to continue. their way. God is in his universe and guides the nations in 9. We will hold to our goodly trust; and, in the strength of that earnest trust, we will firmly believe that he has rich blessings yet in store for Ireland. Where often we can see nothing but evil, our gracious Father is preparing good; and we so believe it now, for sad, afflicted, mourning Ireland. O land of my heart, of my fathers, and my birth! I will ever keep it in my thoughts that God is looking down upon you with pity and with grace, and that he will call you up more brightly from your calamity. The times, indeed, seem bail; but suffering will leave its blessings. 10. Plenty will come again'; and humility', and gratitude', and mercy', and penitent and softened hearts', will come along with it. Peace will be established'; confidence will come with peace'; capital will follow confidence'; employment will increase with capital'; education will be desired'; knowledge will be diffused', and virtue will grow with knowledge'. Yet, even if these things should not soon be, if all that is now anticipated should long be "hope deferred," and many a heart should sicken in waiting for relief,—yet I will not despond: I will not despond for Ireland; I will not despond for humanity; I will entertain no doubt in the Agency which guides the world, and no mistrust in the destiny whereunto the world moves. LESSON LX. THE SONG OF THE SHIRT. BY THOMAS HOOD. THOMAS HOOD, a distinguished poet and essayist, was born in London in 1798, and died in 1845. 1. WITH fingers weary and worn', 2. In poverty', hunger', and dirt'; And still, with a voice of dolorous pitch, "Work! work'! work'! While the cock is crowing aloof! And work! work! work! Till the stars shine through the roof! 3. 4. 5. 6. 7 It's oh! to be a slave Along with the barbarous Turk, "Work! work! work! Till the eyes are heavy and dim! "O men', with sisters dear! In poverty', hunger', and dirt'; "But why do I talk of Death,— I hardly fear his terrible shape, Because of the fasts I keep`; Oh, God! that bread should be so dear, "Work! work! work! My labor never flags; And what are its wages? A bed of straw', That shatter'd roof', and this naked floor'; And a wall so blank', my shadow I thank "Work! work! work! Work! work! work! As prisoners work for crime ! 8. Band, and gusset, and seam, Seam, and gusset, and band, Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumb'd, "Work! work! work! In the dull December light, And work! work! work! When the weather is warm and bright; The brooding swallows cling, 9. "Oh! but to breathe the breath Of the cowslip and primrose sweet, To feel as I used to feel, Before I knew the woes of want, And the walk that costs a meal! 10 "Oh! but for one short hour! No blessed leisure for love or hope, A little weeping would ease my heart; My tears must stop, for every drop 11. With fingers weary and worn, In poverty, hunger, and dirt, LESSON LXI. THE VULTURE AND THE CAPTIVE INFANT. ANONYMOUS. 1. I've been among the mighty Alps, and wander'd through their vales, And heard the honest mountaineers relate their dismal tales, o'er, They spake of those who disappear'd, and ne'er were heard of more. 2. And there I, from a shepherd, heard a narrative of fear,- 3. "It is among these barren cliffs the ravenous vulture dwells, 4. "One cloudless Sabbath summer morn,, the sun was rising high, When from my children on the green I heard a fearful cry; As if some awful deed were done,-a shriek of grief and pain, A cry I humbly trust in God I ne'er may hear again. 5. "I hurried out to learn the cause, but, overwhelm'd with fright, The children never ceased to shriek; and from my frenzied sight I miss'd the youngest of my babes, the darling of my care: But something caught my searching eyes, slow sailing through the air. 6. "Oh, what an awful spectacle to meet a father's eye! 7. "My infant stretch'd his little hands imploringly to me, And struggled with the ravenous bird, all vainly, to get free! At intervals I heard his cries, as loud he shriek'd and scream'd! Until upon the azure sky a lessening spot he seem'd. 8. "The vulture flapp'd his sail-like wings, though heavily he flew ; A mote upon the sun's bright face he seem'd unto my view. But once I thought I saw him stoop, as if he would alight: 'Twas only a delusive thought, for all had vanish'd quite. 9. "All search was vain, and years had pass'd :—that child was ne'er forgot; When once a daring hunter climb'd unto a lofty spot; From thence, upon a rugged crag the chamois never reach'd, LESSON LXII. MANNERS IN NEW YORK IN EARLY TIMES. BY WASHINGTON IRVING. 1. THE houses of the higher class were generally constructed of wood, excepting the gable end, which was of small-black-and yellow Dutch bricks, and always faced on the street; as our ancestors, like their descendants, were very much given to outward show, and were noted for putting the best foot foremost. The house was always furnished with abundance of large doors and small windows on every floor; the date of its erection was curiously designated by iron figures on the front; and on the top of the roof was perched a fierce little weathercock, to let the family into the important secret which way the wind blew. 2. These pointed so many different ways that every man could have a wind to his mind; and you would have thought old Æolus |