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perhaps the greatest curiosity is an oval plate, marked with the minutes of an hour, which are exactly pointed to by a hand reaching the circumference, which insensibly dilates and contracts itself during its revolution.

Two clocks were made some years since by an English artist, and sent as a present, by the East India Company, to the Emperor of China. These clocks, says a contemporary account, are in the form of chariots, in which is placed, in a fine attitude, a lady leaning her right hand upon a part of the chariot, under which is a clock of curious workmanship, little larger than a shilling, which strikes, and repeats, and goes eight days. Upon her finger sits a bird, finely modeled, and set with diamonds and rubies, with its wings expanded in a flying posture, and actually flutters for a considerable time on touching a diamond button below it: the body of the bird (which contains part of the wheels, that in a manner give life to it) is not more than the sixteenth part of an inch. The lady holds in her left hand a gold tube, not thicker than large pin, on the top of which is a round box, not larger than a sixpence, to which a circular ornament, set with diamonds, is fixed, which goes round nearly three hours in a constant, regular motion. Over the lady's head, supported by a small fluted pillar, no bigger than a quill, are two umbrellas, under the largest of which a bell is fixed, at a considerable distance from the clock, and seeming to have no connection with it, but from which a communication is secretly conveyed to a hammer that regularly strikes the hour, and repeats the same at pleasure, by touching a diamond button fixed to the clock below.

At the feet of the lady is a dog in gold, before which, from the point of the chariot, on spiral springs, are two birds fixed, the wings and feathers of which are set with stones of various colors, and appear as if flying away with the chariot, which, from another secret motion, is contrived to run in a straight, circular, or any other direction. A boy, who lays hold of the chariot behind, seems also to push it forward. Above the umbrella are flowers and ornaments of precious stones; the whole terminating with a flying dragon set in the same manner. These gifts were wholly of gold, curiously chased, and embellished with rubies and pearls.

CHAMBERS.

XC.-CŒUR-DE-LION AT THE BIER OF HIS FATHER.

He came with haughty look,

An eagle-glance and clear;

But his proud heart through its breastplate shook,

When he stood beside the bier!

He stood there still with a drooping brow,
And clasped hands o'er it raised ;-
For his father lay before him low,
It was Coeur-de-Lion gazed!

And silently he strove

With the workings of his breast;
But there's more in late repentant love

Than steel may keep suppressed!

And his tears break forth, at last, like rain,

Men held their breath in awe,

For his face was seen by his warrior-train,

And he recked not that they saw.

He looked upon the dead,

And sorrow seemed to lie,

A weight of sorrow, even like lead,
Pale on the fast-shut eye.

He stooped and kissed the frozen cheek,
And the heavy hand of clay,

Till bursting words--yet all too weak-
Gave his soul's passion way.

"O father!" is it vain,

This late remorse and deep?
Speak to me, father! once again,
I weep-behold, I weep!
Alás! my guilty pride and ire!
Were but this work undone,
I would give England's crown, my sire!
To hear thee bless thy son.

Speak to me! mighty grief,

Ere now the dust hath stirred!
Hear me, but hear me! father, chief,
My king! I must be heard!—
Hushed, hushed-how is it that I call,

And that thou answerest not?
When was it thus, woe, woe for all

The love my soul forgot!

Thy silver hairs I see,

So still, so sadly bright!

And father, father! but for me

They had not been so white!

I bore thee down, high heart! at last,
No longer couldst thou strive;—
Oh! for one moment of the past,
To kneel and say—“forgive!"

Thou wert the noblest king,

On royal throne e'er seen;

And thou didst wear in knightly ring,

Of all the stateliest miēn;

And thou didst prove, where spears are proved,
In war, the bravest heart-

Oh! ever the renowned and loved

Thou wert-and there thou art!

"Thou that my boyhood's guide
Didst take fond joy to be!-
The time I've sported at thy side,
And climbed thy parent knee!
And there before the blessed shrine,
My sire! I see thee lie,—

How will that sad still face of thine
Look on me till I die!"

MRS. F. D. "HEMANS.

XCI.-FEWNESS OF BOOKS.

Ir is by no means certain that the ancients had not a great compensation for the fewness of their books, in the thoroughness with which they were compelled to study them. A book must all be copied with the pen, to be owned; and he who transcribed a book for the sake of owning it, would be likely to understand it. Before the art of printing, books were so scarce, that ambassadors were sent from France to Rome, to beg a copy of Cicero de Oratore, and Quintilian's Institutes, &c., because a complete copy of these works was not to be found in all France.

Albert, abbot of Gemblours, with incredible labor and expense, collected a library of one hundred and fifty volumes, including everything; and this was considered a wonder indeed. In 1494, the library of the bishop of Winchester contained parts of seventeen books on various subjects; and, on his borrowing a Bible from the convent of St. Swithin, he had to give a heavy bond, drawn up with great solemnity, that he would return it uninjured. If any one gave a book to a convent or a monastery, it conferred everlasting salvation upon him, and he offered it upon the altar of God.

When a book was purchased, it was an affâir of such consequence, that persons of distinction were called together as witnesses Previous to the year 1300, the library of Oxford, England, consisted only of a few tracts, which were carefully locked up in a small chest, or else chained, lest they should escape; and at the commencement of the 14th century, the royal library of France contained only four classics, with a few devotional works. So great was the privilege of owning a book, that one of their books on natural history contained a picture representing the Deity as resting on the Sabbath, with a book in his hand in the act of reading!

It was probably no better in earlier times. Knowledge was scattered to the four winds, and truth was hidden in a well. Lycurgus and Pythagoras were obliged to travel into Egypt, Persia, and India, in order to understand the doctrine of the metempsychosis. "Solon and Plato had to go to Egypt for what they knew. Herodotus and Strabo were obliged to travel to collect their history, and to construct their geography as they traveled.

Few men pretended to own a library, and he was accounted truly favored who owned a half dozen volumes. And yet, with all this scarcity of books, there were in those days scholars who greatly surpassed us. We cannot write poetry like Homer, nor history like Thucydides. We have not the pen which Aristotle and Plato held, nor the eloquence with which Demosthenes thrilled. They surpassed us in painting and in sculpture. Their books were but few. But those were read, as Juvenal says, ten times—“ °decies repetita placebunt." Their own resources were tasked to the utmost, and he who could not draw from his own fountain, in vain sought for neighbors, from whose wells he could borrow.

How very different with us! We read without measure, and almost without profit.

REV. JOHN "TODD.

XCII. THE AMERICAN FLAG.

WHEN Freedom from her mountain height
Unfurled her standard to the air,
She tore the azure robe of night,
And set the stars of glory there.
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes
The milky baldrick of the skies,
And striped its pure, celestial white,
With streakings of the morning light;

Then from his mansion in the sun
She called her eagle-beârer down,
And gave into his mighty hand
The symbol of her chosen land.

Majestic monarch of the cloud,
Who rear'st aloft thy regal form,
To hear the tempest trumping loud
And see the lightning lances driven,
When strive the warriors of the storm,
And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven,
Child of the sun! to thee 'tis given
To guard the banner of the free,
To hover in the sulphur smoke,
To ward away the battle stroke,
And bid its blendings shine afar,
Like rainbows on the cloud of war,
The harbingers of victory!

Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly,
The sign of hope and triumph high,
When speaks the signal trumpet tone,
And the long line comes gleaming on.
Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet,
Has dimmed the glistening bayonet,
Each soldier eye shall brightly turn
To where thy sky-born glories burn;
And as his springing steps advance,
Catch war and vengeance from the glance.
And when the cannon-mouthings loud
Heave in wild wreaths the battle-shroud,
And gory sabres rise and fall

Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall;
Then shall thy meteor glances glow,
And cowering foes shall sink beneath
Each gallant arm that strikes below
That lovely messenger of death.

Flag of the seas! on ocean wave
Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave;
When death, careering on the gale,
Sweeps darkly 'round the bellied sail,
And frighted waves rush wildly back
Before the broadside's reeling rack,
Each dying wanderer of the sea
Shall look at once to heaven and thee,

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