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place. We were very much discouraged,
as may be supposed, to find ourselves,
after traveling so long, almost at the same
point we had started from; but it was
useless to repine, so we took the “ back
track” once more, II ,as usual, lead
in* the way. After traveling an hour or
so, I found that he was again taking us
iti the direction of Goliad. Time was too
precious to be wasted, so I called a halt
ami told II peremptorily that I would
follow him no further. He insisted that
he was going ill the right direction, and
I, as positively, that he was going direct
ly contrary to the course we ought to
pursue. He was obstinate, and so was I.
H —*— had been born and reared in a city,
whilst I had lived the greater part of my
life upon the “frontiers,” and had been
accustomed to the woods ever since I was
old enough to carry a gun. For this rea-
son, I was satisfied I was the better
woodsman of the two. Besides, I
possessed to a considerable degree
what frontiersmen call “ hog know-,
ledge,” by which is meant that sort
of instinctive knowledge of courses
which enables some people to stem
their way through ■woods and path
less prairies, without a compass or
any prominent landmarks to guide
them. I, therefore, told II if
he persisted in going on, we would
certainly have to part, though I
was very loth to do so, under the
circumstances in which we were
placed. Thereupon, I turned and
took the opposite direction to the
one we had been traveling, with-i
out further parley.
; who was no woodsman, followed
me, for the reason, I suppose, that he
too had lost confidence in II ’s capa
bilities as a guide. II remained stand
ing where wo had left him—apparently
undetermined in his own mind what to
do—until we had gone perhaps a hundred
yards, when I observed him turn and
follow after us. When he overtook us,
he merely said, that he “had rather go
wrong than part company,” and no allu
sion was afterwards made to the subject,
hut from that time forward I always took
the lead, as a matter of course,
Duty.
Whene’er a duty waits for thee.
With sober judgment view it.
And never idly wish it done:
Begin at ovtk and do it.
An excellent mother, in writing to
one of her sons, on the birth of his eldest
son, says :
“Give him an education, that his life
may be useful ; teach him religion, that
his death may be happy.”
13 LJ It K K’ S W KE K LY .
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
“ The Mother’s Eyes.”
‘ What the blue sky is to the mother, the mother’s up
r iseil eyes and br w are to the child—the type and sym
bol of an invisible Heaven 1” — voi.kkidgk.
The little one knelt at the mother’s knee —
“Look upward, darling: dost thou see
How fair and lovely are God’s blue skies?”
But the child gazed in the mother’s eyes,
For, finding therein a heaven of love,
It cared not to look beyond or above.”
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
THE TOMB OF WASHINGTON.
Mount Vernon repose
§&£ the remains of him who
±npjc was “first in peace, first
ykibmMl 1
iH m war, and first in the
gk hearts of his country -
wl men.” Mrs. Anna Cora Ritchie
thus speaks of a visit which she
w 5 paid to this hallowed spot some
f; years since:
“ By a narrow foot-path we ascended a
iMI Bill Iw * I
I fl' ii £JR yi| M
majestic hill, thickly di\iped with trees-
The sun scarcely found its way through
the luxuriant foliage. We mounted slow
ly, but had only spent a few minutes in
ascending, when we came' suddenly upon
a picturesque nook, where a cluster of un
ostentatious white marble shafts shot
from the green earth, enclosed by iron
railings. These unpretending monuments
mark the localities where repose the mor
tal remains of Washington’s kindred.
“Just beyond stands a square brick
building. In the centre you see an iron
gate. Here the crowd pauses in reveren
tial silence. Men lift their hats and wo
men bow their heads. You behold with
in two sarcophagi.* In those moulding
tombs lie the ashes of the great Washing
ton and his wife. Not a word is uttered
as the crowd stand gazing on this lovely
receptacle of the dust of America’s might s
dead.”
* Sarcophagus conics from two Greek words, signifying
flesh eating, and was applied by the ancients to a species
of stone, used in making coffins. With us it means a
»fone coffin.
In 1825, during LaFayette’s stay in the
United States, and just before leaving the
country, he paid a parting visit to Mount
Vernon, and the grave which contained
all that remained of his beloved friend,
Overcome by tender recollections, the
great patriot of France wept long over
the dust of the great patriot of America.
No better example than than that of
Washington can be cited in the pages of
history for the guidance and instruction
of the young. He was an obedient son,
an affectionate husband, a consistent
i Christian, a brave and skilful soldier, and
a true patriot. “To his latest breath,”
says the distinguished Lord Brougham,
I “did this great patriot maintain the noble
character of a captain the patron of peace,
and a statesman the friend of justice.
1 Dying, he bequeathed to his heirs the
I sword which he had won in the war for
“liberty, and charged them ‘never
to take it from the scabbard but in
self-defence, or in defence of their
country and her freedom;’ and
commanded them that when it
should thus be drawn, they ‘should
never sheath it, nor ever give it up,
hut prefer falling with it in their
hands to the relinquishment there
of,’ —words, the majesty and sim
ple eloquence of which are not sur
! >assed in the oratory of Athens and
\ dome.”
\ gggr- Pray earnestly, sincerely,
\ md with a contrite, humble heart,
1 and God will hear your prayer, and
[grant your request.
Powers of a Bird’s Song.
Pi ROM Tundsdall’s Glaciers
and of the Alps, we take the
* “When we hear the
song of the soaring lark,
_ we may be sure that the
entire atmosphere between us and
the bird is filled with pulses or
undulations, or waves as they are
often called, produced by the little song
ster’s organ of voice. This organ is a vi
brating instrume if, resembling in princi
ple the reed of a clarionet. Let us sup
pose that we hear tin- song of the lark,
-devated to the height of 500 feet in the
air. Before this is pos» b e the bird must
~ave agitated a sphere of air one. thous
and feet in diameter—-that is to say, it
must have communicated to seven thous
and eight hundred and eighty-seven tons
of air a motion sufficiently intense to be
appreciated by our organs of hearing.”
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