hip with other students, who, like himself, had listened to the preaching of Thomas Loe, a quaker of eminence.

In 1672 he married a lady of principles similar to his own, and fixed his residence at Rickmansworth, where he labored hard to disseminate the principles of his sect both by his preachings and his writings.

In 1682 he came out to America for the first time, and laid out the city of Philadelphia, where he invited settlers from all parts of England, and held out to them a greater degree of religious liberty under his consti tution than had ever before been enjoyed by any sect or people.

LXI.

NARRATION EXPANDED.*

Example.

At the battle of Philippi, Lucilius wishing to give his intiinate friend Brutus an opportunity to escape, pretended himself to be Brutus, and being led before Anthony, boldly avowed the artifice. Anthony, admiring his fidelity to his friend, informed him of the death of Brutus, and offered him his friendship. Lucilius accepted the offer, and continued his faithful friend.

Same story expanded.

At the battle of Philippi, when Brutus, after the route of his army, was in danger of falling into the hands of his enemies, his bosom friend Lucilius gave him an opportunity to escape, calling out, "I am Brutus! lead me to Anthony! Being conducted to Anthony, he spoke with great resolution: "I have employed this artifice," said he, “that Brutus might not fall alive into the hands of his enemies. The gods will never permit that fortune shall triumph so far over virtue. In spite of fortune, Brutus will always be found, dead or alive, in a situation worthy of his courage." Anthony, admiring the firmness of Lucilius, said to him, "you merit a greater recompense than it is in my power to bestow. I have been just now informed of the death of Brutus; and as your fidelity to him is now at an end, I beg earnestly to be received in his place; love me as you did him, I wish no more." Luciluis embraced the offer, engaged himself

*The plan in narrative writing is simply the statement of events in the order of their occurrence; and the expansion is the mention, with varying degrees of minuteness of their statement, of the different circumstances connected with these events, accompanied by incidental remarks and flections

to Anthony, and maintaining the same fidelity to him that he had done to Brutus, adhered to him when he was abandoned by all the world.

The same story still more expanded.

After the second battle of Philippi between Anthony and Octavius, twe of the Roman triumvirs, and Brutus, which proved fatal to the latter, and indeed, to the liberty of Rome, one Lucilius Lucinus, an intimate friend of Brutus, observing a body of Thracian horse taking no notice of any other in their pursuit, but making directly towards Brutus, resolved to stop them, and save the life of his general at the hazard of his own. Accordingly, without acquainting Brutus with his design, he halted till the Thracians came up and surrendered him; then he cried out, "I am Brutus!" and begging quarter, desired they would carry him to Anthony, pretending that he feared Octavius. The Thracians, overjoyed with their prey, and think. ing themselves happy, immediately detached some of their own body to acquaint Anthony with their good fortune; and, in the mean time, giving over the pursuit, returned to the field of battle with their prisoner. The report being spread in an instant, all over the army, that Brutus was taken, and that the Thracians were bringing him alive to Anthony, both soldiers and officers flocked together from all parts to see him. Some pitied his misfortunes, others accused him of a meanness unbecoming his former glory, for, suffering himself out of two much love of life, to be a prey to barbarians. As for Anthony, he was not a little concerned at this adven ture, being quite at a loss in what manner he should receive, and how he should treat his illustrious captive; but he was soon delivered from his uneasiness; for as the Thracians drew near, he knew the prisoner, who had passed himself upon the Thracians for Brutus, and now addressing the Triumvir with a generous confidence: "Be assured, Anthony," said he, "that no enemy either has or ever shall take Marcus Brutus alive; forbid it, ye Gods, that fortune should ever prevail so much above virtue! But let him be discovered, dead or alive, he will certainly be found in such a state as is worthy of him. As for me, I have delivered myself up to save him, and am now ready to suffer whatever torments you think proper to in flict upon me, without demanding or expecting any quarter." Anthony, wonderfully taken with the fidelity, virtue, and generosity of Lucilius, turned to the Thracians, now sensible of, and outraged at their disappoint ment, and addressed them thus: "I perceive, my fellow soldiers, that you are concerned, and full of resentment for having been thus imposed upon by Lucilius; but be assured, that you have met with a booty better than that you have sought for; you have been in search of an enemy, and you have brought me a friend. I was truly at a loss how I should have treated Brutus, if you had brought him to me alive; but of this I am sure, that it is better to have such a man as Lucilius our friend, than our enemy." Having thus spoken, he embraced Lucilius and commended him to the care of one of his friends.

The student may now expand the following story or narrative:

STORY OF MEGAN.

Megan was one of a tribe of Indians, who ranged the extensive wilds about the Falls of Niagara. He was possessed of such superior personal and mental qualities as are very seldom concentrated in the same person, generous and humane, as well as brave, he knew how to conquer a foe. and how to raise him when disarmed; and, winile he hastened to shed the blood of his enemies, he paused to drop the tes r of sympathy with afflicted

friends. By these shining qualifications he was endeared to those around Lim, and was looked upon as a future ornamers and champion of his tribe.

From the age in which he was able to bend a bow, he was ever em ployed, either in pursuit of game in the forest, or in showing his skill in the management of his canoe. His nation was now involved in a war, which opened to him a field of action, and afforded frequent opportunities to display his valor. In one of his excursions, he rescued from captivity a beautiful female of his nation, who had been taken some weeks before, and for whom he had conceived a passion, previously to her being taken

Their mutual attachment was not a little strengthened by this adven ture; she was conducted home in triumph, a day was appointed for the nuptial ceremonies, and Megan looked forward with fond expectation tc the happy days he should spend with his beloved Alcoris. But, alas! how often are the fairest hopes we can conceive, the most deceitful! A few days only had elapsed, since his return, when he yielded to a vice, that may be called a characteristic of these people; he drank too freely of spirit and lay down in his canoe, which was fastened to a rock on shore, and was soon lost in sleep. Impatient at his too long absence, Alcoris went in search of him, and what was her surprise and horror, as she drew near the place, to see his canoe loosened by a rival, who had made several fruitless attempts to gain her affection, and rapidly floating down the swift current towards the great falls! In vain did she cry out, in vain extend her arms towards the dearest object of her affection. He enjoyed a sweet tranquillity till roused to a sense of his danger by the noise of the cataract. Megan is now apprised of his fate. He looks back, recognizes Alcoris, and waving his cap-goes over the falls and is seen no more.*

The student may now reverse the process of expanding, and present an abridgement of the following narration.†

Many are the tales that have been repeated to us of the revolutionary struggles of our ancestors. Yet each little incident connected with those times of peril, though often listened to, becomes interesting to us, who are now enjoying the blessings of that priceless freedom for which our fathers bled.

"Proudly, O children of freedom,

The stars of your banner float high;
Bright is the halo of glory,

O'er the graves where your ancestors lie.
Cherished may every memorial be,

Of the brave ones who perished that ye might be free."

Such was the motto that my sister wrote, when I told her that, in my next composition, I should weave up a reminiscence of the Revolution, and

*This narrative is a genuine college exercise, presented some years agc at one of the colleges in this State.

†This narration is a school exercise, presented within a few weeks by one of the pupils, a young lady of about thirteen years of age, at the public school of which the author has the charge. It has been thought that models and specimens of this kind would be more useful than more finished writings; because they present to the student something within his reach. It will not be very difficult for him, after he has attained some ease in writing, adopt as his motto the principle, "Excelsior"

requested her to write a sentiment to grace the commencement; but, when she glanced at the simple incident I intended to relate, she thought the motto and the sketch were not very appropriate; but, as I insisted on its appropriateness to my brave Arthur's story; and, as I also had the slip of paper in my hand on which it was pencilled, (possession being nine points of the law,) I was allowed to retain it, or rather she was obliged to yield to my whim, and, accordingly, I transferred it in triumph to the top of the page on which I commence

A REVOLUTIONARY STORY.

Near the extremity of the beautiful peninsula on which Charlestown situated, stood a large old-fashioned house, in the year 1775, whose timeworn walls were partially concealed, in the warmer seasons, by luxuriant grape-vines, that, spreading over the latticed portico, ran across the small windows, and clambered along the gable roof. A group of horse-chestnut trees, and a hedge composed of the briery bushes of the barberry and blackberry, with here and there a sweetbrier, covered with its delicate pink blossoms, enclosed a yard overgrown with bright green grass, and which extended around the eastern and western sides of the mansion. Beneath the vine-covered windows on the west a small parterre of flowers bloomed, while beyond, a vegetable garden extended to where the bright waves of the river Charles rolled onward. The house was occupied by Mrs. Leslie, her two children, and a female domestic, Captain Leslie being with the American army, at the neighboring town of Cambridge, where it had been stationed for nearly two months, while the British troops lay shut up in Boston.

It was the beginning of June, and, as the afternoon of a beautiful day drew near its close, Mrs. Leslie laid aside the sewing materials that had absorbed her attention during the morning, and, stepping out upon the green turf, directed her steps towards a low wooden bench beneath a large apple-tree, where a young and sweet-looking girl was sitting. As her mother approached, Anna Leslie dropped her knitting work and held forth a few simple, but fragrant, flowers. A caress was the reward which the affectionate girl expected and received for her gift. As she threw a glance so expressive of love on her mother's face, it was sad for that mother to know, that she could not perceive the smile of affection in return; for her child's dark blue eyes were sightless, poor Anna Leslie was blind. Few persons would have thought, as they looked in the lovely child's face, as some strain of music, some loved and familiar tone, or some bright, happy thought awakened in her countenance a beautiful expression, which ac corded well with her symmetrical features, few persons would have thought that Anna had been born blind, that she never had viewed the charming scenes of nature, that her eye had never glanced over the pages of literature, or the works of art. But a mother's watchful tenderness and patient instruction had, during the twelve years of her life, somewhat sup plied the deficiency which her misfortune occasioned; and her brother Arthur, two years older than herself, had, with more than a brother's usual affection, cherished and protected his helpless sister. Unlike the interestng and unfortunate Laura Bridgeman, Anna could hear the loved voices of her friends and the sweet tones of her mother's harpsichord. She could give utterance, too, in a low, clear voice, to her thoughts and feelings, and, although she saw not her mother's smile, she heard the whispered words of love, and returned her affectionate greeting.

Drawing her daughter's arm within her own, Mrs. Leslie returned slowly towards the house. The blushing June roses were sending forth their rich odor from the large bushes, covered with flowers, that bordered the path, and Mrs. Leslie plucked an opening bud and placed it in her daughter's

hair. All around their little domain looked peacefully, but Anna echoed her mother's sigh, as the beating of the drum and other sounds of war came faintly from the hostile camps and awakened in their bosoms sorrowful thoughts of the situation of their country, and the welfare of the husband and father, whose life was so precious, yet in such peril. As they silently approached the house, Anna felt conscious that her mother was becoming absorbed in melancholy reverie, and, to divert her attention, proposed to meet Arthur. Mrs. Leslie consented, and they passed through the flower beds and proceeded to the lower parts of the grounds, where Arthur em ployed himself in cultivating the vegetable garden; for it was impossible to procure a man in the town for that purpose, all who were able having joined the army of their country. But Arthur, with the occasional assistance of Rachel, their faithful black servant, had managed to raise quite a respectable stock of vegetables, not only for his own family, but he sometimes found means to carry a portion to supply his father's table at the camp. Arthur, who had just completed his work and refreshed himself by a bath in the river, as his mother and sister appeared in sight, hastened to join them, and to communicate an account of an extensive depredation commit ted the preceding night in his garden. Naturally impetuous in his temper, Arthur now complained bitterly, and vowed vengeance on the British thief, as he persisted in calling him, for he had traced the footsteps over his delicate lettuce beds and young peas, till they terminated on the verge of the river. As his boyish imagination magnified his wrongs, Arthur's dark eye sparkled, his cheek flushed, and his red lip curled with scorn, and not till the sweet voice of his sister had communicated in a whisper a plan for watching that night, and at least ascertaining who the thief was, did his brow become unclouded, just as they entered their quiet, low-ceiled sittingroom. A very pleasant room it was, though old fashioned. Its deep window seats were nicely cushioned, its clumsy-looking mahogany tables, with dark, time-colored surfaces, highly polished, the carved boxes and stands that came from Calcutta, its fireplace, surrounded by small Dutch tiles, the antique-looking portraits, that came over in the Mayflower, it was said, and the painted screens placed around, made the apartment a favorite with Ar thur and Anna. The bright flowers in the old China vases, and the white drapery of the table, now spread with their simple evening repast, enlivened the somewhat sombre aspect of the room, for the sun had just sunk below the horizon and the vines hung thickly over the windows; but Rachel pushed them aside and commenced swaying her fly-brush, as Mrs. Leslie seated herself at the table. Rachel was somewhat a privileged being in the family, as she was a faithful and trusty domestic, and she often enlivened the children at meal times by her quaint expressions and anecdotes of the olden time. This evening she began to lament, as she glanced ruefully at the plain bread, fresh strawberries, and bright water from their own cool and shaded well, that her lady could no longer preside, as formerly, over the splendid silver plate and beautiful China tea-set, that once adorned the table, covered with the delicacies of the season. But now what was the use of the plainest oups and saucers without tea, and even the strawberries must be eaten without cream, for the British foragers had stolen their last

Arthur, who had been absorbed in his own thoughts, now joined in the conversation, for he generally felt interested when any thing was said respocting the injuries inflicted by the foes of his country; and, long after Mrs. Leslie had retired from the room, did the eager boy continue to listen to Rachel's tales, and even Anna at last left them, and passing out of the glass door into the large hall, for she was perfectly acquainted with every nook in her childhood's home, and could find her way without difficulty through every room of the house, she ascended the broad staircase with large wooden balustrades. at the head of the hall, and entered her own