rising to the sight, and catching life and beauty from every increasing beam.
12. The scene still enlarges, and the horizon seems to widen and expand itself on all sides, till the sun, like the great Creator, appears in the east, and with farm ina his plastic rays completes the mighty scene.
pears enchantment, and it is with difficulty we can believe we are still on earth. The senses, unaccus- tomed to the sublimity of such a scene, are bewildered and confounded; and it is not till after some time that they are capable of separating and judging of the ob- jects that compose it. The body of the sun is seen rising from the ocean, immense tracts both of sea and land inting between ening. The islands of Lip'ari, Pana'ri, Alicu'di, Stromboli, and Volcano, with their smoking summits, appear under your feet.
13. You look down on the whole of Sicily, as on a map, and can trace every river, through all its wind tuning ings, from its source to its mouth. The view is abso-
outwellutely boundless on every side, nor is there boundource
any one object within the circle of vision to interrupt it; so that the sight is every where lost in the immensity; and I am persuaded it is only of our organs that the coasts of Africa, and even of Greece, are not discovered, as they are certainly above the ho- rizon. The circumference of the visible horizon, on the top of Etna, can not be less than two thousand miles. 14. The highest point of the mountain is 10,874 feet above the level of the sea. About eleven hundred, not regular feet from the summit there is an irregular plane, esti-/ mated to be nine miles in circumference, and from this plane rises the steep terminating cone, at the top of marth of the which is the great crater or opening, continually throwing out sulphureous vapors, and which is so hot that it is very dangerous to go down into it.
PATRICK BRYDONE. (1743-1818.)
RA'DI-ANCE, n., sparkling luster.
WEND, v. i. and t., to go.
VALLEY, n., a hollow between hills. |FA'VOR-ITE, a., regarded with favor.
Do not say ware, wisper, &c., for where, whis'per, &c. Heed the aspirate.
Man giveth up the ghost, and where is he?-JOB XIV. 10.
Of her whose wants he loved to tend; Not o'er those valleys wandering wide, Where, sweetly lost, he oft would wend. That form beloved he marks no more, Those scenes admired no more shall see; Those scenes are lovely as before,
And she as fair, but where is he?
No, no the radiance is not dim, That used to gild his favorite hill; The pleasures that were dear to him Are dear to life and nature still. But, ah! his home is not as fair;
Neglected must his garden be; The lilies droop and wither there, And seem to whisper, Where is he?
His was the pomp, the crowded hall; But where is now the proud display?
His, riches, honors, pleasures, — all,
Desire could frame; but where are they? And he, as some tall rock that stands, Protected by the circling sea, Surrounded by admiring bands,
Seemed proudly strong; and where is he?
The church-yard bears an added stone; The fire-side shows a vacant chair; Here Sadness dwells, and weeps alone;
And Death displays his banner there!
The life has gone; the breath has fled;
And what has been, no more shall be; The well-known form, the welcome tread, O! where are they? and where is he? HENRY NEELE. (1798-1828.)
CON-CEIVE', v. t., to form in the mind. LIVE'LI-HOOD, n., means of living.
ONE day, a rich man, flushed with pride and wine, Sitting with guests at table, all quite merry, Conceived it would be vastly fine
To crack a joke upon his secretary.
"Young man," said he, "by what art, craft, or trade, Did your good father earn his livelihood?" 'He was a saddler, sir," the young man said; "And in his line was always reckoned good."
'A saddler, eh? and had you stuffed with Greek, Instead of teaching you like him to do! And pray, sir, why did not your father make A saddler, too, of you?"
At this each flatterer, as in duty bound,
The joke applauded, and the laugh went round.
At length, the secretary, bowing low,
Said (craving pardon, if too free he made), 'Sir, by your leave, I fain would know
'My father's trade? Why, sir, but that's too bad! My father's trade? Why, blockhead, art thou mad? My father, sir, was never brought so low:
He was a gentleman, I'd have you know!"
"Indeed! excuse the liberty I take ;
But, if your story's true,
How happened it your father did not make A gentleman of you?"
Marco Bozzaris fell, in a night attack on the Turkish camp, at Laspi, August 20, 1823, and expired in the moment of victory. Pronounce the a in Boz-za'ris like a in far.
AT midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power.
At midnight, in the forest shades, nation Bozzaris ranged his Su'liote band,
True, as the steel of their tried blades,
Heroes in heart and hand.
There had the Persian thousands stood, There had the glad earth drunk their blood On old Platæa's day;
And now these breathed that haunted air The sons of sires who conquered there— With arm to strike, and soul to dare, As quick, as far as they!
An hour passed on-the Turk awoke; That bright dream was his last ;
to hear his sentry's shriek,
"To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek!" He woke to die midst flame and smoke, And shout, and groan, and saber stroke,
And death-shots falling thick and fast As lightnings from the mountain cloud; And heard, with voice as trumpet loud Bozzaris cheer his band:
"Strike till the last armed foe expires; Strike for your altars and your fires; Strike for the green graves of your sires; God- and your native land!"
They fought, like brave men, long and well; They piled that ground with Moslem slain; They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, Bleeding at every vein :
His few surviving comrades saw
His smile, when rang their proud “hurrah,” And the red field was won;
Then saw in death his eyelids close, Calmly as to a night's repose,
Like flowers at set of sun.
Bozzaris! with the storied brave,
Greece nurtured in her glory's time, Rest thee. There is no prouder grave Even in her own proud clime.
We tell thy doom without a sigh; For thou art freedom's now and fame's, - One of the few, the immortal names, That were not born to die.
ON RECONCILIATION WITH AMERICA.
RE-PEAL', v. t., to make void.
RE-TRACT, v. t., to take back.
AL-LAY', v. t., to repress; to check. FOREIGN (for'en), a., belonging to another nation or country. CON-CES'SION, n., act of yielding. ALIEN-ATE (ale'yĕn-āte), v. t., to transfer to another; to estrange. EX-TOR'TION, n., unlawful exaction.
RE-MOVAL, n., act of removing. OB'VI-OUS, a., easily discovered. DEL'E-GATE, n., one sent to act for others.
COM-PLI-CA'TION, n., an entanglement. UL'TI-MATE-LY, ad., finally. POL'I-CY, n., management of public affairs.
DES'POT-ISM, n., absolute power.
In acts, sub'jects, &c., sound the t. Do not say civl for civil.
1. AMERICA can not be reconciled to be reconciled-till the troops of Britain are withdrawn. How can she trust you, with the bayonet at her breast? How can she suppose that you mean less than bondage or death? It is not repealing this or that act of Parliament, it is not repealing a piece of parchment,- that can restore America to our bosom.
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