Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer,
Swung by angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch!" I cried, "thy God hath lent thee-by these angels he hath
sent thee

Respite-respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet," said I, "thing of evil!-prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that heaven that bends above us-by that God we both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aiden,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore?"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore? Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hast spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!-quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light, o'er him streaming, throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow, that lies floating on the floorShall be lifted-nevermore!

EDUCATION.

PRES'T G. T. CARPENTER.

Man, then, must be educated with a view to his three natures, and of his relations to two worlds. In this way alone can the how of his behavior be consistent with the what of his being and the why of his high relations.

The body links the spirit-man to the world of matter, but the spirit links him to the Spirit God, and leads him to inquire as to the relations

All

of this incorporated soul, with all of its lofty aspirations, grand capabilities, and undying energies, to the Infinite Spirit. There is a world within us, and a world without; there is the world of matter and the world of spirit; there is the present world, and the world to come. these must be held in purview if we would rightly answer the important question: "How shall man meet the fearful responsibilities of his existence?" If the body alone be developed, man is little more than a monster brute; if the mind alone, he may become a self-deifying egotist, as heartless as the hyena; and if the spirit alone, a mere worthless, mystic recluse. Not only do body, mind and spirit each require appropriate exercise and proportionate development, but the va、 rious faculties of the mind itself require appropriate means of culture. Physics and metaphysics, languages and mathematics, esthetics and ethics, are all essential to a full and symmetrical mental development. The great mistake of many modern scientists is to forget that the qualities of the soul cannot be dissected by the scalpel. Go forth, then, dear students, into life's great field, and build monuments, not upon the sands and quagmires of folly, sin and infidelity, but upon the sure foundation of virtue and religion - build monuments of greatness by means of humble goodness, and whatever exalts, purifies and ennobles human character. Let the jeweled index-finger of God's Word point out the way to glory and heavenly rest. Thus may life's opportunities become a diadem of immortal lustre upon the brow. Oh! life is grand in its heavenly entirety, but a human wreck is the greatest ruin in the universe.

THE LIFE-BOAT.

Quick! man the life-boat! See yon bark, that drives before the blast! There's a rock ahead, the fog is dark, and the storm comes thick and fast. Can human power, in such an hour, avert the doom that's o'er her? Her mainmast is gone, but she still drives on to the fatal reef before her? The life-boat! Man the life-boat!

Quick! man the life-boat! hark! the gun booms through the vapory air; and see! the signal flags are on, and speak the ship's despair. That forked flash, that pealing crash, seemed from the wave to sweep her; she's on the rock, with a terrible shock - and the wail comes loud and deeper. The life-boat! Man the life-boat!

Quick! man the life-boat! See-the crew gaze on their watery grave; already some, a gallant few, are battling with the wave; and one there stands, and wrings his hands, as thoughts of home come o'er him; for his wife and child, through the tempest wild, he sees on the heights before him. The life-boat! Man the life-boat!

Speed, speed the life-boat! Off she goes! and, as they pulled the oar,

from shore and ship a cheer arose that startled ship and shore. Lifesaving ark! yon fated bark has human lives within her; and dearer than gold is the wealth untold thou'lt save if thou canst win her. On, lifeboat! Speed thee, life-boat!

Hurra! the life-boat dashes on, though darkly the reef may frown; the rock is there the ship is gone full twenty fathoms down. But, cheered by hope, the seamen cope with the billows single-handed: they are all in the boat! hurra! they're afloat! and now they are safely landed by the life-boat! Cheer the life-boat!

SCOTT AND THE VETERAN.

BAYARD TAYLOR.

An old and crippled veteran to the War Department came;
He sought the Chief who led him on many a field of fame-
The Chief who shouted "Forward!" where'er his banners rose,
And bore his stars in triumph behind the flying foes.
"Have you forgotten, General," the battered soldier cried,
"The days of eighteen hundred twelve, when I was at your side?
Have you forgotten Johnson, that fought at Lundy's Lane?
'Tis true, I'm old and pensioned; but I want to fight again."
"Have I forgotten?" said the Chief; "my brave old soldier; No!
And here's the hand I gave you then, and let it tell you so;

But you have done your share, my friend; you're crippled, old and gray,
And we have need of younger arms and fresher blood to-day."
"But, General!" cried the veteran, a flush upon his brow,

"The very men who fought with us, they say, are traitors now;

They've torn the flag of Lundy's Lane - our old red, white and blue;
And while a drop of blood is left, I'll show that drop is true.
I'm not so weak but I can strike, and I've a good old gun
To get the range of traitors' hearts and pick them one by one.
Your Minie-rifles, and such arms, it ain't worth while to try;
I couldn't get the hang o' them; but I'll keep my powder dry!"
"God bless you, comrade!" said the Chief; "God bless your loyal heart;
But younger men are in the field and claim to have their part.
They'll plant our sacred banner in each rebellious town,
And wo, henceforth, to any hand that dares to pull it down!"
"But, General,"— still persisting - the weeping veteran cried,
"I am young enough to follow so long as you're my guide;

And some, you know, must bite the dust, and that, at least, can I;
So give the young ones place to fight, but me a place to die!
If they should fire on Pickens, let the Colonel in command
Put me upon the rampart with the flag-staff in my hand;

No odds how hot the cannon smoke, or how the shells may fly,
I'll hold the Stars and Stripes aloft — and hold them till I die!
I'm ready, General, so you let a post to me be given,
Where Washington can see me as he looks from highest Heaven,
And says to Putnam at his side, or, maybe, General Wayne:
'There stands old Billy Johnson, who fought at Lundy's Lane!'
And when the fight is hottest, before the traitors fly,
When shell and ball are screeching and bursting in the sky,
If any shot should hit me and lay me on my face,

My soul would go to Washington's and not to Arnold's place."

THE SONG OF THE CAMP.

An incident of the Crimean War.

BAYARD TAYLOR.

"Give us a song!" the soldier cried,
The outer trenches guarding,

When the heated guns of the camps allied
Grew weary of bombarding.

The dark Redan in silent scoff

Lay grim and threat'ning under;

And the tawny mound of the Malakoff
No longer belched its thunder.

There was a pause. A guardsman said:
"We storm the forts to-morrow;
Sing while we may― another day
Will bring enough of sorrow."

They lay along the battery's side,
Below the smoking cannon;

Brave hearts from Severn and from Clyde,
And from the banks of Shannon.

They sang of love and not of fame;
Forgot was Britain's glory;
Each heart recalled a different name,

But all sang "Annie Laurie."

Maxwelton's banks are bonnie
Where early falls the dew;
And 'twas there that Annie Laurie
Gave me her promise true—

Gave me her promise true·
Which ne'er forgot shall be;

And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd lay me down and die.

Voice after voice caught up the song;
Under its tender passion

Rose like an anthem rich and strong,
Their battle-eve confession.

Dear girl - her name he dared not speak,
But as the song grew louder,
Something upon the soldier's cheek
Washed off the stains of powder.

Beyond the darkening ocean burned
The bloody sunset's embers;
While the Crimean valleys learned
How English love remembers.

And once again a fire of hell

Rained on the Russian quarters;
With scream of shot and burst of shell,
And bellowing of the mortars!

And Irish Norah's eyes are dim
For a singer dumb and gory;
And English Mary mourns for him
Who sang of "Annie Laurie."

Sleep, soldiers, still in honored rest,
Your truth and valor wearing;
The bravest are the tenderest,-
The loving are the daring.

CREEDS OF THE BELLS.

G. W. BEAGAY.

How sweet the chime of the Sabbath bells! Each one its creed in music tells, in tones that float upon the air, as soft as song, and pure as prayer; and I will put in simple rhyme the language of the golden chime. My happy heart with rapture swells responsive to the bells-sweet bells.

"In deeds of love excel-excel," chimed out from ivied towers a bell. "This is the church not built on sands, emblem of one not built with