LESSON LIV. Weep not for the Dead.-B. B. THATCHER. OH, lightly, lightly tread Upon these early ashes, ye that weep For her that slumbers in the dreamless sleep, Hallow her humble tomb With your kind sorrow, ye that knew her well, And climbed with her youth's brief but brilliant dell, 'Mid sunlight and fair bloom. Glad voices whispered round, As from the stars, bewildering harmonies, With hopes like blossoms shone: Oh, vainly these shall glow, and vainly wreathe Yet weep not for the dead That in the glory of green youth do fall, Weep not! They are at rest Nor evermore shall come To them the breath of envy, nor the rankling eye, Shall follow them, where side by side they lie Defenceless, noiseless, dumb. Ay-though their memory 's green, In the fond heart, where love for them was born, With sorrow's silent dews, each eve, each morn, Be freshly kept, unseen Yet, weep not! They shall soar As the freed eagle of the skies, that pined, Rejoice! rejoice! How long Should the faint spirit wrestle with its clay, It mounts! It mounts! Oh, spread For the enfranchised-and bright garlands bringBut weep not for the dead!" NIGHT is the time for rest; How sweet, when labors close, Stretch the tired limbs and lay the head Upon our own delightful bed! Night is the time for dreams, The gay romance of life; When truth that is, and truth that seems, Blend in fantastic strife; Ah! visions less beguiling far, Than waking dreams by daylight are! Night is the time for toil; To plough the classic field, Night is the time to weep; Those graves of memory, where sleep Hopes that were angels in their birth, Night is the time to watch; Ön ocean's dark expanse, To hail the Pleiades, or catch The full moon's earliest glance, That brings unto the homesick mind All we have loved and left behind. Night is the time for care; Like Brutus midst his slumbering host Night is the time to muse; Then from the eye the soul Takes flight, and with expanding views Descries, athwart the abyss of night, Night is the time to pray; Our Savior oft withdrew So will his followers do; Steal from the throng to haunts untrod, Night is the time for death; When all around is peace, Calmly to yield the weary breath, Think of Heaven's bliss, and give the sign, 11 LESSON LVI. Escape from a Panther.-COOPER. ELIZABETH TEMPLE and LOUISA had gained the summit of the mountain, where they left the highway, and pursued their course, under the shade of the stately trees that crowned the eminence. The day was becoming warm; and the girls plunged more deeply into the forest, as they found its invigorating coolness agreeably contrasted to the excessive heat they had experienced in their ascent. The conversation, as if by mutual consent, was entirely changed to the little incidents and scenes of their walk; and every tall pine, and every shrub or flower, called forth some simple expression of admiration. In this manner they proceeded along the margin of the precipice, catching occasional glimpses of the placid Otsego, or pausing to listen to the rattling of wheels and the sounds of hammers, that rose from the valley, to mingle the signs of men with the scenes of nature, when Elizabeth suddenly startled, and exclaimed-' Listen! there are the cries of a child on this mountain! Is there a clearing near us? or can some little one have strayed from its parents?' 'Such things frequently happen,' returned Louisa. 'Let us follow the sounds; it may be a wanderer, starving on the hill.' Urged by this consideration, the females pursued the low, mournful sounds, that proceeded from the forest, with quick and impatient steps. More than once the ardent Elizabeth was on the point of announcing that she saw the sufferer, when Louisa caught her by the arm, and, pointing behind them, cried—‘Look at the dog!' The advanced age of Brave had long before deprived him of his activity; and when his companions stopped to view the scenery, or to add to their bouquets, the mastiff would lay his huge frame on the ground, and await their movements, with his eyes closed, and a listlessness in his air that ill accorded with the character of a protector. But when, aroused by this cry from Louisa, Miss Temple turned, she saw the dog with his eyes keenly set on some distant object, his head bent near the ground, and his hair actually rising on his body, either through fright or anger. It was most probably the latter; for he was growling in a low key, and occasionally showing his teeth, in a manner that would have terrified his mistress, had she not so well known his good qualities. 'Brave!' she said, 'be quiet, Brave! what do you see, fellow?' At the sound of her voice, the rage of the mastiff, instead of being at all diminished, was very sensibly increased. He stalked in front of the ladies, and seated himself at the feet of his mistress, growling louder than before, and occasionally giving vent to his ire by a short, surly barking. 'What does he see?' said Elizabeth; there must be some animal in sight.' Hearing no answer from her companion, Miss Temple turned her head, and beheld Louisa, standing with her face whitened to the color of death, and her finger pointing upward, with a sort of flickering, convulsed motion. The quick eye of Elizabeth glanced in the direction indicated by her friend, where she saw the fierce front and glaring eyes of a female panther, fixed on them in horrid malignity, and threatening instant destruction. 'Let us fly!' exclaimed Elizabeth, grasping the arm of Louisa, whose form yielded like melting snow, and sunk lifeless to the earth. There was not a single feeling in the temperament of Elizabeth Temple, that could prompt her to desert a companion in such an extremity; and she fell on her knees, by the side of the inanimate Louisa, tearing from the person of her friend, with an instinctive readiness, such parts of her dress as might obstruct her respiration, and encouraging their only safe-guard, the dog, at the same time, by the sound of her voice. Courage, Brave!' she cried-her own tones beginning to tremble-courage, courage, good Brave!' A quarter-grown cub, that had hitherto been unseen, now appeared, dropping from the branches of a sapling, that grew under the shade of the beech which held its dam. This ignorant but vicious creature approached near to the dog, imitating the actions and sounds of its parent, but exhibiting a strange mixture of the playfulness of a kitten with the ferocity of its race. Standing on its hind legs, it would rend the bark of a tree with its fore paws, and play all the antics of a cat, for a moment; and then, by lashing itself with its tail, growling, and scratching the earth, it would attempt the manifestations of anger that rendered its parent so terrific. All this time, Brave stood firm and undaunted, his short |