might go back from the storm which began to pelt us, where we might rest, and become encouraged and invigorated for a new conflict. So have I seen a bird, in its first efforts to fly, leave its nest, and stretch its wings, and go forth to the wide world. But the wind blew it back, and the rain began to fall, and the darkness of night began to draw on, and there was no shelter abroad, and it sought its way back to its nest, to take shelter beneath its mother's wings, and to be refreshed for the struggles of a new day; but then it flew away to think of its nest and its mother no more. 4. But not thus did we leave our home when we bade adieu to it to go forth alone to the manly duties of life. Even amidst the storms that then beat upon us, and the disappointments that we met with, and the coldness of the world, we felt still that there was one who sympathized in our troubles, as well as rejoiced in our success, and that, whatever might be abroad, when we entered the door of her dwelling, we should be met with a smile. We expected that a mother, like the mother of Sisera, as she "looked out at her window," waiting for the coming of her son laden with the spoils of victory, would look out for our coming, and that our return would renew her joy and ours in our earlier days. 5. It makes a sad desolation when, from such a place, a mother is taken away, and when, whatever may be the sorrows or the successes in life, she is to greet the returning son or daughter no more. The home of our childhood may be still lovely. The old family mansion-the green fields—the running stream the moss-covered well-the trees-the lawn-the rose-the sweet-brier-may be there. Perchance, too, there may be an aged father, with venerable locks, sitting in his loneliness, with every thing to command respect and love; but she is not there. Her familiar voice is not heard. The mother has been borne forth to sleep by the side of her children who went before her, and the place is not what it was. 6. There may be those there whom we much love; but she is not there. We may have formed new relations in life, tender and strong as they can be; we may have another home, dear to us as was the home of our childhood, where there is all in affection, kindness, and religion, to make us happy; but that home is not what it was, and it will never be what it was again. It is a loosening of one of the cords which bound us to earth, designed to prepare us for our eternal flight from every thing dear here below, and to teach us that there is no place here, that is to be our permanent home. QUESTIONS.-1. What renders home doubly endearing? 2. Where are we always welcome? 3. Who always rejoices in our successes, and is 4. Who was Sisera, and what account is given of affected in our reverses? him? LESSON LXXXIII. UN SPOT' TED, pure; unstained. TRA' CER Y, traces; impressions 1. PUR SU' ING, following. STERN' ER, harsher; more rigid. THE LIFE-BOOK. WRITE, mother, write! A new, unspotted book of life before thee, HOME JOURnal, pages 2. 3. The first few characters, to live in glory, Or live in shame, through long, unending ages! Thy hand, though woman's, must not faint nor falter; Be its first impress, then, the breath of prayer. Write, father, write! Take thee a pen plucked from an eagle's pinion, Leave on his life-book a fond father's blessing, Write, sister, write! Nay, shrink not, for a sister's love is holy! No bud of sweet affection, howe'er lowly, Something to cheer him, his rough way pursuing, 4. 5. Write, brother, write! Strike a bold blow upon those kindred pages,- Write; shoulder to shoulder, brother, we will go; We who have trodden boyhood's path together, Write, brother, write! Fellow immortal, write! One GOD reigns in the Heavens,-there is no other,— And all mankind are brethren-thus 'tis spoken,— Fellow immortal, write! QUESTIONS.-1. What may the mother write in the Life-Book? 2. What, the father? 3. What, the sister? 4. What, the brother? 5. What may all write ? ODE, short poem. LESSON LXXXIV. PA TER NAL, coming by inheritance. UN CON CERN' ED LY, without care. REO RE A'TION, amusement. ODE ON SOLITUDE. Written when the author was twelve years of age. 1. HAPPY the man whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, РОРЕ. 2. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, 3. Blest who can unconcern'dly find Hours, days, and years glide soft away, 4. Sound sleep by night; study and ease, 5. Thus let me live, unseen, unknown; Steal from the world, and not a stone QUESTIONS.-1. Who, did the writer think, were happy? 2. How did he wish to live and die? 3. Analyze the word recreation, (RE, back; CREATION, act of bringing into life;) act of bringing back to life; a reviving. |