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which he lived. Yet he was useful in his station, and appeared thankful to Providence for that share of comforts which had fallen to his lot; speaking to me of the excellent qualities of his wife, and the pleasures of his humble home. His, thought 1, is the farthing candle, or the little lamp in the dark corner.

The small bright lamp in the shop-window, seemed an apt representative of the mechanic seated behind it. His mind shone brightly on the few objects it was employed upon, but probably did not reach much beyond them. Had this man aspired to some wider sphere of action, thought I, his little light might have been overlooked or lost; but now it is regarded with respect and pleasure. A whole class of small tradesmen sprung up


my thoughts, as I looked on the long rows of street lamps gleaming wherever I turned myself. The light of these men, said I, is not very brilliant, yet it shows itself to a considerable distance, and shines in all the ordinary walks of life. How much more useful is it than some brighter things!

The patent lamp reminded me of the active and intelligent merchant, extending his commerce into all parts of the world, and enriching himself and his country by his successful transactions. The parts of some men of this class, well exercised by the nature of their employments, shine with great lustre, and fill a large space with their useful and beautiful light. I have observed however, that as the flame of the Argand lamp, when raised too high, is apt to crack the glass which surrounds it, so some of these men, wishing to shine too far, have met with a similar misfortune. Whoever is in the practice of reading the public newspapers, may often have found several paragraphs filled with accidents of this nature.

The highly gifted statesman, encircled with the imposing ornaments of bis rank, might be well represented by the lamp which adorned the public room. It is evident however, that if the polished metal be not kept clean and bright, it can add little to the lustre of the lamp; and if titles and honours be unhappily stained by vicious or selfish actions, they do but render their possessor more contemptible.

The, lucid gas-light, the flame of which might seem to be fed on nothing, reminded me of the wit, or the poet, whose

subtle genius is composed of flame, and burns.on, though you can. not discover the fuel by which it is supported. I thought too there was some analogy between the noxious vapours emitted by impure gas and the effusions of a corrupt imagination; and I wished that some means might be discovered of subjecting the names of our poets and fine writers to the action of lime water that, having deposited all their grosser particles, they might burn with purity and sweetness.

Some parts of this paper my young readers may apply to themselves and their companions; but it is chiefly intended to show them, that in acting their parts in life, they ought to be contented with the station in which Providence has placed them, and not aspire after situations for which their talents


be unequal. Let them remember, that many of the calamities of men might be avoided, if they would be content to "shine only in their proper places.” Let them also ever keep in view the injunction of our divine Redeemer, “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.”




sun, it

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" This bird is called by the Greeks the bird of flaming wing,' because when it flies against the

appears fire-brand. Its plurnage when young, is rose coloured, and at ten months old the color of fire.

• Its beak,' says Monsieur Buffon, “is of a very extraordinary form, its legs excessively high, its neck long and slender, its body stands higher, though it is less than the stork.' It is a bird of passage and numerous at St. Domingo, and the Caribbee Islands. They fly in society and form themselves into a line, so that at a certain distance they resemble a brick wall, and somewhat nearer, soldiers arranged in rank and file. They place sentinels which give an alarm by a very shrill cry, like the sound of a trumpet, at which they all take flight. Their flesh is much admired as food, and ancient epicures were very fond of their tongues."



This bird is found, according to Monsieur Buffon, in the interior of Africa, at some distance from the Cape of Good Hope, and is celebrated for indicating where wild bees' nests may be found ; twice a day its shrill cry is heard sounding cherr, cherr; which seems to call the honey-hunters, who answer by a soft whistle. When it is seen it flies and hovers over a hollow tree that contains a nest; and if the hunters do not come it redoubles its cries, flies back, returns to the tree, and points out the prey in the most striking manner, forgetting nothing to excite them to profit by the treasure it has discovered, and which probably it could not enjoy without the aid of man; either because the entrance to the nest is too small, or from other circumstances which the relater has not told us. While the honey is procuring, it flies to some distance, interestingly observing all that passes, and waiting for its part of the spoil, which the hunters never forget to leave, though not enough to satiate the bird.

This account was confirmed by a gentleman, who assisted at the destruction of many bees' nests, and procured two of these birds that had been killed.



« At the French fort St. Louis, there was a lioness which was kept chained. She had a disease in the jaw which reduced her to great extremity, and she was at length thrown into a neighbouring field. In this state she was found by Monsieur Compagnon, as he returned from hunting. The eyes were closed, the jaw open, and already swarming with ants. Compagnon took pity on the poor animal, washed the mouth with water, and poured some milk down her throat. The lioness recovered by degrees and was brought back to the fort, and conceived such an affection for her benefactor, that she would receive food only from him; and when cured followed him about the island with a cord round her neck, like the most familiar dog."




“ A Lion having escaped from the menagerie of the great Duke of Tuscany, entered Florence, every where spreading

Among the fugitives was a woman with a child in her arms, which she let fall. He seized, and seemed ready to devour it, when the mother transported by the tender affections of nature, ran back, threw herself before the Lion, and by her gestures demanded the child. The lion looked at her steadfastly, her cries and tears seemed to affect him, till at last, he laid the child down without doing it the least injury. C.


Edwin had remained at home till he was twelve years old, and had scarcely received instruction from any lips but those of his beloved parents, or occasionally from his grandpapa who resided with them. The old gentleman had been long established in a very extensive commercial undertaking, into which, many years since, he had received his son as partner. Yet, though possessed of this younger assistant, habit had rendered the occupations of business so pleasant, that he still took a very active share in them ; thus leaving Mr. Henry Wordsworth sufficient leisure, to superintend, during some part of the day, the education of his little boys.

But at the time to which I have alluded, this aged friend and relative, who ever since the death of his wife had made an honored member of their family, was also called to enter into rest. And not only did they miss his serene and geutle aspect; the smile of approbation, which seemed as it were to put the stamp of experience on all their little plans; and those eheerful profitable remarks, to which they were accustomed to listen with delight: but such an increase of thought and employment accumulated on his son, as at first he felt scarcely able to meet. Under these circumstances it became absolutely necessary that he should relinquish his office of tutor; and accordingly he resolved to place Edwin at a highly respectable academy, in a town about twenty miles distant, intending, should the trial answer his expectation, that his brothers should follow him shortly. A friend who resided in the same place,



Mr. Abel, kindly promised to notice the little boy, and watch over his mind and body with a.parental eye.

Mr. Wordsworth bad already received more than once, satisfactory accounts from this friend, when the following passage, contained in a letter, occasioned him no small uneasiness,• Dear Edwin dined with us last week, and was very good and pleasant. There is one thing, however, which grieves me, and I think I should fail in duty.if I did not mention it. I am not satisfied with his conduct in the house of God. I observed that in two or three Sundays, he had lost that sweet and serious expression of countenance, which I have remarked in your little ones; and his eyes were wandering to all parts of the church. I spoke to him seriously and tenderly on the subject; he wept, and promised amendment, and for some weeks be kept his word; but lately he has again been sadly inattentive, indeed, last Sunday, I was pained by seeing an occasional interchange of smiles and shispers, between him and his next companion. Do not, however, write to him about it; for his affection for you is so strong, and his little heart so tender, that a written reproof would almost break it. The idea that he had displeased you, and could not immediately seek forgiveness, would be most distressing to him. Why is the complaint made then,' I think I hear you say, if I am to adopt no means to remedy it?' But wait with patience, and I am going to give you an opportunity. I shall pass your house in a few days, on my way to Arden, and I will leave Edwin for four or five hours, and call for him as I return. You can then give him a word of advice, which will have more weight than counsel, reproof, or punishment, from all the world besides."

Mr. Wordsworth felt truly thankful that he possessed a friend, so watchful, and at the same time so kindly considerate of Edwin's feelings: yet he could not help regarding it as a kindness which Edwin little deserved. For he had been so carefully taught to keep holy the Sabbath-day, and so powerfully reminded, that God is greatly to be feared in the assembly of his saints, and to be had in reverence of all that are about him, that his fault was wilful and inexcuseable. Nevertheless suis papa willingly complied with the request of not writing,

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