lows; drums beat the alarm; torches light up the troops arrayed for battle. (3) The charging of squadrons, and the flashing and thundering of artillery. (4) Morning; but the sun is lurid as seen through the smoke rising from the field. (5) Munich (the Bavarians were allies of the French in this battle) troops are distinguished in the fierce charges. (6) On the hills of bloodstained snow lie seven thousand Austrian and five thousand French soldiers, dead or wounded.

LXXIX. OVER THE RIVER.

1. Over the river they beckon to me,

Loved ones who've crossed to the farther side;
The gleam of their snowy robes I see,

But their voices are lost in the dashing tide.
There's one, with ringlets of sunny gold,

And eyes the reflection of heaven's own blue;
He crossed in the twilight gray and cold,

And the pale mist hid him from mortal view.
We saw not the angels who met him there;
The gates of the city we could not see:
Over the river, over the river,

My brother stands waiting to welcome me.

2. Over the river the boatman pale

Carried another, the household pet;

Her brown curls waved in the gentle gale—
Darling Minnie! I see her yet.

She crossed on her bosom her dimpled hands,
And fearlessly entered the phantom bark;
We felt it glide from the silver sands,

And all our sunshine grew strangely dark.
We know she is safe on the farther side,
Where all the ransomed and angels be:
Over the river, the mystic river,

My childhood's idol is waiting for me.

3. For none return from those quiet shores,
Who cross with the boatman cold and pale;
We hear the dip of the golden oars,

And catch a gleam of the snowy sail,

And lo! they have passed from our yearning heart;
They cross the stream and are gone for aye.
We may not sunder the veil apart

That hides from our vision the gates of day;
We only know that their barks no more
May sail with us o'er life's stormy sea;
Yet somewhere, I know, on the unseen shore,
They watch, and beckon, and wait for me.

4. And I sit and think, when the sunset's gold
Is flushing river, and hill, and shore,
I shall one day stand by the water cold,

And list for the sound of the boatman's oar;
I shall watch for a gleam of the flapping sail,
I shall hear the boat as it gains the strand;
I shall pass from sight with the boatman pale,
To the better shore of the spirit land;
I shall know the loved who have gone before,
And joyfully sweet will the meeting be,
When over the river, the peaceful river,
The angel of death shall carry me.

Nancy Priest Wakefield.

FOR PREPARATION.-I. The authoress lived on the banks of the Connecticut River. Do you think there may be something in this fact that suggested the imagery of the piece (see fourth stanza), or was it, rather, the allegory in the "Pilgrim's Progress"?

II. Běe'-kon (běk'kn), re-flĕe'-tion (-shun), view (vū), ring'-lets, wěl'-eome, boat'-man, veil.

III. Why is ha omitted in who've ?-i in there's? Difference in meaning caused by adding let to ring?

IV. Gleam, phantom, ransomed, mystic, dimpled, "childhood's idol."

V. Is the metaphor, "their barks no more may sail with us o'er life's stormy sea" (3), in keeping with the fundamental metaphor of the poem, in which we stand on the bank of a river? (If they had had barks of their own, and were used to the terrors of the "stormy sea," a mere river would scarcely be the gulf of separation that it is. This is called "mixed metaphor.")

LXXX. A LETTER OF DR. FRANKLIN.

EASTON, PA., Saturday Morning, November 13, 1756.

MY DEAR CHILD:

I wrote to you a few days since by a special messenger, and inclosed letters for all our wives and sweethearts: expecting to hear from you by his return, and to have the Northern newspapers and English letters, per the packet; but he is just now returned, without a scrap for poor us. So I had a good mind not to write you by this opportunity; but I can never be ill-natured enough, even when there is the most occasion. The messenger says he left the letters at your house, and saw you afterward at Mr. Dentic's, and told you when he would go, and that he lodged at Honey's, next door to you, and yet you did not write; so let Goody Smith give one more just judgment, and say what should be done to you. I think I won't tell you that we are well, nor that we expect to return about the middle of the week, nor will send you a word of news; that's poz. My duty to mother, love to the children and to Miss Betsey and Gracey, etc., etc. I am your loving husband,

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.

P. S.-I have scratched out the loving words, being written in haste by mistake, when I forgot I was angry.

FOR PREPARATION.-I. A letter of Dr. Franklin to his wife (he married Deborah Read).

II. Spě'-cial (spěsh'al), judg'-ment, done, scratched.

III. In the above letter, point out what is called the date. What items does it include? (Name of post office, town, or city, and state [and, if the place is small, the county], day of month, and year.) Point out the address; -the subscription. Where should the superscription be? (On the envelope of the letter, thus:

MRS. DEBORAH FRANKLIN,

What does "P. S." mean?

Philadelphia, Pa.)

IV. Inclosed, return, packet, scrap, opportunity, occasion, lodged. V. Notice the humor of the style. (He pretends to be angry, and to forget that he is angry; then to remember it, and scratch out the loving words; calls himself "we," and "poor us"; calls his wife "all our wives and sweethearts"; playfully says that he won't tell her that he is well, etc., and tells it all.) "That's poz" (positively so). Write a letter to some friend, and give an account of your visit to the country, or of some other event that you may select, taking care to have the date, address, subscription, and superscription right.

LXXXI. LITTLE HAL.

EXAMPLE FOR VARIED AND IMPASSIONED EXPRESSION.

"Old Ironsides' at anchor' lay,

In the harbor of Mahon';

A dead c-a-l-m' rested on the bay-
The w-a-v-e-s to s-l-e-e-p' had gone-
When little Hal', the captain's' son,
A lad both b-r-a-v-e and g-o-o-d,
In sport up shroud and rigging ran,
And on the m-a-i-n' truck stood!

1

"A shudder shot through every vein';

All eyes were turned on high';
There stood the boy, with dizzy' brain,
Between the s-e-a' and s-k-y`.

No h-o-l-d' had he above', below;
A-l-o-n-e he stood in air':

To that f-a-r height none d-a-r-e-d' to go-
No a-i-d' could r-e-a-c-h` him there.”

[The word "shudder" is very abrupt in emphasis; it expresses sudden pain and fear. The first syllable is short, and time can not be given to it. Sound sharply the 'sh," with a little prolongation, to aspirate it, and bring out thus the shock and terror.]

"We g-a-z-e-d, but not a man could speak'!
With horror' a-l-l aghast,

In groups, with pallid brow and cheek,

[Half whisper the word "horror," to suit the quality of voice to the spirit-on the general principle that all painful, disagreeable ideas demand the disagreeable aspiration; all pure and pleasing ideas require a clear, pure tone, to suit the sound to the sense.]

"The f-a-ther came on deck. He gasped,
'O God! t-h-y' will be done!'
Then suddenly a rifle' grasped,

And aimed it at his son':

'Jump-f-a-r-out, boy, into the wave!

Jump', or I f-i-r-e'!' he said;

'That o-n-l-y chance your l-i-f-e' can s-a-v-e'!

"He sank-he r-o-s-e-he lived-he m-o-v-e-d`,

And for the ship' struck out: