Uncared for, gird the windy grove,

And flood the haunts of hern and crake;

Or into silver arrows break

The sailing moon in creek and cove;

Till from the garden and the wild
A fresh association blow,

And year by year the landscape grow
Familiar to the stranger's child;

As year by year the labourer tills

His wonted glebe, or lops the glades;

And year by year our memory fades
From all the circle of the hills.—Tennyson.

EXAMPLE FOR PRACTICE.

We have a vast interest to preserve, and we possess great means of preserving it; but it is to be remembered that the artificer may be incumbered by his tools, and that resources may be among impediments. If wealth is the obedient and laborious slave of virtue and of public honour, then wealth is in its place and has its use; but if this order is changed, and honour is to be sacrificed to the conservation of riches, riches which have neither eyes nor hands, nor anything truly vital in them, cannot long survive the being of their vivifying powers, their legitimate masters, and their potent protectors. If we command our wealth, we shall be rich and free; if our wealth commands us, we are poor indeed. We are bought by the enemy with the treasure from our own coffers.

SKELETON FORM-SUBJECT IN ITALICS.

I wake, I rise; I find no place that does not breathe some memory of my friend: no old grange, or lonely fold, or morass, or stile from mead to mead, or sheep-walk up the wold; nor knoll of ash and haw that hears the linnet trill, nor quarry trenched along the hill, and haunted by the daw; nor runlet tinkling from the rock; nor rivulet that swerves thro' meadowy curves, that feed the mothers of the flock; but each has pleased a kindred eye, and each reflects a kindlier day; and, leaving these, to pass away, I think once more be seems to die,

I wake, I rise: from end to end,
Of all the landscape underneath
I find no place that does not breathe
Some gracious memory of my friend:
No gray old grange, or lonely fold,

Or low morass and whispering reed,
Or simple stile from mead to mead,
Or sheep-walk up the windy wold;
Nor hoary knoll of ash and haw

That hears the latest linnet trill,
Nor quarry trench'd along the hill,
And haunted by the wrangling daw;
Nor runlet tinkling from the rock;

Nor pastoral rivulet that swerves

To left and right thro' meadowy curves,

That feed the mothers of the flock;

But each has pleased a kindred eye,
And each reflects a kindlier day;
And, leaving these, to pass away,
I think once more he seems to die.

EXAMPLE FOR PRACTICE.

When a man hath been labouring the hardest labour in the deep mines of knowledge, hath furnished out his findings in all their equipage, drawn forth his reasons as it were a battle ranged, scattered and defeated all objections in his way, calls out his adversary into the plain, offers him the advantage of wind and sun, if he please, only that he may try the matter by dint of argument; for his opponents then to skulk, to lay ambushments, to keep

a narrow bridge of licensing where the challenger should pass, though it be valour enough in soldiership, is but weakness and cowardice in the wars of Truth. For who knows not that Truth is strong, next to the Almighty; she needs no policies, nor stratagems, nor licensings to make her victorious, those are the shifts and the defences that error uses against her power: give her but room, and do not bind her when she sleeps, for then she speaks not true, as the old Proteus did, who spake oracles only when he was caught and bound, but then rather she turns herself into all shapes except her own, and perhaps tunes her voice according to the time, until she be adjured into her own likeness.-Milton, Areopagitica.

SKELETON FORM-SUBJECT IN ITALICS.

Our ex

Of two disputants the warmest is generally in the wrong. perience leads us to a conclusion. Temper is no test of truth; but warmth and earnestness are a proof of a man's own conviction. Coolness is the result of indifference to truth. Nothing is more insulting than the appearance of this philosophy. There is Titubus, the law-stationer. We have seldom known him engaged in an argument. We were convinced he had the best of it, if his tongue would have seconded him. When be has been spluttering sense for an hour, it has moved our gall to see a fellow of an adversary, that cared not a button for the merits of the question, merely lay bis band on the head of the stationer, and desire him to be calm, and with a sneer carry the argument from him in the opinion of the bystanders, who have gone away, and thought Titubus in the wrong, because be was in a passion, and that Mr. , his opponent, is one of the fairest arguers in the