have struck the redeeming blow for their own freedom; but who, like this man, has bared his bosom in the cause of strangers?

9. Others have lived in the love of their own people; but who, like this man, has drank his sweetest cup of welcome with another? Matchless chief! of glory's immortal tablets there is one for him, for him alone! Oblivion shall never shroud its splendor; the everlasting flame of Liberty shall guard it, that the generations of men may repeat the name recorded there, the beloved name of LA FAYETTE.

QUESTIONS.-1. Of what country was La Fayette a native? 2. What was his position at home? 3. In what condition was this country when he came to join our army? 4. How many years after, before he revisited this country? 5. What demonstrations were manifested by the people? 6. What is said of his fame?

How the weaver makes them go!
As the weaver wills they go.
Up and down the web is plying,
And across the woof is flying;

What a rattling!

What a battling!

What a shuffling!

What a scuffling!

As the weaver makes his shuttle,
Hither, thither, scud and scuttle.

2. Threads in single,

Threads in double;

How they mingle!

What a trouble,

Every color!

What profusion!

Every motion

What confusion!

While the web and woof are mingling,

Signal bells above are jingling,
Telling how each figure ranges,
Telling when the color changes,
As the weaver makes his shuttle,
Hither, thither, scud and scuttle.

Weaver at his loom is sitting,'

Throws his shuttle to and fro;
'Mid the noise and wild confusion,
Well the weaver seems to know,
As he makes his shuttle go,

What each motion,

And commotion,

What each fusion,

And confusion,

In the grand result will show:
Weaving daily,

Singing gayly,

As he makes his busy shuttle,
Hither, thither, scud and scuttle.

4. Weaver at his loom is sitting,

Throws his shuttle to and fro;
See you not how shape and order
From the wild confusion grow,
As he makes his shuttle go'?
As the web and woof diminish,
Grows beyond the beauteous finish:
Tufted plaidings,

Shapes and shadings,

All the mystery

Now is history:

And we see the reason subtle,
Why the weaver makes his shuttle,
Hither, thither, scud and scuttle.

5. See the Mystic Weaver sitting,
High in Heaven-His loom below.
Up and down the treadles go:
Takes for web the world's long ages,
Takes for woof its kings and sages,
Takes the nobles and their pages,
Takes all stations and all stages.

Thrones are bobbins in His shuttle;
Armies make them scud and scuttle.

6. Web into the woof must flow,
Up and down the nations go,
As the Weaver wills they go.
Men are sparring,

Powers are jarring,

Upward, downward,
Hither, thither,

See how strange the nations go,
Just like puppets in a show.
Up and down the web is plying
And across the woof is flying.

What a rattling!

What a battling!

What a shuffling!

What a scuffling!

As the Weaver makes His shuttle
Hither, thither, scud and scuttle.

7. Calmly see the Mystic Weaver,
Throw His shuttle to and fro;
'Mid the noise and wild confusion,
Well the Weaver seems to know
What each motion

And commotion,

What each fusion

And confusion,

In the grand result will show,

As the nations,

Kings and stations,
Upward, downward,
Hither, thither,

As in mystic dances, go.

15*

4 U

8. In the Present all is mystery,
In the Past 'tis beauteous History.
O'er the mixing and the mingling,
How the signal bells are jingling!
See you not the Weaver leaving
Finished work behind in weaving'?
See you not the reason subtle,
As the web and woof diminish,
Changing into beauteous finish,
Why the Weaver makes His shuttle,
Hither, thither, scud and scuttle'?

9. Glorious wonder! What a weaving! To the dull beyond believing!

Such no fabled ages know.
Only Faith can see the mystery
How, along the aisle of History

Where the feet of sages go,
Loveliest to the purest eyes,
Grand the mystic tapet lies!
Soft and smooth and even-spreading
As if made for angels' treading;
Tufted circles touching ever,
Inwrought figures fading never;
Every figure has its plaidings,
Brighter form and softer shadings;
Each illuminated,-what a riddle !-
From a Cross that gems the middle.

10. 'Tis a saying-some reject it,—
That its light is all reflected:
That the tapet's hues are given
By a Sun that shines in Heaven!