from time to time a march of Rossini's. And he went away and painted-" The Rapids by Moonlight;" and you

may see the picture-a splendid work of art-now owned by one of your wealthy New York merchants.

14. The last that came upon the scene which I have been describing and it was now late, toward morning-was a poor maiden. She had passed a night of watching by the bedside of the sick and dying, but had left for her own

home just as the early dawn had heralded the coming day. She sat down to rest on one of the stones that marked the soldier's grave. The scene impressed her with feelings of solemnity and awe; her lovely, pallid face was turned first toward the roaring waters, then toward the grove, as if studying the mysteries of the world around her; and her eyes sparkled, and she raised them heavenward, as if communing with the great Author of nature.

15. I saw that her hands were clasped. She prayed, repeating, I believe, the Lord's Prayer. Perhaps she did not fully comprehend the feeling of adoration and religious awe that pervaded her breast; but well do I know that, year after year, that moment of prayer will in memory invest that scene with more beautiful-yea, and with richer hues than the colors in which the artist painted it. The remembrance thereof will be sweet until her dying day. My beams followed her until the morning twilight kissed her brow.

II.-Daisies.

From the other pieces drawn from the "Cabinet," and read on the same occasion as the foregoing, we have room here for only the following:

1. How bare the garden borders lie
Beneath a changeful, dappled sky!
The snow has passed away;
But sudden gusts of sleet and rain
Beat hard against the window-pane

This February day.

2. Yet in the pauses of the storm
The mellow sunshine flickers warm

On mossy garden ways;

The thrush we fed the winter long
Pours forth at intervals his song

Of love and lengthening days.

3. The plot of freshening grassy sward In all its length is thickly starred With daisies gold and white,

That skyward lift, in fearless grace,

Through sun and shower each smiling face,
With equable delight.

4. They crave not culture's cunning care,
But blossom brightly everywhere,

With spring's first breeze and beam;
Coeval with the thrush's song

They bloom the sunny summer long,
By meadow, lawn, and stream.

5. We tread them down with hasty feet,
To pull some fairer blossom, sweet
With coveted perfume;

But from the pressure rough and rude
They gayly spring, afresh endued
With honest, hopeful bloom.

6. They mind us, in their silent way, Of love that blesses every day

Our pathway on the earth;—

Of love that wakes while calm we sleep,
Of love that aches whene'er we weep,
Yet counted little worth;-

7. Of love we trampled down to reach
A lighter love, that will but teach
Our hearts a dreadful care ;-
Of love that springs, as daisies do,
Forever strong, forever new,
In rapture or despair.

8. They mind us in their humble guise
Of homely duties that arise

In every human life;

We tread these lowly duties down,

And grasp at shadowy flowers to crown
A vain ideal strife.

9. Yet in each path, like daisies set,
These humbler duties still are met:
God guide our feeble will!

That, when our wild ambitions fade,
We, turning humbly to the shade,
May find our daisies still.

All the Year Round.

III.-Among Books.

In the account which we have given, in Chapter XXX., of some new features lately introduced into the Saturday Evening Readings at Wilmot Hall, we have omitted to mention that the young people are accustomed to write down such gems of thought, briefly and happily expressed, as they meet with, and that the reading of these selections, and remarks on them, form a part of the exercises of the evening.

The literary "Gems" that were given to the pupils of Mr. Agnew's school to be memorized, were of the teacher's choosing; but as those now referred to are selected by the young people themselves, after their school-days are over, they pleasantly extend the teachings of the school-room, and direct them to a more thorough culture of the judgment, the taste, and the imagination.

From the selections that were read at one of these very pleasant gatherings at the Hall, we here give the following, which will show both the general character of these

extracts, and the varied sources from which they were obtained.

1. Perseverance.

Incessant drops, as proverbs say,

Will wear the hardest stones away.

This is a translation from the Greek poet Bion, who was born about one hundred and seventy years before the Christian era. But even then this proverb was old.

2. A Safe Rule of Conduct.

If you wish to recommend yourself to a wise man, take care that he quits your society with a good opinion of you: if your object is to please a vain and foolish man, take care that he leaves you with a good opinion of himself.

3. Benevolence and Civility.

Colton.

As there are none so weak that we may venture to injure them with impunity, so there are none so low that they may not at some time be able to repay an obligation. Therefore, what benevolence would dictate, prudence would confirm.

He that is cautious of insulting the weakest, and not above obliging the lowest, will have attained such habits of forbearance and civility as will secure him the good will of all that are beneath him, and teach him how to avoid the enmity of all that are above him. For he that would not bruise even a worm, will be still more cautious how he treads upon a serpent. Colton.

4. Twofold Knowledge.

That is a twofold knowledge which profits alike by the folly of the foolish, and the wisdom of the wise. It is both a shield and a sword: it borrows its security from the darkness, and its confidence from the light.

Anon.