piety in the life and religious experience of the lamented Henry Martyn. It is delightful to behold, in the history of that extraordinary man, talents which attracted the admiration of one of the most celebrated seats of learning, consecrated to the honor of the cross; an enterprising genius, in the ardor of youth, relinquishing the pursuit of science and fame, in order to travel in the steps of a Brainerd and a Schwartz. Crowned with the highest honors a university could bestow, we see him quit the luxurious shades of academic bowers, for a tempestuous ocean and a burning clime,—for a life of peril and fatigue, from which he could expect no other reward than the heroic pleasure of communicating to perishing millions the word of eternal life. He appears to have formed his religious character chiefly on the model of Brainerd, and as he equalled him in his patience, fortitude, humility and love, so he strictly resembled him in his end. Both, nearly at the same age, fell victims to a series of intolerable privations and fatigues, voluntarily incurred in the course of their exertions for the propagation of the faith of Jesus. And, though their death was not a violent one, the sacrifices they made and the sufferings they endured entitle them to the honors and rewards of a protracted martyrdom. Their memory will be cherished by the veneration of all succeeding ages; and he who reads their lives will be ready to exclaim, "Here is the faith and patience of the saints." LESSON L. Winter and Summer.-SHELLEY. It was a winter, such as when birds do die A wrinkled clod as hard as brick; and when, It was a bright and cheerful afternoon, All things rejoiced beneath the sun; the weeds, LESSON LI. Close of Life.-ANONYMOUS. WE watched her breathing through the night Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro. So silently we seemed to speak, So slowly moved about, As we had lent her half our powers Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied; We thought her dying when she slept, For when the morn came dim and sad, LESSON LII. The Mermaid's Song. HANNAH F. GOULD. COME, mariner, down in the deep with me, For I have a bed of coral for thee, On a pillow of pearl thine eye shall sleep, The fishes their silent vigils shall keep-- And she who is waiting with cheek so pale, Come whitening up to the shore, She has not long to linger for thee; Her sorrows shall soon be o'er; For the chords shall be broke, and the prisoner free, இக LESSON LIII. Winter Evening in an Icelandic Family.-HENDERson. A WINTER evening in an Icelandic family presents a scene in the highest degree interesting and pleasing. Between three and four o'clock, the lamp is hung up in the principal apartment, which answers the double purpose of a bed-chamber and sitting-room, and all the members of the family take their station, with their work in their hands, on their respective beds, all of which face each other. The master and mistress, together with the children, or other relations, occupy the beds at the inner end of the room; the rest are filled by the servants. The work is no sooner begun, than one of the family, selected on purpose, advances to a seat near the lamp, and commences the evening lecture, which generally consists of some old saga, or such other histories as are to be obtained on the island. Being but badly supplied with printed books, the Icelanders are under the necessity of copying such as they can get the loan of, which sufficiently accounts for the fact, that most of them write a hand equal in beauty to that of the ablest writing-masters in other parts of Europe. Some specimens of their Gothic writing are scarcely inferior to copperplate. The reader is frequently interrupted, either by the head, or some of the more intelligent members of the family, who make remarks on various parts of the story, and propose questions, with a view to exercise the ingenuity of the children and servants. In some houses, the sagas are repeated by such as have got them by heart; and instances are not uncommon of itinerating historians, who gain a livelihood during the winter, by staying at different farms till they have exhausted their stock of literary knowledge. It is greatly to be deplored, that a people so distinguished by their love of science, and possessing the most favorable opportunities of cultivating it, should be destitute of the means necessary for improving them to advantage. Instead of the sagas, some of the more pious substitute the historical books of Scripture; and as they always give the preference to poetry, most of these books have been translated into metre, chiefly with a view to this exercise. At the conclusion of the evening labors, which are frequently continued till near midnight, the family join in singing a psalm or two; after which, a chapter from some book of devotion is read, if the family be not in possession of a Bible, but where this sacred book exists, it is preferred to every other. A prayer is also read by the head of the family, and the exercise concludes with a psalm. Their morning devotions are conducted in a similar manner, at the lamp. When the Icelander awakes, he does not salute any person that may have slept in the room with him, but hastens to the door, and, lifting up his eyes towards heaven, adores Him who made the heavens and the earth, the Author and Preserver of his being, and the Source of every blessing. He then returns into the house, and salutes every one he meets with, "God grant you a good day!" LESSON LIV. The Deaf Man.-WORDSWORTH. ALMOST at the root Of that tall pine, the shadow of whose bare |