LESSON IX.

Infantine Inquiries.-MRS. NORTON.

TELL me, O mother! when I grow old,
Will my hair, which my sisters say is like gold,
Grow gray as the old man's, weak and poor,
Who asked for alms at our pillared door?
Shall I look as sad, and speak as slow,
As he, when he told us his tale of wo?
Will my hands then shake, and my eyes be dim?
Tell me! O mother! shall I grow like him?

He said-but I knew not what he meant-
That his aged heart with sorrow was rent:
He spoke of the grave as a place of rest,
Where the weary sleep in peace, and are blest;
And he told how his kindred there were laid,

And the friends with whom in his youth he had played;
And the tears from the eyes of the old man fell,
And my sisters wept as they heard his tale!

He spake of a home, where, in childhood's glee,
He chased from the wild flowers the singing bee;
And followed afar, with a heart as light

As its sparkling wings, the butterfly's flight;

And pulled young flowers where they grew 'neath the beams
Of the sun's fair light, by his own blue streams;

Yet he left all these, through the earth to roam ;
Why, O mother! did he leave his home?

Calm thy young thoughts, my own fair child;
The fancies of youth in age are beguiled ;-

Though pale grow thy cheeks, and thy hair turn gray,
Time cannot steal the soul's youth away!

There's a land, of which you have heard me speak,
Where age never wrinkles the dweller's cheek;
But in joy they live, fair boy, like thee-

It was there the old man longed to be!

For he knew that those with whom he had played,
In his heart's young joy, 'neath the cottage shade,

1

Whose love he shared, when their songs and mirth
Brightened the gloom of this sinful earth,
Whose names from the world hath passed away,
As flowers from the breath of an autumn day-
He knew that they, with all suffering done,
Encircled the throne of the Holy One!

Though ours be a pillared and lofty home,
Where Want with his pale train never may come,
Oh! scorn not the poor, with the scorner's jest,
Who seek in the shade of our hall to rest;
For He who made them poor, may soon

Darken the sky of our glowing noon,

And leave us with wo, in the world's bleak wild;—
Oh! soften the griefs of the poor, my

child!

LESSON X.

Pocahontas.-Thatcher.

THIS beautiful and amiable woman, whom John Smith, in the excess of his admiration, styles "the Numpariel of Virginia," has been distinguished in modern times, chiefly, by that single, extraordinary act of courage and humanity, to which the gallant historian was indebted for the preservation of his life. But this was by no means the only evidence of these noble qualities which history has preserved.

In the earliest and most gloomy days of the settlement, immediately after Smith's return from his captivity, the liberal and thoughtful kindness of Pocahontas went very far to cheer the desponding hearts of the colonists, as well as to relieve their actual necessities. She came into Jamestown, with her attendants, once in every four or five days, for a long time, and brought with her supplies of provisions, by which many lives are stated to have been saved.

On one occasion, when Smith quartered over night near the residence of her father, "Pocahontas," says the historian, "in that dark night, came through the irksome woods, and told our captain great cheer should be sent us by and by; but Powhatan and all the power he could make, would after come and kill us all, if they that brought it could not

kill us with our own weapons, when we were at supper. Therefore, if we would live, she wished us presently to be gone.

"Such things as she delighted in, he would have given her, but, with the tears running down her cheeks, she said she durst not be seen to have any, for if Powhatan should know, she were but dead, and so she ran away by herself, as she came."

She was soon afterwards married to Rolfe. In the course of a year or two, the young bride became quite an adept in the English language and manners, and was well instructed in the doctrines of Christianity. She was entitled by her new acquaintances, the lady Rebecca.

In 1616, she and her husband accompanied sir Thomas Dale to England. Pocahontas was received at court by the king and queen with the most flattering marks of attention. The princess was gratified by the kindness shown her; and those who entertained her, on the other hand, were unanimously of opinion, as Smith expresses himself, "that they had seen many English ladies worse favored, proportioned and behaviored."

It is the last and saddest office of history to record the death of this incomparable woman, in about the two-andtwentieth year of her age. This event took place at Gravesend, where she was preparing to embark for Virginia, with her husband and child. They were to have gone out with captain Argall, who sailed early in 1617; and the treasurer and council of the colony had made suitable accommodations for them on board the admiral-ship. But, in the language of Smith, it pleased God to take this young lady to his mercy. He adds, that she made not more sorrow for her unexpected death, than joy to the beholders, to hear and see her make so religious and godly an end.

Stith also records that she died as she had lived—a most sincere and pious Christian. The expression of a later historian is, that her death was a happy mixture of Indian fortitude and Christian submission, affecting all those who saw her by the lively and edifying picture of piety and virtue which marked her latter moments.

Young Rolfe, her only child, was left at Plymouth, England, at first under the care of sir Lewis Steukley, and afterwards of his uncle, Henry Rolfe, of London. He became a man of eminence and fortune in Virginia. From

him are descended some of the most respectable families in that state.

LESSON XI.

Felix Neff with his Laborers on the High Alps.-GILLY.

ONE of the principal resources of the valley of Fressinière is the breeding and pasturage of cattle. But the winter is so long, and the tracts of land capable of producing fodder are so scanty, that every blade of grass that can be raised, and made into hay, is a very treasure. A dry summer often left them unprovided with hay, and compelled the poor creatures to part with their stock at an inadequate price. Neff's eye perceived that a direction might be given to the streams in one part, which would improve the ground in another, and furnish the proprietors with constant means of keeping the grass fresh and moist. But he found the utmost difficulty in explaining the simplest principles of hydraulics, and in persuading his ignorant listeners that the water might be made to rise and fall, and dammed up and distributed, accordingly as it might be required for use. The imaginary expense stared them in the face like certain ruin; and the labor appalled them, as being perfectly insuperable.

When their pastor first advised them to construct the canals necessary for the purpose, they absolutely refused to attempt it, and he was obliged to tell them that they were equally deaf to temporal and spiritual counsel.

Pointing to the rushing waters which were capable of being diverted from their course to the parched and sterile soil which he wished to see improved, he exclaimed, "You make as little use of those ample streams, as you do of the water of life: God has vouchsafed to offer you both in abundance; but your pastures, like your hearts, are languishing with drought!"

In the spring of 1825, there had been so little snow, that there was every appearance of the soil yielding even less than its usual scanty increase: its wonted supply of moisture had failed. Neff took advantage of the state of the season, and once more pressed them to adopt his mode of

irrigation.

the same.

But still the reluctance and the excuses were

If the canals and aqueducts were made, they would soon get out of order: if one proprietor adopted them, another would not the next neighbor would not permit them to cross his land, and one opponent of the measure might stop the whole proceeding: but if all should agree, and the work were to be brought to a happy conclusion, an avalanche, or a crumbling mass of granite, would soon crush or interrupt the constructions, and reduce them to their old condition.

In vain did the pastor endeavor to convince them of the weakness of these arguments, particularly of the last; they might as well refuse to plant and sow, or to build houses, for nothing was safe from avalanches. Finding that he could not prevail, when he addressed them in a body, he took them separately, and asked, "Will you consent if your neighbor will? Will you put your shoulder to the work if the occupiers of the next property will join you?"

They were ashamed to refuse when they were thus personally appealed to, and an unwilling acquiescence was thus gradually obtained. But then arose another more formidable objection-"Suppose the aqueducts are completed, and the water flows, will the distribution be equal? Will not my neighbor get more of the water than I shall? How do I know that he will not exhaust the supply, before my land has a drop."

Neff was too ready at expedients to be easily foiled. He proposed that there should be a committee and an arbiter, to determine what share of the public benefit each occupier should enjoy, and how long, and on what days, and at what hours, the stream should be permitted to pour its waters into the different sections and branches of its courses.

At length all preliminaries were settled, and the work was to be done. The line was marked out, and the proprietors consented that the main channel should cross and recross their lands, accordingly as it should be required. But again there was some demur. The people would only labor at that part of the construction which was to irrigate their own ground. "Be it so," said Neff; "only let us make a beginning." He saw that he could easily bring