Saints have been calm while stretched upon the rack,
And Guatimozin smiled on burning coals;
But never yet did housewife notable

Greet with a smile a rainy washing-day.

5. But grant the welkin fair; require not thou, Who call'st thyself perchance the master there, Or study swept, or nicely dusted coat,

6.

7.

Or usual 'tendance;-ask not, indiscreet,

Thy stockings mended, though the yawning rents
Gape wide as Erebus; nor hope to find
Some snug recess impervious:

Shouldst thou try

The 'customed garden walks, thine eye shall rue
The budding fragrance of thy tender shrubs,
Myrtle or rose, all crushed beneath the weight
Of coarse, checked apron,-with impatient hand
Twitched off when showers impend; or crossing lines
Shall mar thy musings, as the wet, cold sheet
Flaps in thy face abrupt.

Wo to the friend

Whose evil stars have urged him forth to claim
On such a day the hospitable rites!

Looks, blank at best, and stinted courtesy,
Shall he receive. Vainly he feeds his hopes
With dinner of roast chickens, savory pie,
Or tart or pudding :-pudding he nor tart
That day shall eat; nor, though the husband try,
Mending what can't be helped, to kindle mirth
From cheer deficient, shall his consort's brow
Clear up propitious :-the unlucky guest
In silence dines, and early slinks away.

8. I well remember, when a child, the awe
This day struck into me; for then the maids,

I scarce knew why, looked cross, and drove me from them:
Nor soft caress could I obtain, nor hope
Usual indulgences; jelly or creams,
Relic of costly suppers, and set by
For me, their petted one; or buttered toast,
When butter was forbid; or thrilling tale
Of ghost, or witch, or murder-so I went
And sheltered me beside the parlor fire.

9. There my dear grandmother, eldest of forms,

Tended the little ones, and watched from harm,
Anxiously fond, though oft her spectacles

With elfin cunning hid, and oft the pins

Drawn from her ravelled stockings, might have soured
One less indulgent.—

10. At intervals my mother's voice was heard,
Urging dispatch: briskly the work went on,
All hands employed to wash, to rinse, to wring,
To fold, and starch, and clap, and iron, and plait.
Then would I set me down and ponder much
Why washings were.

11.

Sometimes through hollow bowl

Of pipe amused we blew, and sent aloft
The floating bubbles; little dreaming then
To see, Mongolfier, thy silken ball

Ride buoyant through the clouds-so near approach
The sports of children and the toils of men.
Earth, air, and sky, and ocean, hath its bubbles,
And verse is one of them-this most of all.

LESSON

LXXXIX.

The Western Emigrant.

1. AN axe rang sharply 'mid those forest shades
Which from creation toward the skies had towered,
In unshorn beauty.-There, with vigorous arm
Wrought a bold Emigrant, and by his side

2.

3.

His little son, with question and response,
Beguiled the toil.

"Boy, thou hast never seen
Such glorious trees. Hark, when their giant trunks
Fall, how the firm earth groans! Rememberest thou
The mighty river, on whose breast we sailed,

So many days, on toward the setting sun?

Our own Connecticut, compared to that,

Was but a creeping stream."

"Father, the brook

That by our door went singing, where I launched
My tiny boat, with my young playmates round,
When school was o'er, is dearer far to me,
Than all these bold, broad waters. To my eye

They are as strangers. And those little trees
My mother nurtured in the garden bound,
Of our first home, from whence the fragrant peach
Hung in its ripening gold, were fairer, sure,
Than this dark forest, shutting out the day."

4. "What, ho!-my little girl," and with light step
A fairy creature hasted toward her sire,
And, setting down the basket that contained
His noon repast, looked upward to his face
With sweet, confiding smile.

5.

"See, dearest, see

That bright-winged paroquet, and hear the song
Of yon gay red-bird, echoing through the trees,
Making rich music. Didst thou ever hear,
In far New England, such a mellow tone?"
6. "I had a robin that did take the crumbs
Each night and morning, and his chirping voice
Did make me joyful, as I went to tend

7.

8.

My snow-drops. I was always laughing then
In that first home. I should be happier now,
Methinks, if I could find among these dells
The same fresh violets."

Slow night drew on,

And round the rude hut of the Emigrant

The wrathful spirit of the rising storm

Spake bitter things. His weary children slept,
And he, with head declined, sat listening long
To the swoln waters of the Illinois,

Dashing against their shores.

Starting he spake
"Wife! did I see thee brush away a tear?
'Twas even so. Thy heart was with the halls
Of thy nativity. Their sparkling lights,
Carpets, and sofas, and admiring guests,
Befit thee better than these rugged walls
Of shapeless logs, and this lone, hermit home."

9. "No-no. All was so still around, methought
Upon mine ear that echoed hymn did steal,
Which 'mid the church, where erst we paid our vows,
So tuneful pealed. But tenderly thy voice
Dissolved the illusion."

10.

11.

And the gentle smile
Lighting her brow, the fond caress that soothed
Her waking infant, reassured his soul
That, wheresoe'er our best affections dwell,
And strike a healthful root, is happiness.
Content, and placid, to his rest he sank;

But dreams, those wild magicians, that do play
Such pranks when reason slumbers, tireless wrought
Their will with him.

Up rose the thronging mart
Of his own native city-roof and spire,

All glittering bright, in fancy's frost-work ray.
The steed his boyhood nurtured proudly neighed-
The favorite dog came frisking round his feet,
With shrill and joyous bark-familiar doors
Flew open-greeting hands with his were linked
In friendship's grasp he heard the keen debate
From congregated haunts, where mind with mind
Doth blend and brighten—and till morning roved
'Mid the loved scenery of his native land.

LESSON XC.

The Philosopher's Scales.

1. In days of yore, as Gothic fable tells,
When learning dimly gleamed from grated cells,
When wild Astrology's distorted eye
Shunned the fair field of true philosophy,

And, wandering through the depths of mental night,
Sought dark predictions 'mid the worlds of light;-
When curious Alchymy, with puzzled brow,
Attempted things that Science laughs at now,
Losing the useful purpose she consults

In vain chimeras and unknown results;

2. In those gray times there lived a reverend sage,
Whose wisdom shed its lustre on the age.
A monk he was, immured in cloister's walls,
Where now the ivied ruin crumbling falls.
'Twas a profound seclusion that he chose ;
The noisy world disturbed not that repose:
The flow of murmuring waters, day by day,
And whistling winds that forced their tardy way

Through reverend trees, of ages' growth, that made
Around the holy pile a deep, monastic shade;
The chanted psalm, or solitary prayer―

Such were the sounds that broke the silence there.

3. 'Twas here when his rites sacerdotal were o'er,
In the depth of his cell, with its stone-covered floor,
Resigning to thought his chimerical brain,

He formed the contrivance we now shall explain;
But whether by magic or alchymy's powers,
We know not; indeed 'tis no business of ours:
Perhaps it was only by patience and care,
At last that he brought his invention to bear.
In youth 'twas projected; but years stole away,
And ere 'twas complete he was wrinkled and gray.
But success is secure unless energy fails;

And at length he produced The Philosopher's Scales.
4. What were they?-you ask; you shall presently see;
These scales were not made to weigh sugar and tea;
O no-for such properties wondrous had they,
That qualities, feelings, and thoughts they could weigh;
Together with articles small or immense,

From mountains or planets, to atoms of sense:
Nought was there so bulky, but there it could lay;
And nought so ethereal but there it would stay;
And nought so reluctant but in it must go;
All which some examples more clearly will show.
5. The first thing he tried was the head of Voltaire,
Which retained all the wit that had ever been there;
As a weight, he threw in a torn scrap of a leaf,
Containing the prayer of the penitent thief;
When the skull rose aloft with so sudden a spell,
As to bound like a ball on the roof of the cell.

6. Next time he put in Alexander the Great,

With a garment that Dorcas had made for a weight; And though clad in armor from sandals to crown, The hero rose up, and the garment went down. 7. A long row of Alms-houses, amply endowed, By a well-esteemed Pharisee, busy and proud, Now loaded one scale, while the other was prest By those mites the poor widow dropped into the chest ;Up flew the endowment, not weighing an ounce,