discouragement. They are never at a loss. They are equally ready to prophesy, with wonderful ingenuity, all possible varieties of misfortune to any enterprise that may be proposed; and when the thing is produced, and has met with some success, to find a flaw in it. 8. I once saw a work of art produced in the presence of an eminent cold-water pourer. He did not deny that it was beautiful; but he instantly fastened upon a small crack in it, that nobody had observed; and upon that crack he would dilate whenever the work was discussed in his presence. Indeed, he did not see the work, but only the crack in it. That flaw,-that little flaw,-was all in all to him. 9. The cold-water pourers are not all of one form of mind. Some are led to indulge in this recreation from genuine timidity. They really do fear that all new attempts will fail. Others are simply envious and ill-natured. Then, again, there is a sense of power and wisdom in prophesying evil. Moreover, it is the safest thing to prophesy, for hardly any thing at first succeeds exactly in the way that it was intended to succeed. 10. Again, there is the lack of imagination which gives rise to the utterance of so much discouragement. For an ordinary man, it must have been a great mental strain to grasp the ideas of the first projectors of steam and gas, electric telegraphs, and pain-deadening chloroform. The inventor is always, in the eyes of his fellow-men, somewhat of a madman; and often they do their best to make him so. 11. Again, there is the want of sympathy; and that is, perhaps, the ruling cause in most men's minds who have given themselves up to discourage. They are not tender enough, or sympathetic enough, to appreciate all the pain they are giving, when, in a dull plodding way, they lay out argument after argument to show that the project which the poor inventor has set his heart upon, and upon which, perhaps, he has staked his fortune, will not succeed. 12. But what inventors suffer, is only a small part of what mankind in general endure from thoughtless and unkind discouragement. Those high-souled men belong to the suffering class, and must suffer; but it is in daily life that the wear and tear of discouragement tells so much. Propose a small party of pleasure to an apt discourager, and see what he will make of it. It soon becomes sicklied over with doubt and despondency; and, at last, the only hope of the proposer is, that his proposal, when realized, will not be an ignominious failure. All hope of pleasure, at least for the proposer, has long been out of the question. DEFINITIONS.—2. Děş'ig-nāt-ed, called by a distinctive title, named. 5. Yăm, the root of a climbing plant, found in the tropics, which is used for food. 6. Im-pāled', put to death by being fixed on an upright, sharp stake. 8. Di-late', to speak largely, to dwell in narration. 10. Rise (pro. ris, not rīz), source, origin. Pro-jee'tor, one who forms a scheme or design. IV. THE MARINER'S DREAM. William Dimond was a dramatist and poet, living, in the early part of this century, at Bath, England, where he was born and received his education. He afterwards studied for the bar in London. His literary productions are for the most part dramas, but he has also written a number of poems, among them the following. 1. IN slumbers of midnight the sailor-boy lay; His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind; But watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away, And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind. 2. He dreamed of his home, of his dear native bowers, And pleasures that waited on life's merry morn; While Memory each scene gayly covered with flowers, And restored every rose, but secreted the thorn. 3. Then Fancy her magical pinions spread wide, 4. The jessamine clambers in flowers o'er the thatch, 5. A father bends o'er him with looks of delight; 6. The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast; Joy quickens his pulses,—all his hardships seem o'er; And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest,"O God! thou hast blest me,-I ask for no more.' دو 7. Ah! whence is that flame which now bursts on his eye? Ah! what is that sound that now 'larums his ear? 'Tis the lightning's red glare painting hell on the sky! 'Tis the crashing of thunders, the groan of the sphere! 8. He springs from his hammock, he flies to the deck; Amazement confronts him with images dire; Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a wreck; The masts fly in splinters; the shrouds are on fire. 9. Like mountains the billows tremendously swell; 10. O sailor-boy, woe to thy dream of delight! In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss! Where now is the picture that Fancy touched bright,Thy parents' fond pressure, and love's honeyed kiss? 11. O sailor-boy! sailor-boy! never again Shall home, love, or kindred, thy wishes repay; 12. No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee, 13. On a bed of green sea-flowers thy limbs shall be laid, Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow; Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made, And every part suit to thy mansion below. 14. Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away, And still the vast waters above thee shall roll; Earth loses thy pattern forever and aye; O sailor-boy! sailor-boy! peace to thy soul! DEFINITIONS.-1. Hăm'mock, a hanging or swinging bed, usually made of netting or hempen cloth. 4. Trăns'port, ecstasy, rapture. 5. Im-pearled' (pro. im-perled'), decorated with pearls, or with things resembling pearls. 7. 'Lăr'umş (an abbreviation of alarums, for alarms), affrights, terrifies. 12. Dirge, funeral music. NOTES.-13. Coral is the solid part of a minute sea animal, corresponding to the bones in other animals. It grows in many fantastic shapes, and is of various colors. Amber is a yellow resin, and is the fossilized gum of buried trees. It is mined in several localities in Europe and America; it is also found along the sea-coast, washed up by the waves. CV. THE PASSENGER PIGEON. John James Audubon (b. 1780, d 1851). This celebrated American ornithologist was born in Louisiana. When quite young he was passionately fond of birds, and took delight in studying their habits. In 1797 his father, an admiral in the French navy, sent him to Paris to be educated. On his return to America, he settled on a farm in eastern Pennsylvania, but afterwards removed to Henderson, Ky., where he resided several years, supporting his family by trade, but devoting most of his time to the pursuit of his favorite study. In 1826 he went to England, and commenced the publication of the "Birds of America," which consists of ten volumes-five of engravings of birds, natural size, and five of letterpress. Cuvier declares this work to be "the most magnificent monument that art has ever erected to ornithology." In 1830 Audubon returned to America, and soon afterwards made excursions into nearly every section of the United States and Canada. A popular edition of his great work was published, in seven volumes, in 1844, and "The Quadrupeds of America," in six volumes,-three of plates and three of letterpress, in 1846-50. He removed to the vicinity of New York about 1840, and resided there until his death. 1. THE multitudes of wild pigeons in our woods are astonishing. Indeed, after having viewed them so often, and under so many circumstances, I even now feel inclined to pause and assure myself that what I am going to relate is a fact. Yet I have seen it all, and that, too, in the company of persons who, like myself, were struck with amaze ment. 2. In the autumn of 1813 I left my house at Henderson, on the banks of the Ohio, on my way to Louisville. In passing over the Barrens, a few miles beyond Hardinsburgh, I observed the pigeons flying, from north-east to south-west, in greater numbers than I thought I had ever seen them before, and feeling an inclination to count the flocks that might pass within the reach of my eye in one hour, I dismounted, seated myself on an eminence, and began to mark with my pencil, making a dot for every flock that passed. 3. In a short time, finding the task which I had undertaken impracticable, as the birds poured in in countless multitudes, I rose, and, counting the dots then put down, |