Sternly and sadly heard,

As it quenched the wood-fire's glow,

Which had cheered the board with the mirthful word

And the red wine's foaming flow:
Until that sullen boding knell,
Flung out from every fane,
On harp, and lip, and spirit, fell
With a weight and with a chain.

Woe for the pilgrim then,

In the wild deer's forest far!
No cottage lamp to the haunts of men
Might guide him, as a star.

And woe for him whose wakeful soul,
With love aspiring filled,

Would have lived o'er some immortal scroll,
While the sounds of earth were stilled!

And yet a deeper woe

For the watcher by the bed,

Where the fondly-loved in pain lay low,
In pain and sleepless dread!

For the mother, doomed unseen to keep
By the dying babe her place,

And to feel its flitting pulse, and weep,
Yet not behold its face!

Darkness in chieftain's hall!

Darkness in peasant's cot!

While Freedom, under that shadowy pall,
Sat mourning o'er her lot.

Oh! the fireside's peace we well may prize,
For blood hath flowed like rain,

Poured forth to make sweet sanctuaries

Of England's homes again.

-Mrs. Hemans (1793-1835).

QUESTIONS.

What was the Curfew Bell? What made it distasteful to the English? How was it grievous to the peasant? To revellers? To the pilgrim? To the student? To the watcher by the sick

bed? To the mother tending her dying child? Were any exempt from this law? Why should we prize the peace of our firesides?

Spell words having the same sound as-night, nave, need, not, no, nose, new, fane, pain, seen, deer, pall, rain.

DICTATION.

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day. The knight was kneeling all night in the nave of the holy fane. The wicked knave would fain have struck him with his knife. Do not tie the knot so tight. She was kneading the dough, and I was knitting, when we heard a knock. They need know nothing about the matter. Mary soon knew every lesson in her new book.

[ALONG the coasts of the British Islands there are rugged rocks and treacherous sand-banks that threaten destruction to our ships and death to our sailors. Buoys, beacons, and floating light-ships have been placed at points of danger; and on many bleak headlands and sunken reefs, lighthouses have been erected whose "ruddy gem of changeful light, bound on the dusky brow of night" has been the means of saving many from a watery grave.]

THE steamer Forfarshire left Hull for Dundee on the evening of Wednesday, 5th September, 1838, having on board a valuable cargo and above forty passengers. Her crew consisted of twenty-one persons; and the captain's wife accompanied him on the voyage.

On the evening of Thursday, the ship encountered a severe storm of wind, attended with heavy rain and a dense fog. She leaked to such a degree that the fires could not be kept burning, and her engines soon ceased to work. She now became unmanageable, and drifted at

the mercy of the wind and waves.

An attempt was

made to run her between two of the Farne Islands, but without success; and at three o'clock on Friday morning she struck with tremendous force against the outer, or Longstone Island.

At this moment most of the passengers were asleep in their berths. One, alarmed by the shock, started up and rushed upon deck. When he reached it, he found everything in a state of confusion; and seeing some of the crew hoisting out a boat, he sprang into it along with the sailors. The violence of the waves instantly bore it away from the vessel; and several passengers, who had come on deck, perished in their attempt to reach it. The boat was picked up some hours afterwards, and taken into the port of Shields.

In less than five minutes, a second shock separated the steamer into two parts. The stern, with most of the passengers and the captain and his wife, was swept away by a tremendous current, and all upon it were lost. The fore part, on which were five of the crew and four passengers, stuck fast to the rock. These few survivors remained in their dreadful situation till day-break. With what anxious hearts did they long for the morning light! And yet, what could the help of man avail them even then? Craggy and dangerous islets lay between them and the nearest land; and around these rocks a sea was raging in which no boat was likely to live. But, through the providence of God, a deliverance was in store for them-a deliverance wrought by the strong heart of an heroic girl.

In the dim light of the early morning, Grace Darling, the daughter of the lighthouse keeper on the Longstone, beheld the remnant of the ship impaled upon the distant

rocks, and the waves dashing over it with dreadful violence. She hastily aroused her father, and urged him to launch his boat and put to sea, in the hope of saving some of the ill-fated crew.

William Darling was no coward; but he saw that the undertaking would be one of extreme danger. The fatal

rock was a mile distant; and between it and them, though the gale had somewhat abated, the sea was still fiercely raging. Besides, there did not seem to be any living person upon the wreck; indeed, it was hardly possible, he thought, that any could have survived such a night of storm. Under these circumstances, the bravest man that ever lived might well have hesitated; and William Darling

remained for a time undecided whether to make the attempt or not.

In the meantime Grace had been watching the wreck intently by the aid of a telescope, and had discovered living beings still clinging to it. Then the gallant girl could brook no longer delay. Declaring that she would rather perish herself than allow her fellow-creatures to sink before her eyes without an effort being made to save them, she seized an oar and entered the boat. This was enough. Her father followed her example; and soon the frail skiff was toiling over the foaming billows on its errand of mercy.

After incredible exertions, they reached the ridge which had proved fatal to the steamer. The father scrambled up the rocks, and with much difficulty and danger transferred the sufferers to his boat, which bore them in safety to the beach. The nine survivors were taken to the lighthouse, where, under the kind nursing of Grace and her mother, they soon recovered from the effects of their exposure to the storm.

The fame of this heroic deed spread far and wide; and the name of Grace Darling was in every mouth. Poets sang her praises, and artists flocked to her lonely dwelling to take her portrait and to paint the scene of the shipwreck and the rescue. A large sum of money was collected and presented to her; and some of the most eminent persons in the land wrote letters to her, expressing their admiration of her daring and generous conduct. But Grace was as modest as she was brave; and the meekness with which she bore her honours equalled the courage with which she had won them.

She returned to her former quiet manner of life; but the shock and exertions of that dreadful morning had