and the firing is interrupted. The foe ac- the rewards of diligence, without suffering cepts it as a sign of wavering, and come rush-its fatigues. He, therefore, still continued to ing on. They are not ten feet away when walk for a time, without the least remission the guns give them a last shot. That dis- of his ardour, except that he was sometimes charge picks living men off their feet, and tempted to stop by the music of the birds, throws them into the swamp a blackened, whom the heat had assembled in the shade, and bloody mass. Up now, as the enemy are and sometimes amused himself with plucking among the guns! There is a silence of ten the flowers that covered the banks on either seconds, and then the flash and roar of more side, or the fruit that hung upon the branches than 3000 muskets, and a rush forward with At last the green path began to decline from bayonets. For what? Neither on the right, its first tendency, and to wind among hills, nor left, nor in front of us is a living foe! and thickets, cooled with fountains, and There are corpses around us which have murmuring with water-falls. Here Obidah been struck by three, four, and even six bul- paused for a time, and began to consider lets, and nowhere on this acre of ground is a whether it were longer safe to forsake the wounded man! The wheels of the guns can- known and common track; but remembering not move until the blockade of the dead is re- that the heat was now in its greatest violence, moved. Men cannot pass from caisson to gun and that the plain was dusty and uneven, he without climbing over windrows of dead. resolved to pursue the new path, which he Every gun and wheel is smeared with blood supposed only to make a few meanders, in -every foot of grass has its horrible stain.- compliance with the varieties of the ground, Detroit Free Press. and to end at last in the common road.

ANONYMOUς.

THE JOURNEY OF A DAY,

A PICTURE OF HUMAN LIFE; THE STORY OF

OBIDAH.

Obidah, the son of Abensina, left the caravansera early in the morning, and pursued his journey through the plains of Indostan. He was fresh and vigorous with rest; he was animated with hope; he was incited by desire; he walked swiftly forward over the valleys, and saw the hills gradually rising before him. As he passed along, his ears were delighted with the morning song of the bird of paradise, he was fanned by the last flutters of the sinking breeze, and sprinkled with dew by groves of spices; he sometimes contemplated the towering height of the oak, monarch of the hills; and sometimes caught the gentle fragrance of the primrose, eldest daughter of the spring: all his senses were gratified, and all care banished from the heart.

Thus he went on till the sun approached his meridian, and the increasing heat preyed upon his strength; he then looked round about him for some more commodious path. He saw, on his right hand, a grove that seemed to wave its shades as a sign of invitation; he entered it, and found the coolness and verdure irresistibly pleasant. He did not, however, forget whither he was travelling, but found a narrow way bordered with flowers, which appeared to have the same direction with the main road, and was pleased that, by the happy experiment, he had found means to unite pleasure with business, and to gain

Having thus calmed his solicitude, he renewed his pace, though he suspected that he was not gaining ground. This uneasiness of his mind inclined him to lay hold on every new object, and give way to every sensation that might sooth or divert him. He listened to every echo, he mounted every hill for a fresh prospect, he turned aside to every cascade, and pleased himself with tracing the course of a gentle river that rolled among the trees, and watered a large region with innumerable circumvolutions. In these amusements the hours passed away uncounted, his deviations had perplexed his memory, and he knew not towards what point to travel. He stood pensive and confused, afraid to go forward lest he should go wrong, yet conscious that the time of loitering was now past. While he was thus tortured with uncertainty, the sky was overspread with clouds, the day vanished from before him, and a sudden tempest gathered round his head. He was now roused by his danger, to a quick and painful remembrance of his folly; he now saw how happiness is lost, when ease is consulted; he lamented the unmanly impatience that prompted him to seek shelter in the grove, and despised the petty curiosity that led him on from trifle to trifle. While he was thus reflecting, the air grew blacker, and a clap of thunder broke his meditation.

He now resolved to do what remained yet in his power; to tread back the ground which he had passed, and try to find some issue where the wood might open into the plain. He prostrated himself on the ground, and commended his life to the Lord of nature. He rose with confidence and tranquillity, and pressed on with his sabre in his hand, for the