reveal to none. Silent, reserved, and thoughtful, he stood a stranger among his free companions, and never was his voice heard in the laughter or the jest. He has undoubtedly left behind many who will long look for his return, and bitterly weep when they are told they shall see his face no more. 4. As the remains of the poor sailor were brought up on deck, wound in that hammock which, through many a stormy night, had swung to the wind, one could not but observe the big tear that stole unconsciously down the rough cheeks of his hardy companions. When the funeral service was read to that most affecting passage, "we commit this body to the deep," and the plank was raised which precipitated to the momentary eddy of the wave the quickly disappearing form, a heavy sigh from those around, told that the strong heart of the sailor can be touched with grief, and that a truly unaffected sorrow may accompany virtue, in its most unpretending form, to its ocean grave. Yet how soon is such a scene forgotten! "As from the wing the sky no scar retains, The parted wave no furrow from the keel, 5. There is something peculiarly melancholy and impressive in a burial at sea: there is here no coffin or hearse, procession or tolling bell,-nothing that gradually prepares us for the final separation. The body is wound in the drapery of its couch, much as if the deceased were only in a quiet and temporary sleep. In these habiliments of seeming slumber, it is dropped into the wave, the waters close over it, the vessel passes quickly on, and not a solitary trace is left to tell where sunk from light and life, one that loved to look at the sky and breathe this vital air. 6. There is nothing that, for one moment, can point to the deep, unvisited resting-place of the departed,—it is a grave in the midst of the ocean,-in the midst of a vast, untrodden solitude. Affection can not approach it, with its tears; the dews of heaven can not reach it; and there is around it no violet, or shrub, or murmuring stream. 7. It may be superstitious; but no advantages of wealth, or honor, or power, through life, would reconcile me at its close to such a burial. I would rather share the coarse and scanty provisions of the simplest cabin, and drop away unknown and unhonored by the world, so that my final restingplace be beneath some green tree, by the side of some living stream, or in some familiar spot, where the few that loved me in life, might visit me in death. 8. But, whether our grave be in the fragrant shade, or in the fathomless ocean, among our kindred, or in the midst of strangers, the day is coming when we shall all appear at one universal bar, and receive from a righteous Judge the award of our deeds. He that is wisest, penetrates the future the deepest. QUESTIONS.-1. What is said of death? 2. What, of death at sea? 3. What renders a burial at sea peculiarly melancholy and impressive? LESSON XCV. MYS TE RI OUS, secret; mystical. AR' GO SIE$, ships of great burden. SCORN' FUL, disdainful. THE TREASURES OF THE DEEP. MRS. HEMANS. 1. WHAT hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and cells ? We ask not such from thee. 2 Yet more, the depths have more! what wealth untold, Sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful main! 3. Yet more, the depths have more! thy waves have rolled Above the cities of a world gone by! Sand hath filled up the palaces of old, 4. Yet more, the billows and the depths have more! High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast! They hear not now the booming waters roar; The battle-thunders will not break their rest. 5. Give back the lost and lovely,~those for whom The place was kept at board and hearth so long, |