2. How erect, at the outermost gates
Of the City Celestial, he waits,

With his feet on the ladder of light,
That, crowded with angels unnumbered,
By Jacob was seen, as he slumbered
Alone in the desert at night?

3. The Angels of Wind and of Fire
Chant only one hymn, and expire
With the song's irresistible stress;
Expire in their rapture and wonder,
As harp strings are broken asunder
By music they throb to express.

4. But serene in the rapturous throng,
Unmoved by the rush of the song,
With eyes unimpassioned and slow,
Among the dead angels, the deathless
Sandalphon stands listening breathless
To sounds that ascend from below ;-

5. From the spirits on earth that adore,
From the souls that entreat and implore,
In the fervor and passion of prayer;
From the hearts that are broken with losses,
And weary with dragging the crosses
Too heavy for mortals to bear.

6. And he gathers the prayers as he stands, And they change into flowers in his hands, Into garlands of purple and red;

And beneath the great arch of the portal,
Through the streets of the City Immortal,
Is wafted the fragrance they shed.

7. It is but a legend I know,

A fable, a phantom, a show,
Of the ancient Rabbinical lore;

Yet the old mediæval tradition,

The beautiful strange superstition,

But haunts me and holds me the more.

8. When I look from my window at night,
And the welkin above is all white,
All throbbing and panting with stars,
Among them, majestic, is standing
Sandalphon, the angel, expanding
His pinions in nebulous bars.

9. And the legend, I feel, is a part

Of the hunger and thirst of the heart,
The frenzy and fire of the brain,
That grasps at the fruitage forbidden,
The golden pomegranates of Eden,
To quiet its fever and pain.

Talmud, the body of the Hebrew laws,
traditions, and explanations, or the
book that contains them.

Răb'bin, master; lord;-a Jewish title of respect or honor, belonging to a teacher or doctor of the land.

Me'di æ'val, relating to the middle ages.

LESSON VII.

SHERIDAN'S RIDE.

BY T. B. READ.

Thomas Buchanan Read was born in Chester County, Penn., in 1822. At the age of seventeen he went to Cincinnati, and entered a sculptor's studio, but soon after devoted himself to painting. He visited Europe in 1850, and again in 1864, residing at Rome until the spring of 1872, when he sailed for the United States. He died shortly after his arrival at New York. He was signally successful in his profession as a painter of portraits and human figures; and as a poet also he is entitled to a high rank. Sheridan's Ride, his most popular poem, was published in 1865.

U

P from the south at break of day,

Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay,
The affrighted air with a shudder bore,
Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door,
The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar,
Telling the battle was on once more,
And Sheridan-twenty miles away.

2. And wilder still those billows of war
Thundered along the horizon's bar;
And louder yet into Winchester rolled
The roar of that red sea uncontrolled,
Making the blood of the listener cold

As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray,
And Sheridan-twenty miles away.

3. But there is a road from Winchester town,
A good, broad highway leading down ;
And there, through the flush of the morning light,
A steed, as black as the steeds of night,
Was seen to pass, as with eagle-flight.
As if he knew the terrible need,

He stretched away with the utmost speed;
Hills rose and fell-but his heart was gay,
With Sheridan fifteen miles away.

4. Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering south,
The dust, like the smoke from the cannon's mouth,
Or the trail of a comet sweeping faster and faster,
Foreboding to foemen the doom of disaster;
The heart of the steed and the heart of the master
Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls,
Impatient to be where the battle-field calls;
Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play,
With Sheridan only ten miles away.

5. Under his spurning feet, the road
Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed,
And the landscape sped away behind,
Like an ocean flying before the wind;

And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire,
Swept on, with his wild eyes full of fire.
But, lo! he is nearing his heart's desire—
He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray,
With Sheridan only five miles away.

6. The first that the General saw were the groups
Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops;-
What was done-what to do-a glance told him both.
Then striking his spurs, with a terrible oath,

He dashed down the line, 'mid a storm of huzzahs,
And the wave of retreat checked its course there, because
The sight of the master compelled it to pause.

With foam and with dust that black charger was gray;
By the flash of his eye, and his red nostril's play,
He seemed to the whole great army to say;
"I have brought you SHERIDAN all the way
From Winchester down to save the day!"

7. Hurrah, hurrah! for SHERIDAN !

Hurrah, hurrah! for horse and man!
And when their statues are placed on high,
Under the dome of the Union sky,-
The American soldier's Temple of Fame,-
There, with the glorious General's name,
Be it said, in letters both bold and bright :
"Here is the steed that saved the day,
By carrying SHERIDAN into the fight
From Winchester-twenty miles away!"

LESSON VIII.

THE LAST HOURS OF LITTLE PAUL DOMBEY.

BY CHARLES DICKENS.

Charles Dickens, probably the most popular of modern novelists, was born at Landport, Portsmouth, England, in 1812. He was intended for the profession of the law, but became a newspaper reporter and drifted into literature. His first efforts were published in the Morning Chronicle, as "Sketches of Life and Character." He soon became famous, and his writings were eagerly sought and read by all classes. His pictures of life in the lower walks of London, with all its humors and sorrows, are drawn with marvelous skill. Indeed, his characters have a vitality and reality scarcely paralleled among the shadowy creations of fiction. Among his best known works are David

Copperfield, Old Curiosity Shop, The Pickwick Papers and Nicholas Nickleby. He died in June, 1869. The following extract is from his novel Dombey and Son.

AUL had never risen from his little bed. He lay there, listening to the noises in the street, quite tranquilly; not caring much how the time went, but watching everything about him with observing eyes.

2. When the sunbeams struck into his room through the rustling blinds, and quivered on the opposite wall like golden water, he knew that evening was coming on, and that the sky was red and beautiful. As the reflection died away, and the gloom went creeping up the wall, he watched it deepen, deepen, deepen into night. Then he thought how the long streets were dotted with lamps, and how the peaceful stars were shining overhead. His fancy had a strange tendency to wander to the river, which he knew was flowing through the great city; and now he thought how black it was, and how it would look, reflecting the hosts of stars, and more than all, how steadily it rolled away to meet the sea.

3. As it grew later in the night, and footsteps in the street became so rare that he could hear them coming, count them as they passed, and lose them in the hollow distance, he would lie and watch the many-colored ring about the candle, and wait patiently for day.

4. His only trouble was the swift and rapid river. He felt forced, sometimes, to try to stop it-to stem it with his childish hands, or choke its way with sand-and when he saw it coming on, resistless, he cried out! But a word from Florence, who was always at his side, restored him to himself; and leaning his poor head upon her breast, he told Floy of his dream, and smiled.

5. When day began to dawn again, he watched for the sun; and when its cheerful light began to sparkle in the room, he pictured to himself-pictured!-he saw-the high churchtowers rising up into the morning sky; the town reviving, waking, starting into life once more, the river glistening as it rolled (but rolling fast as ever), and the country bright with dew.