death. Her sister, whose name was Helen Walker, might have saved her life, if she had been willing to swear to a false statement. This she would not do; but as soon as her sister was condemned, she proceeded on foot to London, being too poor to travel in any other way, and there obtained her pardon from the queen. Sir Walter Scott heard of this story, and made it the foundation of his beautiful novel of the Heart of Mid Lothian, and of his admirable character of Jeannie Deans.' He sought out the grave of Helen Walker, and caused a handsome monument to be erected over it, setting forth her virtues. Every one must share in the admiration this great and good man felt for this heroine in humble life.

Mr. Richard Lovell Edgeworth, the father of the Miss Edgeworth who wrote such charming books for children, at the close of a long life recorded these words in a book which he published: “To speak the truth without harshness is, in my opinion, the most certain way to succeed in every honorable pursuit.” May our young readers resolve to make “ truth without harshness” the guide of their lives !


[The Highland clans residing in the north of Scotland were formerly much engaged in wars against each other, and one clan would frequently march in great force to attack another. In those days every man was a fighting man. This piece of poetry expresses the sentiments and motives with which they set ont on such warlike expeditions. This state of things has long since ceased.

The word pibroch means a warlike tune played on a bagpipe. Dhu means black, or swarthy, and was a name applied to the composer of the tune, on account of his complexion. This pibroch is supposed to refer to the expedition of Donald Balloch, who, in 1431, landed from the Hebrides, and defeated the Earls of Mar and Caithness at Inverlochy, in Inverness-shire.]

PIBROCH * of Donald Dhu,
Pibroch of Donald,
Wake thy wild voice anew;
Summon clan Connel.

* Pronounced pe'brok.

Come away, come away;
Hark to the summons !
Come in your war array,
Gentles and commons.

Come from deep glen, and
From mountain so rocky;
The war pipe and pennon
Are at Inverlochy.
Come, every hill plaid, and
True heart that wears one,
Come, every steel blade, and
Strong hand that bears one.

Leave untended the herd,
The flock without shelter;
Leave the corpse uninterred,
Leave the bride at the altar;
Leave the deer, leave the steer,
Leave nets and barges :
Come with your fighting gear,
Broadswords and targes.*

Come as the winds come, when
Forests are rended ;
Come as the waves come, when
Navies are stranded:
Faster come, faster come,
Faster and faster,
Chief, vassal, page,


groom, Tenant and master.

Fast they come, fast they come;
See how they gather!
Wild waves the eagle plume,
Blended with heather.

* Targe, a small shield.

Cast your plaids, draw your blades,
Forward each man set!
Pibroch of Donald Dhu,
Sound for the onset !


NOBLE the mountain stream,
Bursting in grandeur from its vantage ground;

Glory is in its gleam
Of brightness, thunder in its deafening sound.

Mark how its foamy spray,
Tinged by the sunbeams with reflected dyes,

Mimics the bow of day,
Arching in majesty the vaulted skies !-

Thence in a summer shower
Steeping the rocks around. O, tell me where

Could majesty and power
Be clothed in forms more beautifully fair.

Yet lovelier, in my view,
The streamlet, flowing silently serene;

Traced by the brighter hue
And livelier growth it gives, — itself unseen!

It flows through flowery meads,
Gladdening the herds which on its margin browse;

Its quiet beauty feeds
The alders that o'ershade it with their boughs.

Gently it murmurs by
The village churchyard : its low, plaintive tone

A dirge-like melody,
For worth and beauty modest as its own.

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More gayly now it sweeps
By the small school house, in the sunshine bright,

And o'er the pebbles leaps,
Like happy hearts by holiday made light.

May not its course express,
In characters which they who run may read,

The charms of gentleness,
Were but its still small voice allowed to plead ?

What are the trophies gained
By power, alone, with all its noise and strife,

To that meek wreath, unstained,
Won by the charities that gladden life ?

Niagara's streams might fail, And human happiness be undisturbed ;

But Egypt would turn pale Were her still Nile's o'erflowing bounty curbed.



WHEN spring to wastes and woods around

Brought bloom and joy again,
The murdered traveller's bones were found

Far down a narrow glen.

The fragrant birch above him hung

Her tassels in the sky,
And many a vernal blossom sprung

And nodded careless by.

The redbird warbled, as he wrought

His hanging nest o'erhead, And fearless, near the fatal spot,

Her young the partridge led.

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Nor how, when strangers found his bones,

They dressed the hasty bier,
And marked his grave with nameless stones,

Unmoistened by a tear.

But long they looked, and feared, and wept,

Within his distant home,
And dreamed, and started as they slept,

For joy that he was come.

Long, long they looked, but never spied

His welcome step again,
Nor knew the fearful death he died

Far down that narrow glen.


the insect tribe with aversion and distaste, and regard them in no other light than as productive of mischief or annoyance. The mosquito teases us with his bite, and with the restless sound of his little trumpet. Flies in summer are a torment to all good housekeepers. Few persons can tolerate a spider, in spite of the regular beauty of the web it weaves. Beetles, caterpillars, worms, and slugs are all

MANY persons

look upon

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