idea of a wood moving, is easily solved. When the besieging army marched through the wood of Birnam, Malcolm, like a skillful general, instructed his soldiers to hew down every one a 330 bough and bear it before him, by way of concealing the true numbers of his host. This marching of the soldiers with boughs had at a distance the appearance which had frightened the messenger. Thus were the words of the spirit brought to pass, in a sense different from that in which Macbeth had understood them, 335 and one great hold of his confidence was gone.

And now a severe skirmishing took place, in which Macbeth, though feebly supported by those who called themselves his friends, but in reality hated the tyrant and inclined to the party of Malcolm and Macduff, yet fought with the extreme of rage 340 and valor, cutting to pieces all who were opposed to him, till he came to where Macduff was fighting. Seeing Macduff, and remembering the caution of the spirit who had counseled him to avoid Macduff above all men, he would have turned, but Macduff, who had been seeking him through the whole fight, opposed his 345 turning, and a fierce contest ensued; Macduff giving him many foul reproaches for the murder of his wife and children. Macbeth, whose soul was charged enough with blood of that family already, would still have declined the combat; but Macduff still urged him to it, calling him tyrant, murderer, hell-hound, 350 and villain.

Then Macbeth remembered the words of the spirit, how none of woman born should hurt him; and smiling confidently he said to Macduff, "Thou losest thy labor, Macduff. As easily thou mayest impress the air with thy sword, as make me vulnerable. I bear a 355 charmed life, which must not yield to one of woman born."

"Despair thy charm," said Macduff, "and let that lying spirit, whom thou hast served, tell thee, that Macduff was never born of woman, never as the ordinary manner of men is to be born, but was untimely taken from his mother."

"Accursed be the tongue which tells me so," said the trembling Macbeth, who felt his last hold of confidence give way; “and

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let never man in future believe the lying equivocations of witches and juggling spirits, who deceive us in words which have double 365 senses, and while they keep their promise literally, disappoint our hopes with a different meaning. I will not fight with thee.”

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"Then live!" said the scornful Macduff; "we will have a show of thee, as men show monsters, and a painted board, on which shall be written, 'Here men may see the tyrant!''

"Never," said Macbeth, whose courage returned with despair; "I will not live to kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, and to be baited with the curses of the rabble. Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane, and thou opposed to me, who wast never born of woman, yet will I try the last." With these fran375 tic words he threw himself upon Macduff, who, after a severe struggle, in the end overcame him, and cutting off his head, made a present of it to the young and lawful king, Malcolm; who took upon him the government which, by the machinations of the usurper, he had so long been deprived of, and ascended the throne 380 of Duncan the Meek amid the acclamations of the nobles and the people.

From "Tales from Shakespeare."

GLOSSARY. Impregnable; averred; equivocal; untimely; baited; machinations. STUDY. Tell step by step how the prophecies of the witches worked out. How did Macbeth's efforts to make himself safe really help the fulfillment of their strange words? Did Macbeth die in a brave or cowardly fashion? Do you feel sorry for either Lord or Lady Macbeth? Why was it fitting that Macduff should slay Macbeth? What does the story suggest about such traitorous ambitions as those possessed by Macbeth?

CHARLES LAMB

Born, in London, England, February 10, 1775.

Died, at Edmonton, a London suburb, December 27, 1834.

It quite

Mr. Lamb's personal appearance was remarkable. realized the expectations of those who think that an author and a wit should have a distinct air, a separate costume, a particular

cloth, something positive and singular about him. Such unquestionably had Mr. Lamb. Once he rejoiced in snuff-color, but latterly his costume was invariably black-with gaiters which seemed longing for something more substantial to close in. His legs were remarkably slight, so indeed was his whole body, which was of short stature, but surmounted by a head of amazing 10 fineness. His face was deeply marked and full of noble lines traces of sensibility, imagination, suffering, and much thought. His wit was in his eye, luminous, quick, and restless. The smile that played about his mouth was ever cordial and good-humored; and the most cordial and delightful of his smiles were those which 15 accompanied his affectionate talk with his sister, or his jokes against her.

JOHN FORSTER.

(The following whimsical autobiography was written by Lamb in 1827.) Charles Lamb, born in the Inner Temple, 10th February, 1775; educated in Christ's Hospital; afterwards a clerk in the Accountant's Office, East India House; pensioned off from that service, 20 1825, after thirty-three years' service; is now a gentleman at large; can remember few specialties in his life worth noting, except that he once caught a swallow flying (teste sua manu1). Below the middle stature; cast of face slightly Jewish, with no Judaic tinge in his complexional religion; stammers abominably, and is therefore 25 more apt to discharge his occasional conversation in a quaint aphorism, or a poor quibble, than in set and edifying speeches; has consequently been libeled as a person always aiming at wit; which, as he told a dull fellow who charged him with it, is at least as good as aiming at dullness. A small eater, but not drinker; 30 confesses a partiality for the production of the juniper berry; was a fierce smoker of tobacco, but may be resembled to a volcano burnt out, emitting only now and then an occasional puff. He has been guilty of obtruding upon the public a tale in prose, called Rosamond Gray, a dramatic sketch named John Woodvil, a

I Teste sua manu = Witness his hand.

Farewell Ode to Tobacco, with sundry other poems and light prose 35 matter, collected in two slight crown octavos, and pompously christened his works, though, in fact, they were his recreations; and his true works may be found on the shelves of Leadenhall Street, filling some hundred folios. He is also the true Elia, whose essays are extant in a little volume. He died 18- much 40 lamented. Witness his hand.

Such wit, such humor, such imagination, such intelligence, such sentiment, such kindliness, such heroism, all so quaintly mixed and mingled, and stuttering out in so freakish a fashion, and all blending so finely in that exquisite eccentric something 45 which we call the character of Charles Lamb, make him the most lovable of writers and men.