But the tintings of Hope, on this storm-beaten earth,
Will melt, like the snow-flakes, away:

Turn, turn thee to Heaven, fair maiden, for bliss;
That world has a pure fount ne'er opened in this.

5. "It snows!" cries the Widow," Oh God!" and her sighs Have stifled the voice of her prayer;

Its burden ye'll read in her tear-swollen eyes,
On her cheek, sunk with fasting and care.
'Tis night-and her fatherless ask her for bread—
But He gives the young ravens their food,"

And she trusts, till her dark hearth adds horror to dread,
And she lays on her last chip of wood.

Poor sufferer! that sorrow thy God only knows— 'Tis a most bitter lot to be poor, when it snows!

Questions-What is the meaning of trow, in the first verse? What is an imbecile, ver. 2? What are the emphatic words in the last line of this verse? How far is a league, ver. 3? What is meant in this verse, when it is said, that, though leagues were between him and his home, the traveller could see the clear, glowing hearth, the table prepared," &c.?

LESSON LXVI.

Charles II. and William Penn.

Charles. WELL, friend William! I have sold you a no ble province in North America; but still I suppose you have no thoughts of going thither yourself.

Penn. Yes, I have, I assure thee, friend Charles; and I am just come to bid thee farewell.

Char. What! venture yourself among the savages of North America! Why, man, what security have you that you will not be in their war-kettle in two hours after setting foot on their shores?

Penn. The best security in the world.

Char. I doubt that, friend William; I have no idea of any security, against those cannibals, but in a regiment of good soldiers, with their muskets and bayonets. And mind I tell you beforehand, that, with all my good will for you and your family, to whom I am under obligations, I will not send a single soldier with you.

Penn. I want none of thy soldiers, Charles: I depend on something better than thy soldiers.

Char. Ah! and what may that be?

Penn, Why, I depend upon themselves-on the workings of their own hearts on their notions of justice-on their moral sense.

Char. A fine thing, this same moral sense, no doubt; but I fear you will not find much of it among the Indians of North America.

Penn. And why not among them, as well as others?

Char. Because, if they had possessed any, they would not have treated my subjects so barbarously as they have done,

Penn. That is no proof to the contrary, friend Charles. Thy subjects were the aggressors. When thy subjects first went to North America, they found these poor people the fondest and kindest creatures in the world. Every day they would watch for them to come ashore, and hasten to meet them, and feast them on the best fish, and venison, and corn which was all that they had. In return for this hospitality of the savages, as we call them, thy subjects, termed Christians, seized on their country and rich hunting grounds, for farms for themselves! Now, is it to be wondered at, that these much injured people should have been driven to des peration by such injustice; (and that, burning with revenge, they should have committed some excesses?

Char. Well, then, I hope you will not complain when they come to treat you in the same manner.

Penn. I am not afraid of it.

Char. Ah! how will you avoid it? You mean to get their hunting grounds too, I suppose?

Penn. Yes, but not by driving these poor people away

from them.

Char. No, indeed! How then will you get the lands? Penn. I mean to buy their lands of them.

Char. Buy their lands of them! Why, man, you have already bought them of me.

Penn. Yes, I know I have, and at a dear rate, too; but I did it only to get thy good will, not that I thought thou hadst any right to their lands.

Char. How, man! no right to their lands!

Penn. No, friend Charles, no right at all: what right hast thou to their lands?

Char. Why, the right of discovery, to be sure; the

right which the pope and all Christian kings have agreed to give one another.

Penn. The right of discovery! A strange kind of right, indeed! Now, suppose, friend Charles, that some canoe loads of these Indians, crossing the sea, and discovering thy island of Great Britain, were to claim it as their own, and set it up for sale over thy head,-what wouldst thou think of it?

Char. Why-why-why-I must confess, I should think it a piece of great impudence in them.

Penn. Well, then, how canst thou, a Christian, and a Christian prince too, do that which thou so utterly condemnest in these people, whom thou callest savages? Yes, friend Charles; and suppose, again, that these Indians, on thy refusal to give up thy island of Great Britain, were to make war on thee, and, having weapons more destructive than thine, were to destroy many of thy subjects, and drive the rest away,-wouldst thou not think it horribly cruel?

Char. I must say that I should, friend William : how can I say otherwise?

Penn. Well, then, how can I, who call myself a Christian, do what I should abhor even in heathen? No, I will not do it. But I will buy the right of the proper owners, even of the Indians themselves. By doing this, I shall imitate God himself, in his justice and mercy, and thereby insure his blessing on my colony, if I should ever live to plant one in North America.

LESSON LXVII.

Dialogue on Physiognomy.

Frank. Ir appears strange to me that people can be so imposed upon. There is no difficulty in judging folks by their looks. I profess to know as much of a man, a the first view, as by half a dozen years' acquaintance.

Henry. Pray, how is that done? I should wish to learn such an art.

Fr. Did you never read Lavater on Physiognomy?
Hen. No. What do you mean by such a hard word?
Fr. Physiognomy means a knowledge of men's hearis,

thoughts, and characters, by their looks. For instance, if you see a man with a forehead jutting over his eyes like a piazza; with a pair of eyebrows heavy like the cornice of a house; with full eyes, and a Roman nose,-depend on it, he is a great scholar, and an honest man.

Hen. It seems to me I should rather go below his nose, to discover his scholarship.

Fr. By no means: if you look for beauty, you may descend to the mouth and chin; otherwise never go below the region of the brain.

Enter George.

George. Well, I have been to see the man hanged. And he has gone to the other world, with just such a great forehead, and Roman nose, as you have always been praising.

Fr. Remember, George, all signs fail in dry weather.

Geor. Now, be honest, Frank, and own that there is nothing in all this science of yours. The only way to know men is by their actions. If a man commit burglary, think you a Roman nose ought to save him from punishment?

Fr. I don't carry my notions so far as that; but it is certain that all the faces in the world are different; and equally true that each has some marks about it, by which one can discover the temper and character of the person.

Enter Peter.

Peter. [to Frank.] Sir, I have heard of your fame from Dan to Beersheba; that you can know a man by his face, and can tell his thoughts by his looks. Hearing this, I have visited you, without the ceremony of an introduction.

Fr. Why, indeed, I profess something in that way. Pet. By that forehead, nose, and those eyes of yours, one might be sure of an acute, penetrating mind.

Fr. I see that you are not ignorant of physiognomy. Pet. I am not; but still I am so far from being an adep in the art, that unless the features are very remarkable, I cannot determine with certainty. But yours is the most striking face I ever saw. There is a certain firmness in the lines which lead from the outer verge to the centre of the apple of your eye, which denotes great forecast, deep thought, bright invention, and a genius for great purposes.

Fr. You are a perfect master of the art. And to show you that I know something of it, permit me to observe, that the form of your face denotes frankness, truth, and honesty.

Your heart is a stranger to guile, your lips to deceit, and your hands to fraud.

Pet. I must confess that you have hit upon my true character, though a different one from what I have sustained in the view of the world.

Fr. [to Henry and George.] Now see two strong examples of the truth of physiognomy. [While he is saying this, Peter takes out his pocket-book, and makes off with himself.] Now, can you conceive, that, without this knowledge, could fathom the character of a total stranger?

Hen. Pray, tell us by what marks you discovered that in his heart and lips were no guile, and in his hands no fraud? Fr. Ay, leave that to me; we are not to reveal our secrets. But I will show you a face and character which exactly suit him. [Feels for his pocket-book in both pockets, looks wild and concerned.]

Geor. [Tauntingly.] Ay, "in his heart is no guile, in his lips no deceit, and in his hands no fraud! Now we see a strong example of the power of physiognomy!"

Fr. He is a wretch! a traitor against every good sign! I'll pursue him to the ends of the earth. [Offers to go.]

Hen. Stop a moment.

His fine, honest face is far enough before this time. You have not yet discovered the worst injury he has done you.

Fr. What's that? I had no watch or money for him to steal.

Hen. By his deceitful lips, he has robbed you of any just conception of yourself; he has betrayed you into a foolish belief that you are possessed of most extraordinary genius and talents. Whereas, separate from the idle whim about physiognomy, you have no more pretence to genius or learning, than a common school-boy. Learn henceforth to estimate men's hands by their deeds, their lips by their words, and their hearts by their lives.

LESSON LXVIII.

Solomon Packwell.

1. In the long winter evenings which we were accustomed to spend over my grandfather's fire, I have often heard him tell the story of the family of the Packwells; and as it illus