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ough the varying scenes of each earthly clime,
the lesson of nature, the voice of time;
man at last, like his fathers gray,

tes in his own dust-' Passing away.'

LESSON XVI.

The Death of the Flowers.-BRyant.

ancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, ng winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and

sere.

n the hollows of the grove, the withered leaves lie dead, stle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread. n and the wren are flown, and from the shrub the jay, m the wood-top calls the crow, through all the gloomy day.

are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprung and stood

ter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?

ey all are in their graves; the gentle race of flowers g in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours. is falling where they lie; but the cold November rain , from out the gloomy earth, the lovely ones again.

d-flower and the violet, they perished long ago, wild-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow; The hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood, yellow sun-flower by the brook, in autumn beauty stood, the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men,

e brightness of their smile was gone from upland, glade and glen.

w, when comes the calm, mild day, as still such days will come,

the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home,

When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still,

And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill,

The south wind searches for the flowers, whose fragrance late he bore,

And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.

And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died, The fair, meek blossom that grew up and faded by my side In the cold, moist earth we laid her when the forest cast the leaf, And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief; Yet not unmeet it was, that one, like that young friend of ours, So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers.

LESSON XVII.

The Autumn Evening.-PEABODY.

BEHOLD the western evening light!
It melts in deepening gloom:
So calmly Christians sink away,
Descending to the tomb.

The winds breathe low, the withering leaf
Scarce whispers from the tree:

So gently flows the parting breath,
When good men cease to be.

How beautiful on all the hills

The crimson light is shed!
'Tis like the peace the Christian gives
To mourners round his bed.

How mildly, on the wandering cloud,
The sunset beam is cast!

Tis like the memory left behind,

When loved ones breathe their last.

And now, above the dews of night,
The yellow star appears:

So faith springs in the hearts of those
Whose eyes are bathed in tears.

But soon the morning's happier light
Its glories shall restore;

And eyelids, that are sealed in death,
Shall ope, to close no more.

LESSON XVIII.

Autumn Woods-BRYANT.

ERE, in the northern gale,

summer tresses of the trees are gone, voods of autumn, all around our vale, Have put their glory on.

The mountains that infold,

eir wide sweep, the colored landscape round, groups of giant kings in purple and gold, That guard the enchanted ground.

I roam the woods that crown

upland, where the mingled splendors glow,— -e the gay company of trees look down On the green fields below.

My steps are not alone

ese bright walks; the sweet south-west, at play, rustling, where the painted leaves are strown Along the winding way.

And far in heaven, the while,

sun, that sends that gale to wander here, s out on the fair earth his quiet smile,The sweetest of the year.

Where now the solemn shade,

Verdure and gloom where many branches meet,—
So grateful, when the noon of summer made
The valleys sick with heat?

Let in through all the trees Come the strange rays; the forest depths are bright Their sunny-colored foliage, in the breeze,

Twinkles, like beams of light.

The rivulet, late unseen,

Where, bickering through the shrubs, its waters run,
Shines with the image of its golden screen,
And glimmerings of the sun.

Beneath yon crimson tree,

Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame,
Nor mark, within its roseate canopy,

Her blush of maiden shame.

O Autumn, why so soon

Depart the hues that make thy forests glad,-
Thy gentle wind and thy fair sunny noon,
And leave thee wild and sad?

Ah! 'twere a lot too blest

Forever in thy colored shades to stray,
Amidst the kisses of the soft south-west
To rove and dream for aye;

And leave the vain, low strife

That makes men mad-the tug for wealth and power The passions and the cares that wither life,

And waste its little hour.

LESSON XIX.

Instability of Character.-ALISON.

EVER we turn our eyes upon the world, we meet , who seem never to have formed to themselves any n, either of intellectual or moral pursuit, and who mselves to be led by no other principles than those tutional humor or casual caprice. Even with exowers of understanding, they are ever changing Hies and their designs; attracted by what is new in ge, rather than by what is useful, and seemingly ous of any other ends of science or of learning, muse the passing hour. They are, still more freinconstant and unstable in their affections; perpetanging their connexions, their companions and their ps, and violating often the finest, as well as the most es of life, less from violence of passion, than from vity and fickleness of mind. Their time, their taleir advantages, whether of power or of wealth, are all d rather than employed; and life, at last, often pon them, before they are conscious either for what iven, or what will be required. necessities of nature, whatever the idle and the quertay think, are ever friendly to human character, and unavoidably produce some degree of steadiness of , and energy of pursuit. They, whose labor is, ay, to provide for the day that is passing, have an rom which they are not permitted to deviate, which is their powers into continual activity, and which ly gives to their general character the same features liness and of energy. Even in the middle conditions among those who, in the various professions and ocns which cultivated society creates, are providing for ves and for their families, this character of instability m found. The virtuous and important purpose they view, the habits of foresight and activity which are led, the rivalship with their fellow candidates for r for praise,—all tend to form them to some strength

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