DAYS OF MY YOUTH. There is no part of life so happy as youth; the following lines, written by a celebrated man now living in England, show with what regret he looks back to the pleasant days of his boyhood. Он! when I was a tiny boy, My days and nights were full of joy, My mates were blithe and kind! A hoop was an eternal round Of pleasure. In those days I found And careful thoughts the string! My marbles once my bag was stored With Theseus for a taw! My playful horse has slipp'd his string, And harness'd to the law! My kite- how fast and far it flew; 'T was paper'd o'er with studious themes, The tasks I wrote - my present dreams Will never soar so high. My joys are wingless all, and dead; My dumps are made of more than lead; My flights soon find a fall : My fears prevail, my fancies droop, Joy never cometh with a whoop, And seldom with a call! My foot-ball's laid upon the shelf; I am a shuttlecock myself, The world knocks to and fro. My archery is all unlearn'd, No more in noontide sun I bask; My authorship 's an endless task, My head 's ne'er out of school. My heart is pain'd with scorn and slight, I have too many foes to fight, And friends grow strangely cool! The very chum that shared my cake No skies so blue, or so serene All things I loved are alter'd so, Oh, for the garb that mark'd the boy - Well ink'd with black and red; The crownless hat - ne'er deem'd an ill, — It only let the sunshine still Repose upon my head! Oh, for the riband round the neck! The careless dogs' ears apt to deck Oh, for that small, small beer anew; And (Heaven's own type,) that mild sky blue That wash'd my sweet meals down; The master even - and that small Turk That fagg'd me! - worse is now my work; A fag for all the town! Oh, for the lessons learn'd by heart! The Arabian Nights, rehearsed in bed; The angel form that always walk'd The "omne bene" - Christmas come! Merit had prizes then! Then home, sweet home; the crowded coach The winding horns, like rams'; The meeting sweet, that made me thrill; When that I was a tiny boy My days and nights were full of joy, My mates were blithe and kind- THE RATS AND THE BARLEY. SOME Rats, having found a sack of barley deposited in the corner of a garret, enjoyed themselves every day, in feasting abundantly upon it, till it was all gone. The winter now set in, but they had no provision, and none could they get at in the neighborhood. "How foolish were we," said one of them, "that we did not eat less at a time, and then we might have had plenty to last us all the winter." THE BRAMIN. NEAR the banks of the Ganges, a mighty river held sacred by the Hindoos, natives of the great peninsula of Hindostan, is a stupendous cataract, that rushes with impetuous force over the scattered fragments of the rocks, dashing its silver foam from fall to fall, till it reaches a basin below, whence it flows in a rapid stream, through shady woods of tall forest trees, till its waters are lost in the Ganges. At the bottom of the lower fall, is a great hollow cavern, venerated by the Hindoos with religious superstition, from the inside of which, the descent of the cataract is seen in full view, forming part of the arc of a great circle. This cavern was the favorite retreat, for solemn meditation, of an aged bramin, who officiated as chief priest in a temple raised at a few miles' distance on the shore of a sacred stream.. The temple, or pagoda, as it is often called, is a stone building, rising to a great height in the form of a pyramid, with a flat top. The outside is richly adorned with bass relievos, and close by it is a tank or reservoir of water, with steps descending to the bottom, for the convenience of the devotees who attend the temple. Sydney, an English gentleman, of an enlightened mind, and engaging manners, who was travelling in pursuit of knowledge through the interior parts of the |