6. In vain his quivering lips would speak; No words his thoughts allow;

The burning tears are on his cheek—
Death's marble on his brow.

7. And twice he smote his clenched handThen bade his children fly!

And turned, and e’en that savage band
Cowered at his wrathful eye.

8. Swift as the lightning, winged with death,
Flashed forth the quivering flame!
Their fiercest warrior bows beneath
The father's deadly aim.

9. Not the wild cries, that rend the skies,
His strength of purpose move;

He saves his children, or he dies,
The sacrifice of love.

10. Ambition goads the conqueror on,
Hate points the murderer's brand-
But love and duty, these alone
Can nerve the good man's hand.
11. The hero may resign the field,
The coward murderer flee;

He cannot fear, he will not yield,
That strikes, sweet love, for thee.

12. They come, they come-he heeds no cry,
Save the soft, child-like wail;
"Oh, father, save!" "My children, fly!
Were mingled on the gale.

13. And firmer still he drew his breath,
And sterner flashed his eye,

As fast he hurls the leaden death,
Still shouting, "Children, fly !"

14. No shadow on his brow appeared.
Nor tremor shook his frame,
Save when at intervals he heard
Some trembler lisp his name.

15. In vain the foe, those fiends unchained, Like famished tigers chafe;

The sheltering roof is neared, is gained,
All, all the dear ones safe!

LESSON LVIII.

The Family Meeting.

1. WE are all here!
Father, Mother,

Sister, Brother,

All who hold each other dear:
Each chair is filled; we're all at home:
To-night let no cold stranger come.
It is not often thus around

Our old, familiar hearth we're found:
Bless, then, the meeting and the spot;
For once be every care forgot;
Let gentle peace assert her power,
And kind affection rule the hour.
We're all-all here.

2. We're not all here!

Some are away-the dead ones dear,
Who thronged with us this ancient hearth,
And gave the hour to guiltless mirth;
Death, with stern, relentless hand,
Looked in and thinned our little band;
Some like a night-flash passed away,
And some sank, lingering day by day;
The quiet graveyard-some lie there,
And cruel ocean has his share-
We're not all here.

3. We are all here!

Even they-the dead-though dead, so dear,-
Fond memory, to her duty true,

Brings back their faded forms to view.
How life-like, through the mist of years,
Each well-remembered face appears!
We see them as in times long past;
From each to each kind looks are cast;
We hear their words, their smiles behold;
They're round us as they were of old-
We are all here.

4. We are all here!

Father, Mother,
Sister, Brother,

You that I love with love so dear-
This may not long of us be said.
Soon must we join the gathered dead,
And by the hearth we now sit round,
Some other circle will be found.
Oh, then, that wisdom may we know,
That yields a life of peace below;
So, in the world to follow this,
May each repeat, in words of bliss,
We're all-all here!

LESSON LIX.

Flower upon the Green Hill Side.

1. "FLOWER upon the green hill side,
Thou, to shun the threatening blast,
In the grass thy head dost hide,
By the tempest overpast.
Then, to greet the azure skies,
And to feel the soothing sun,
Brighter, sweeter thou dost rise;
Tell me, flower, how this is done.”

2. "I will tell thee as thy friend,
Artless, timid, whispering low;
To the blast 'tis good to bend;
He who made me taught me so
While his teaching I obey,

I but fall to rise and stand,
Brighter for the stormy day,
Leaning on his viewless hand.

3. "When to Him I've lowly bowed,
He with freshness fills my cup
From the angry, scowling cloud;
Then he gently lifts me up.
So I fall; and so I rise;

In the dark or sunny hour
Minding Him who rules the skies!

!

He's my God, and I'm his flower!"

LESSON LX.

Uncle Abel and Little Edward.

1. WERE any of you born in New England, in the good old catechising, school-going, orderly times? If you were, you must remember my Uncle Abel; the most perpendicular, rectangular, upright, downright good man, that ever labored six days and rested on the Sabbath.

2. You remember his hard, weather-beaten countenance, where every line seemed to be drawn with a pen of iron and the point of a diamond;-his considerate gray eyes, that moved over objects as if it were not best to be in a hurry about seeing;-the circumspect opening and shutting of his mouth; his down-sitting and up-rising;-all of which appeared to be performed with conviction aforethought.

3. Now, if you supposed from all this triangularism of exterior that this good man had nothing kindly within, you were much mistaken. You often find the greenest grass under a snow-drift; and, though my uncle's mind was not exactly of the flower-garden kind, still there was an abundance of wholesome and kindly vegetation there.

4. It is true, he seldom laughed, and never joked-himself; but no man had a more serious and weighty conviction of what a good joke was in another; and, when some exceeding witticism was dispensed in his presence, you might see Uncle Abel's face slowly relax into an expression of solemn satisfaction, and he would look at the author with a certain quiet wonder, as if it was astonishing how such a thing could ever come into a man's head.

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5. Uncle Abel also had some relish for the fine arts; in proof whereof I might adduce the pleasure with which he gazed at the plates in his family Bible, the likeness whereof I presume you never saw-and he was also such an eminent musician, that he could go through the singing-book at a sitting, without the least fatigue, beating time like a windmill all the way.

6. Every thing in Uncle Abel's house was in the same time, place, manner, and form, from year's end to year's end. There was old Master Bose, a dog after my uncle's own heart, who always walked as if he were learning the multiplication table. There was the old clock, forever ticking in the kitchen corner, with a picture on its face of

the sun forever setting behind a perpendicular row of poplars.

7. There was the never-failing supply of red peppers and onions, hanging over the chimney. There were the yearly hollyhocks and morning-glories, blooming around the windows. There was the "best room," with its sanded floor, and evergreen asparagus bushes-its cupboard with a glass door in one corner-and the stand, with the great Bible and almanac on it, in the other.

8. There was Aunt Betsey, who never looked any older, because she always looked as old as she could-who always dried her catnip and wormwood the last of September, and began to clean house the first of May. In short, this was the land of continuance. Old Time never seemed to take it into his head to practise either addition, subtraction, or multiplication, on its sum total.

9. Little Edward was the child of my uncle's old age, and a brighter, merrier little blossom never grew up on the verge of an avalanche. He had been committed to the nursing of his grandmamma, until he had arrived at the age of indiscretion, and then my old uncle's heart yearned towards him, and he was carried home.

10. His introduction into the family excited a terrible sensation. Never was there such a contemner of dignities -such a violator of all high places and sanctities, as this very Master Edward. It was all in vain to try to teach him decorum. He was the most outrageously merry little elf that ever shook a head of curls, and it was all the same to him, whether it was Sabba-day" or any other day.

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11. He laughed and frolicked with every body, and every thing, that came in his way, not even excepting his solemn old father; and when you saw him with his arms round the old man's neck, and his bright blue eyes and blooming cheek pressing out by the bleak face of Uncle Abel, you almost fancied that you saw spring caressing winter.

12. Uncle Abel's metaphysics were sorely puzzled to bring this sparkling, dancing compound of spirit and matter, into any reasonable shape, for he did mischief with an energy and perseverance that was truly astonishing. Once he scoured the floor with Aunt Betsey's very best Scotch snuff, and once he washed up the hearth with Uncle Abel's most immaculate clothes-brush, and once he spent half an hour in trying to make Bose wear his father's spectacles.