we excelled; and, if the villagers' judgments! were reliable, we could also do "pretty considerable" at Row-ing. A taste for ornithological pursuits also rendered bird-nesting popular; and during the summer months we had "some real good times," as you, reader, would say. Half holiday on Wednesday was institutional with us; and though agriculturists might grumble, we did not debar ourselves of "cross-country runs," nor the tortuous peregrinations into which our relaxed sense of liberty led us on these occasions. "Where are you off to, this afternoon, Fred?" inquired my coadjutor, Charlie Mayne, the private and particular friend to whom the deepest secrets of my heart, and half of all my candy, were confided. "Charlie," I said, with the mysterious air of a person who is going to say something very wonderful, "I've got a nest." "Where?" "Breda's Cliff." It was a lovely July afternoon, with a bright sun shining, and the air charged with the sweetest perfumes. In the fields, the ripening grain was beginning to show a yellow tint, that heralded its approaching maturity; the fullgrown birds sang mid-air in the deep, rich notes of their strength. "The brooks, too, warbled as they ran; 'Twas often doubtful which was heard." And in the hedge-rows, the dear little wild flowers opened their petals in the glory of their meekness to the toiling bee, or stretched out their slender stems invitingly to the fairy butterfly that flitted dreamily by. Over the dale travelled the resounding cuckoo, and in the woods the woodpecker was tapping the trees busily with his tiny beak. Our heads were shaded from the sun by the overhanging avenues of trees, laden with luxuriant fruit; and as we walked along, lazily leaning on "Breda's Cliff! You won't be able to get Rip's back, - Charlie at one side, and I at the any nest there. It's impossible." "Well, if you are, you are, and that's all about it," said Charlie, in a conciliatory tone. "Let us start now, then. We'll take Rip' with us, and see if we don't have a spiflicating' time. Seaborne and a crowd of fellows have gone off somewhere to Breda's Castle, I suppose; so we won't be troubled with them It's a wonder they ain't tired of that humbugging, crumbling old ruin; but they've some little dodge in hand, I know. But, I say. Fred, how do you intend to get at the nest. eh? I'm blowed if I think a single fellow has ever tried anything there. There's not an inch of firm footing until you reach the terrace; and how will you get down that far?" "I've an idea, Charlie, and you leave the matter to me. First, let us get that coil of hempen cordage out of the storehouse, you can do that, — and I'll go and harness Rip." Going into the stable I brought out my pony, Rip. It was as a particular favor that we were allowed to keep any species of pets whatsoever, providing we kept them clean; and after having indulged in dropsical rabbits, fowls, guinea pigs, and white mice, all of which I disposed of at a large discount, I became the owner of this shaggy little Shetlander, at the instance of a generous grandmother. Charlie appeared with the rope, and throwing it across Rip's back, we started towards the cliff, which was three miles off. other, all the earth seemed to be singing the glory of golden summer. "Seaborne's a paltry fellow, too, keeping his secrets so mysteriously," said Charlie, in the most commonplace manner. "He might think a fellow would blab, I'm beggared if he mightn't; but he and two or three of his chums want to appear consequential; that's their object; and they're going to do a 'feed' on the sly at the castle. I saw them sneak half a dozen bottles of bitter beer into a basket, and I heard Seaborne ask Deane how many cigarettes he had left. Wouldn't it just serve them right to give them a surprise?" "Let us go round that way, then; it will not be much out of our way," I said; and accordingly we shaped our course in the direction of the castle, which was about a quarter of a mile beyond the cliff. Although Charlie Mayne so irreverently alluded to it as a humbugging, crumbling old ruin," to me it wore the sacred garb of antiquity; and with all my foolishness, I often enjoyed a quiet walk around it. It was only a vestige - two circular walls, with a narrow moat in between, built of massive stone blocks; the outer wall nine feet thick, the inner four feet, - stones that perhaps had been carried hither by the same wondrous giants who built Stonehenge, around which the clustering ivy timidly clung, peeped at by the dwarf ferns that issued out of the crannies, and which the moss had clothed with a bright green robe. A square aperture, where the drawbridge had been, led into a roomy court-yard, which was surround ed by two large roofless halls, once the hab- | that I'm nearly a year older than you (Charlie itable division of the castle; and climbing the walls, one could see the long coast-line stretching for miles. The tradition associated with the castle was, that in the good old Saxon times a valorous old chief, named Breda, lived there, and that when the Normans overran the country, he surrendered to them under certain conditions, which they violated as soon as they became possessed of his stronghold; and seizing the old chief, they hurled him over the cliff. To this day it was said Breda's wail could be heard distinctly on certain occasions. "Seaborne, ahoy! Seaborne, ahoy!" lustily bawled Charlie; "it's no use hiding, you know; so you may as well come out," he continued, in a tone of doubtful assurance. "Well, I'm blowed! They don't seem to be here, after all. I wonder where they've got to." No traces could be seen of Seaborne, nor his companions; and apparently they had not been there. So we then walked on to the cliff. was tiresomely paternal at times), and the people will hold me responsible for your safety." "O, that's all right. Here, let us cut a small groove in the rock for the rope to pass through," I said, producing a small hammer and chisel; and then doubling the rope and making two loops, I slipped one over my body, drawing it as tight as possible under the arms, while Charlie secured the other loop around Rip's neck. Going to the side of the cliff, I looked at the silvery water rippling two hundred feet below me, at the foot of the hoary rock, and a thousand suggestive probabilities arose in my mind; but I was much too excited to desist, had I wished to do so. "Be sure you hold Rip's head all the while, and don't jerk me at all. When I give the word, lower, or raise, whichever it is, gently. Now, then, look out; here I gosteady, steady - keep the rope tight." Sliding carefully over the cliff, I found myself suspended mid-air. I dared not look downwards; "But, Fred, you don't really intend to de- the consciousness of my fearful height made scend that cliff- do you?" said Charlie, sur- me shiver and feel dizzy. The birds nestling veying the slipperly lichen-covered rock, the in the crevices, terrified at so unusual a visstrict perpendicularity of which was only dis-itor, came swooping round my head, sometimes almost brushing against my face. Little showers of sand and pebbles came pouring down upon me from the groove in the rock. I saw that the slim rope was rubbing against a jagged point, and very little would sever it. 66 Steady, Charlie; I'm low enough-steady." As Charlie Mayne said, I was outside - beyond the terrace where the nest was, and on which I desired to land; and as it was the only break, as I before said, in the perpendicularity of the rock, I hesitated for some time as to what I should do. I was afraid to give myself a swing, lest the rope should break. Suddenly the rope was whirled round, and my face turbed by a narrow terrace about twelve feet below the ledge of the cliff. "You'll stand a good chance of breaking your neck if you do; and suppose you were suddenly to hear Breda's wail, why, you'd lose all presence of mind in no time." "O, bosh!" I impolitely rejoined. "I don't believe in Breda's wail; it is as likely as a whale in a soup tureen. I was on the cliff one stormy day, and heard the wind whistling through the clefts in the rock: another day it was calm, and I stood here. I heard a low cry, different from that caused by the wind: but it happened to proceed from a gull's nest the very one I'm after now." -- "Well, I think it's humbug; but the point turned seaward; large drops of cold perspirais, how are you going to get down?" "I'm going to make a loop at either end of that rope one end I will slip around my waist, the other over Rip, and then I will let you lower me down." "But the ledge of the cliff projects so far that it completely overshadows the terrace; and when you reach its level, you will be some feet outside it." "Now, Charlie, I really thought you had some pluck; yet you are showing a white feather at a little mountaineering." "O, no, I'm not. I do not wish any accident to happen though; for you must recollect tion trickled down my forehead, and ere I could recover myself, I felt a hand grasp my jacket behind, giving at the same time a stong pull, and landing me on the parapet. "Seaborne!" I breathlessly exclaimed, seeing that young gentleman calmly standing in a rude cave running into the rock, surrounded by Deane, Sadler, and Merryhew, all of whom were regaling themselves on baked potatoes, cooked by a small fire in the centre, beer in tin cans, and cigarettes. "What in the name of conscience brought you down here, Fred?" "A nest." "A nest? "O, what a lark!" chorused all the boys. "It was a gull, rather," I retorted; "but how did you fellows get down here?” "O, it's a splendid thing- an underground passage leading to the castle. We only discovered it the other day. Halloa! Who's that shouting?" "Fred, Fred, what's the row? Have you got it?" Charlie was calling on the cliff at the top of his voice. "Smugglers and pirates," I replied. 66 'Gammon." - you have exhibited here. You will find, as you advance, whether you have the desired means of instruction, or whether you must be content to improve yourselves only in leisure hours, that patient application will accomplish in the higher fields of study precisely what it has done here. The astronomer that weighs the moons of Saturn has attained to his mathematical power and skill by daily steps, each requiring no more of a stride than you were conscious of when you grasped the principle of cube root. Take the daily steps in any department of learning, and in time "It isn't. Here's a subterranean passage you will be master of it. leading right up to the castle." Such is my best wish for you. And for "Is there, though?" said Charlie, very the best single piece of advice, I would say, doubtfully. "Yes: here, I'll slip the rope, and you go to the castle. Seaborne and a whole crowd of fellows are down here - we're going up now." | The passage ran with evenness the whole of its length. It had evidently been constructed comparatively lately, and certainly long after the castle was a ruin. Probably it was the work of some smugglers, and as I lean towards this idea myself, we will accept it, who never dreamed that they were laboring for the future benefit of the Breda's Castellian Secret League, as Seaborne, Deane, Sadler, Merryhew, and I dubbed ourselves. And I suppose we had no jolly times!"O, no! not in the least- certainly not." Read! - read constantly and systematically if you can, but read! Dr. Johnson said that while a father was debating which of two books his son should read first, another boy would read them both. Have a book for every unemployed hour-a book for a journey, a book at your bedside, a book within reach at work. Think, my young friends, what a library is! In the preface to "Gil Blas," the author tells the story of a Spanish student who had placed over his treasure a stone with the inscription, Here lies buried the soul of the licentiate Pedro Garcias. This is but a step from the title page of the book. So every great author puts his soul into his work; the title page is a symbol of his tombstone; and no matter in after years through what illimitable fields his immortal part may be straying, here, at least, we can commune with its earthly manifestation. In my library I love to imagine myself surrounded by the souls of the great departed. For me they live still, and all that is most pungent, most delicate, inost imaginative, most witty, wise, and genial in their conceptions, speaks to my heart as truly as though I met them in the flesh. At such times I feel that the nervous elegance of Pope, the majestic harmonies of Milton, the sweet and pensive melancholy of Gray, and the allcomprehending genius of Shakespeare, are filling the silent air as with a living presence. I have spoken of your reaching this point in your education; for I assume that most of you will go forward to take the advantages offered to you by the higher schools, and that this grammar school course will be merely your introduction to learning. But, even if your regular attendance at school is to end here, it by no means follows that your education is to stop. The world of nature is open to every observing eye, and the world of thought, whose records are in books, is equally accessible. If I had but a single wish for you, it would be that you may carry into maturity the love of study, the habits of perseverance, and the sweet docility of temper | later appear. Lord Bacon said, somewhat proudly, “I have taken all knowledge to be my province." We, who have not the command of his vast field of vision, find that nothing of real value comes amiss. Poetry, science, philosophy, criticism, though apparently disconnected, in time come to illustrate and strengthen each other. The whole circle of human knowledge is connected by a common chain, and to the earnest seeker the golden links will sooner or But, while I urge you to make excursions on all sides into the field of literature, I must caution you against giving too much time to reading fiction. I think that every scholar should read Scott, Dickens, and Thackeray, and perhaps two or three more eminent nov. elists. But most novels are designed only to amuse a leisure hour; they do not discipline any of the faculties, and rarely give any valuable information, or leave any profound impression. Such works should no more form the staple of reading than confectionery should be the chief course for a hungry man's dinner. Some years ago, in the course of a conversation with Thackeray, in which the great novelist dropped his usual icy reserve, and talked with the off-hand frankness and airy good humor of a boy enjoying a Christmas holiday, I asked him if he had read Mrs. -'s novels, and what he thought of them. With an indescribable shrug, and a deliciously comical glance, he answered, "Why, no. You see I am a pastry-cook. I bake tarts, and sell them. I eat bread-and-butter." In urging you to study the open book of nature, and to explore the great treasuries of human thought and feeling, I am merely pointing the way to your highest happiness and usefulness. The difference between the truly educated and the totally ignorant man, is precisely all that makes life noble and precious. The one plods in a dull round of labor, or a duller round of coarse pleasures. The only phases of the seasons that concern him are those that affect his crop of potatoes, or prevent his out-of-door sports. A landscape for him is a pretty piece of mowing, or it is a steep and rocky hill, impassable to his carts, and on which the gnarled trees would be hardly worth cutting. "A primrose by the river's brim A yellow primrose is to him, But it is so ordered in the universe, that, when the culture of the perceptions, reason, imagination, taste, and moral sentiments go hand in hand, the idea of beauty and order is developed a satisfying harmony between nature and the soul. Every varying form or expression of nature, under the changing lights of the day, and during the course of the seasons, reveals new beauty to us. The miracle of sunrise, the splendors of the west at evening, the solemn procession over nightly skies, the myriad wonders of vegetation, the songs of birds, — all things in creation at the fitting moment can touch the soul with a feeling too deep for speech. This love for the beautiful in nature (and ir. art, as it follows and suggests nature) will be your most lasting pleasure. Whatever else may fade, this faculty will grow with your growth. The world looks more beautiful every year to eyes that have begun to dim. I don't think I ever knew fully how lovely an apple tree in blossom could be until a year or two ago. But if I should go on with this theme as my feelings might prompt, I might talk until the moon rises from the blue sea yonder. I have the pleasure of telling you that the Public Library is now open to you. I trust that nothing will prevent your acquiring that store of information, that knowledge of the treasures of our literature, together with that elevation of sentiment and refinement of taste, which will ennoble your whole life, and save you from the darkening miseries of an illiterate old age. THE physician Van Helmont, born at Brussels, towards the close of the sixteenth century, gave much of his time to alchemy, and thought he had found the wonderful elixir of life when he discovered the spirits of hartshorn, because it restored life to those who seemed to have lost it. The great study of Van Helmont was to find a universal remedy. The transmuting of the baser metals into gold had less attractions for him. Indeed, there are reasons for believing that he cared little for money, as he declined the offers of three successive German emperors, who promised him wealth and honors if he would take up his abode at Vienna; and the sick, according to his biographer, “never languished long under his hands, being always killed or cured in three days." LEARN in youth to be exact and thoughtful in all things. If your friends call you a careless boy or girl, devote all your energies to conquer that fault, or it will conquer you. Many talented readers, speakers, and writers are never celebrated, or even appreciated. sim ply from carelessness. A careless, blundering boy or man is no better than a stumbling horse. Remember the college story of the young man who placed the emphasis in the following passage on the word him: “And he spake to his sons, saying, Saddle me the ass. And they saddled him." The more care we take of our words and actions, the wiser we shall be. Only foolish and silly boys and girls can desire to live thoughtless of the present and careless of the future. Edward. What can we do, Ella, to amuse Miss Sinclair this evening? We have been leading a very stupid life since her arrival, and I wouldn't blame her if she went off in a fit of homesickness soon. Ella. I hope not. I am really quite ashamed, Miss Sinclair, to think I have done so little to entertain you. I have endeavored to make amends, however, by inviting two or three friends this evening. Miss Sinclair. I shall be happy to meet them; but pray don't put yourself out on my account, for I am enjoying my visit with you very much. Bell rings. Enter BRIDGET. Bridget. Here a letther for ye's, miss. Ella. O, dear, dear! if that fright of an aunt Betty isn't coming here this very evening! Was there ever anything so provoking? Miss Sinclair. Who is this aunt Betsey, pray? Ella. She's an old country aunt of mine, that's a perfect bore. She generally makes a visit once or twice a year, and always comes at the most inconvenient time possible. Edward. I can remember when no one thought her a bore. That winter when we were all sick with the measles, and she came and took care of us, we didn't consider her in that light then. Ella. Dear me, Edward! you are always praising her; and if you think so much of her, I hope you'll entertain her. Edward. I intend to, according to the best of my ability. Ella. I suppose you'll be taking her all over town, as you did the last time she was here: How you can have the courage to display that old poke-bonnet down our fashionable promenade, I cannot imagine. Edward. I don't think of the bonnet, but of the kind old face beneath it. I think aunt Betsey was the means of saving my life, and I shall always love and respect her. Ella. Well, if you have a fancy that way, I shall give you full liberty to indulge it. One thing is in our favor. She writes she is more deaf than ever; so we shall be able to say what we please before her. (Bell rings.) There she is, as I live! Enter AUNT BETSEY and BRIDGET. Bridget. Miss Crane, ma'am. Aunt Betsey. Why, niece Ella, how do you do? Ella. (Stiffly.) I'm very well, I thank you. Aunt Betsey. Glad to hear it. But, sakes alive, what a head of hair you've got! It beats all natur' what a powerful sight of hair the gals have nowadays. They ought to be as strong as Samson, every one on 'em! Ella. This is Miss Sinclair, Miss Crane. Aunt Betsey. (Courtesies.) I hope I see you well, miss. Miss Sinclair. Quite well, I thank you. Edward. (Shaking hands.) Dear aunt Betsey, how glad I am to see you! Aunt Betsey. I needn't ask if you're well, for you never looked better. You've grown just like your father, only handsomer. Edward. There, there, aunty, don't flatter me. Let me take your things. [Exit EDWARD, with bonnet, shawl, umbrella, and bandbox.] Ella. Dear me, what a fright! I wonder if there is any way to dispose of her. Miss Sinclair. I'll attend to her case. There's a better fire out in the sitting-room, Miss Crane; hadn't you better go out there and warm you? Aunt Betsey. No, I'm obleeged to you, miss; I ain't a bit cold; for when I travel in the winter, I always put on an extra set of flannels. I'd enough sight ruther sit in here with the rest of the folks. Miss Sinclair. The case is a more difficult one than I imagined. Ella. The stupid old thing! I don't supWhat will Mr. Simper say to her? pose we could hire her to leave the parlor. (Bell rings.) There! I shouldn't wonder if that was he now! Enter BRIDGET and MR. SIMPER. Good evening, Mr. Simper. I'm delighted to see you. Allow me to make you acquainted with my friend Miss Sinclair. |