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IX.

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PLEASURE IN ACQUIRING KNOWLEDGE.
CAROLINE F. ORNE

1. Note the ecstatic joy of the student, who has labored long over a problem or proposition, but finally comes to a logical conclusion; who has struggled with the misty darkness of his own mind, for a clear view of some difficult subject, until the clouds, one after another, have dispersed, and he beholds, with his mental vision, in bright and glorious light, the conception for which he labored. Think you he would exchange his joys for the pleasures of sense'? It is of a higher and more ennobling character, and not to be bartered for paltry wealth.

2. What dignity and self-respect invest the man of thought! His very looks bespeak of mind. He is approached with deference, as a being of higher order in the scale of intelligence, -as one who has a right to command and be obeyed. For what moves mind, but mind? A strong intellect, coming in contact with one of less energy, will as naturally move it, as superior physical strength will overcome the weaker.

MOTHERWELL.

X.

WHAT IS FAME?

What is glory'? What is fame'?
The echo of a long-lost name';
A breath', an idle hour's brief talk';
The shadow of an arrant naught';
A flower that blossoms for a day',
Dying next morrow';

A stream that hurries on its way,
Singing of sorrow`;

A fortune that to lose were gain';
A word of praise, perchance of blame';
The wreck of a time-bandied name',-
Ay`, this is glory'!—this is fame`!

XI.

CULTIVATED INTELLECT.

Ah! well do we all know the worth of intelligence, the power of knowledge, and the beauty and glory of wisdom. It is educated manhood that wakes up the sleeping soil, covers the earth with good, that gathers in the golden harvest, that clothes the naked, that feeds the hungry. It is the cultivated mind that applies the strength of the ox and the fleetness of the horse; that bridges the river, that turns to use the flying winds, that makes the lightning its swift messenger, that makes beautiful palaces of dull clay, that rouses the dead ore to active life, that covers the sea with ships, and the land with mighty engines of wealth. It is the developed intellect that flies through the upper air, that mingles with the stars, that follows the moon in her course, that overtakes the constellations in their orbits, that weighs the sun, that measures the distance to the polar star. It is the enlightened soul that worships God.

XII.

GOD'S WORKS ATTEST HIS GREATNESS.

1. There's not a leaf within the bower;

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There's not a bird upon the tree;
There's not a dew-drop on the flower,
But bears the impress, Lord, of Thee.

MRS. OPIE.

2. Thy hand the varied leaf designed,

And gave the bird its thrilling tone;
Thy power the dewdrop's tints combined,

Till like the diamond's blaze they shone.

3. Yes, dewdrops, leaves, and buds, and all
The smallest, like the greatest things,-
The sea's vast space, the earth's wide ball,
Alike proclaim Thee King of kings.

4. But man alone to bounteous Heaven,
Thanksgiving's conscious strains can raise;
To favored man alone 'tis given
To join the angelic choir in praise !

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1. LET the reader suppose himself on the deck of a Southseaman, cruising in the North Pacific ocean. He may be musing over some past event, the ship may be sailing gently along over the smooth ocean, every thing around solemnly still, with the sun pouring its intense rays with dazzling

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brightness. Suddenly the monotonous quietude is broken by an animated voice from the masthead, exclaiming, "There he spouts!"

2. The captain starts on deck in an instant, and inquires "Where away?" but, perhaps, the next moment every one aloft and on deck, can perceive an enormous whale lying about a quarter of a mile from the ship, on the surface of the sea, having just come up to breathe,-his large "hump" projecting three feet out of the water. At the end of every

ten seconds, the spout is seen rushing from the fore part of his enormous head, followed by the cry of every one on board, who join in the chorus of "There again!" keeping time with the duration of the spout.

3. But, while they have been looking, a few seconds have expired. They rush into the boats, which are directly lowered to receive them; and, in two minutes from the time of first observing the whale, three or four boats are down, and are darting through the water with their utmost speed toward their intended victim, perhaps accompanied with a song from the headsman, who urges the quick and powerful plying of the oar, with the common whaling chant of

"Away, my boys, away, my boys, 'tis time for us to go."
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4. But, while they are rushing along, the whale is breathing; they have yet, perhaps, some distance to pull before they can get a chance of striking him with the harpoon. His " spoutings are nearly out," he is about to descend, or he hears the boats approaching. The few sailors left on board, and who are anxiously watching the whale and the gradual approach of the boats, exclaim, "Ah, he is going down!" Yet he spouts again, but slowly, the water is seen agitated around him; the spectators on board with breathless anxiety think they perceive him rising in preparation for

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his descent. "He will be lost!" they exclaim; for the boats are not yet near enough to strike him, and the men are still bending their oars in each boat with all their strength, to claim the honor of the first blow with the harpoon.

5. The bow-boat has the advantage of being the nearest to the whale; the others, for fear of disturbing the unconscious monster, are now ordered to drop astern. One more spout is seen slowly curling forth,—it is his last; but the boat shoots rapidly alongside of the gigantic creature. "Peak your oars!" exclaims the mate, and directly they flourish in the air; the glistening harpoon is seen above the head of the harpooner. In an instant it is darted with unerring force and aim, and is buried deeply in the side of the huge animal. It is "socket up;" that is, it is buried in his flesh up to the socket which admits the handle or pole of the harpoon.

6. A cheer from those in the boats, and from the seamen on board, reverberates along the still deep at the same moment. The sea, which a moment before was unruffled, now becomes lashed into foam by the immense strength of the wounded whale, which, with his vast tail, strikes in all directions at his enemies. Now his enormous head rises high into the air, then his flukes are seen lashing everywhere, his huge body writhes in violent contortions from the agony the harpoon has inflicted. The water all around him is a mass of foam, and the sounds of the blows from his tail on the surface of the sea, can be heard for miles! MILES

7. "Stern all!" cries the headsman; but the whale suddenly disappears; he has "sounded;" the line is running through the groove at the head of the boat, with lightninglike velocity; it smokes; it ignites from the heat produced by the friction; but the headsman, cool and collected, pours water upon it as it passes. But an oar is now held up in

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