The latter years of the poet's life were spent quietly at Mount Rydal, varied occasionally with a short run to the continent or a brief visit to Scotland. In 1839, the University of Oxford bestowed an academic degree upon him, in recognition of his genius. Three years later Sir Robert Peel recommended him for a royal grant of three hundred pounds a year; and in 1843, he succeeded his friend Southey as poet-laureate.

His course was now nearly run. On Sunday, 10th March, 1850, he attended divine service in Rydal Chapel for the last time. The following Tuesday he complained of a pain in his side, and retired to rest. Friends who heard of his illness anxiously inquired about him; he was rapidly growing weaker. Sunday, April 7th, was the eightieth anniversary of his birth, and in Rydal Church prayers were offered that he might yet be longer spared. But it was not to be. Gradually he sank, lower and lower, and at last, on the 23rd of April, he peacefully fell asleep. The simple, unaffected piety of his life remained the same till his death. He died in the faith in which he had lived and worked-the faith in a Redeemer's love, and ever-present companionship of God.

From 2" Well-spent Lives."

Prejudice, adverse opinion formed without proper grounds or sufficient knowledge. 2 Well-spent Lives, by Herbert Edmonds. The above lesson is a portion of the life of Wordsworth. This book commends itself to all educated people, and may well be classed among the gems of literature.

NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.

mys-te'-ri-ous

pro-gen'-i-tors

in-quis'-i-tive

Not many generations ago, where you now sit encircled with all that exalts and embellishes civilized life, the

1rank thistle nodded in the wind, and the wild fox dug his hole unscared. Here lived and loved another race of beings. Beneath the same sun that rolls over your head, the Indian hunter pursued the panting deer; gazing on the same moon that smiles for you, the Indian lover wooed his dusky mate. Here the wigwam blaze beamed on the tender and helpless, and the council-fire glared on the wise and daring. Now they dipped their noble limbs in your sedgy lakes, and now they paddled the light canoe along your rocky shores. Here they warred; the echoing whoop, the bloody grapple, the defying death-song, all were here; and when the tiger-strife was over, here curled the smoke of peace.

Here, too, the Indians worshipped; and from many a dark bosom went up a fervent prayer to the Great Spirit. He had not written his laws for them on tables of stone, but he had traced them on the tables of their hearts.

The

poor child of nature knew not the God of revelation, but the God of the universe he acknowledged in everything around. He beheld him in the star that sank in beauty behind his lonely dwelling; in the sacred orb that flamed on him from his midday throne; in the flower that snapped in the morning breeze; in the lofty pine that defied a thousand whirlwinds; in the timid warbler that never left its native grove; in the fearless eagle, whose untired 2pinion was wet in clouds; in the worm that crawled at his feet; and in his own matchless form, glowing with a spark of that light, to whose mysterious source he bent in humble, though blind adoration.

And all this has passed away. Across the ocean came a pilgrim bark, bearing the seeds of life and death. The former were sown for you; the latter sprang up in the path of the simple native Two hundred years have changed the character of a great continent, and blotted

for ever from its face a whole peculiar people. Art has usurped the bowers of nature, and the anointed children of education have been too powerful for the tribes of the ignorant. Here and there a stricken few remain ; but how unlike their bold, untamable 3progenitors! The Indian of falcon glance and lion bearing, the theme of the touching

ballad, the hero of the pathetic tale, is gone! and his degraded offspring crawls upon the soil where he walked in majesty, to remind us how miserable is man, when the foot of the conqueror is on his neck.

As a race, they have withered from the land. Their arrows are broken, their springs are dried up, their cabins are in the dust. Their council-fire has long since gone out on the shore, and their war-cry is fast fading in the un

trodden west. Slowly and sadly they climb the distant mountains, and read their doom in the setting sun. They are shrinking before the mighty tide which is pressing them away; they must soon hear the roar of the last wave, which will settle over them for ever. Ages hence, the inquisitive white man, as he stands by some growing city, will ponder on the structure of their disturbed remains, and wonder to what manner of persons they belonged. They will live only in the songs and chronicles of their 5exterminators. Let these be faithful to their rude virtues, as men, and pay due tribute to their unhappy fate, as a people. 6 SPRAGUE.

1

rank, strong, coarse. 2pinion, wing. 3 progenitors, ancestors, forefathers. pathetic, moving, affecting. exterminators, destroyers. Sprague, Charles Sprague, an American poet.

6

My hour had come, and I entered the car.

With a singu

lar taste, the band struck up, at this moment, the melting air of "Sweet Home." It almost overcame me. A thousand associations of youth, of friends, of all that I must leave, rushed upon my mind. But I had no leisure for sentiment. A buzz ran through the assemblage; unnumbered hands were clapping, unnumbered hearts beating high; and I was the cause. Every eye was upon me. There was pride in the thought.

"Let go!" was the word. The cheers redoubled: handkerchiefs waved from many a fair hand; bright faces beamed from every window, and on every side. One dash with my knife, and I rose aloft, a habitant of air. How

magnificent was the sight which now burst upon me How sublime were my sensations! I waved the flag of my country; the cheers of the multitude from a thousand

housetops reached me on the breeze; and a taste of the rarer atmosphere elevated my spirits into ecstacy.

The city, with a brilliant sunshine striking the spires and domes, now unfolded to view a sight incomparably beautiful. My gondola went easily upward, cleaving the depths of heaven like a vital thing. A 'diagram placed