The maid who binds her warrior's sash,N
With smile that well her pain dissembles,
The while beneath her drooping lash

One starry tear-drop hangs and trembles,
Though heaven alone records the tear,
And fame shall never know the story,

Her heart has shed a drop as dear

As e'er bedewed the field of glory.

The wife who girds her husband's sword,
'Mid little ones who weep or wonder,
And bravely speaks the cheering word,

What though her heart be rent asunder!
Doomed nightly in her dreams to hear
The bolts of death around him rattle,

Hath shed as sacred blood as e'er

Was poured upon a field of battle.

The mother who conceals her grief,

While to her breast her son she presses, Then breathes a few brave words and brief, Kissing the patriot brow she blesses,

With no one but her secret God

To know the pain that weighs upon her, Sheds holy blood as e'er the sod

Received on Freedom's field of honor.

T. BUCHANAN READ.

Biography. - Thomas Buchanan Read was born in Chester County, Pennsylvania, in 1822, and died in New York City in 1872.

In 1839, Read decided upon art as a profession, and soon gained distinction as a portrait painter. He resided at various times in New York, Philadelphia, Boston, and Cincinnati; and the last years of his life were passed in Rome, Italy. He was the author of several volumes of poems, which have been much admired.

Among his other poems are the following: "The New Pastoral," "The Home by the Sea," and "The Wagoner of the Alleghanies."

Notes.-A sash, as used in the lesson, means a band worn about the waist or over the shoulder: it is a badge of distinction among certain military officers. What other well-known meaning has the word?

Bolts of death means any missiles of destruction used in battle, as bullets, cannon-balls, arrows, or javelins.

Language. Use the following pairs of words in sentences, and show the difference in their meaning:- Girds, binds; shed. pour.

32. THE

SAGACITY OF THE

sa găç'i ty, state of being wise.
in trudes, thrusts one's self in.
nǎt'u ral ists, those who study

the history of animals and plants. im pēde, place any difficulty in the way of.

sŏl'i tūde, a state of being alone. fôr'çeps, pair of pincers.

SPIDER.

sŭs'te nançè, food.
glūti nous, resembling glue.
părʼal lel, running in the same
direction.

an tǎg'o nist, one who fights
against another; an enemy.

sub sist'ed, fed; lived.
sǎe'ri fīced (fizd), destroyed by.

Animals in general are sagacious in proportion as they cultivate society. Elephants and beavers show the greatest signs of this sagacity when they are together in large numbers; but when man intrudes himself into their communities, they lose all their spirit of industry, and indicate but a very small share of that trait for which, when in a social state, they are so remarkable.

Among insects, the labors of the bee and the ant have employed the attention and admiration of naturalists, but all their sagacity seems to be lost upon separation, and a single bee or ant seems destitute of every degree of industry, is the most stupid insect imaginable, languishes for a time in solitude, and soon dies.

Of all the solitary insects I have ever noticed, the spider is the most sagacious, and its actions, to me, who have attentively considered them, seem almost to exceed belief. This insect is formed by nature for war, not only upon other insects, but also upon its own species. Nature seems to have formed it for this condition of life.

Its head and breast are covered with a strong natural coat of mail, which is impenetrable to the attacks of every other insect, and its body is enveloped in a soft, pliable skin, which eludes. the sting even of a wasp. Its legs are terminated by strong claws, not unlike those of a lobster; and their vast length, like spears, serves to keep every assailant at a distance.

Not worse furnished for observation than for attack or defense, it has several eyes, large, transparent, and covered with a horny substance, which, however, does not impede its vision. Besides this, it is furnished with a forceps above the mouth, which serves to kill or secure the prey already caught in its claws or its net.

Such are the implements of war with which the body is immediately furnished; but its net to entangle the enemy seems to be what it chiefly trusts to, and what it takes most pains to render as complete as possible. Nature has furnished the body of

this little creature with a glutinous liquid, which it spins into thread, coarse or fine as it chooses.

In order to fix its threads when it begins to weave, it emits a small drop of its liquid against the wall, which, hardening by degrees, serves to hold the thread very firmly. Then, as it recedes from the first point, the thread lengthens; and when the spider has come to the place where the other end of the thread should be fixed, gathering up with its claws the thread, which would otherwise be too slack, it is stretched tight and fixed to the wall in the same manner as before.

In this way it spins and fixes several threads parallel to one another, which, so to speak, serve as the warp to the intended web. To form the woof, it spins in the same manner its thread, transversely fixing one end to the first thread that was spun, and which is always the strongest of the whole web, and the other to the wall. All these threads, being newly spun, are glutinous, and therefore stick to one another wherever they happen to touch; and in those parts of the web most likely to be torn, our natural artist strengthens them, by doubling the threads sometimes six-fold.

I perceived, about four years ago, a large spider in one corner of my room, making its web, and though the servant frequently leveled her fatal broom against the labors of the little animal, I had the good fortune then to prevent its destruction.

In three days the web was completed; nor could I avoid thinking that the insect seemed to exult in its new abode. It repeatedly traversed it round, and examined the strength of every part of it, retired into its hole, and came out very frequently. The

first enemy, however, it had to encounter, was another and a much larger spider, which, having no web of its own, and having probably exhausted all its stock in former labors of this kind, came to invade the property of its neighbor.

Soon, then, a terrible encounter followed, in which the invader seemed to have the victory, and the laborious spider was obliged to take refuge in its hole. Upon this I perceived the victor using every art to draw the enemy from its stronghold. He seemed to go off, but quickly returned, and when he found all his arts vain, began to destroy the new web without mercy. This brought on another battle, and, contrary to my expectations, the laborious spider became conqueror, and fairly killed its antagonist.

Now then, in peaceful possession of what was justly its own, it waited three days with the utmost impatience, repairing the breaks of its web, and taking no food that I could perceive. At last, however, a large blue fly fell into the snare, and struggled hard to get loose. The spider gave it leave to entangle itself as much as possible, but it seemed to be too strong for the cobweb.

I was greatly surprised when I saw the spider immediately sally out, and in less than a minute weave a new net around its captive, by which the motion of its wings was stopped, and when it was fairly entangled in this manner, it was seized and dragged into the hole.

In this manner it lived, in a perilous state, and nature seemed to have fitted it for such a life; for upon a single fly it subsisted for more than a week. I once put a wasp into the nest, but when the