CHARLES. Nearly all of it, mamma.

MAMMA. I wish you, my dear, never to pass over a single word which you do not understand.

for an explanation of it.

CHARLES. Here is the place in the book, lope tribe.'

Always ask

The Ante

MAMMA. We will take this then for our lesson. Read it Charles, one sentence at a time.

CHARLES. The antelopes are in general an elegant and active tribe of animals, inhabiting mountainous countries, where they bound among the rocks with so much lightness and elasticity, as to strike the spectator with astonishment.'

MAMMA. Stop, there, Charles. What is the Antelope? LUCY. An animal.

MAMMA. Of what class?

FANNY. A quadruped.

MAMMA. What is meant by saying, they are in general active?' &c.

CHARLES. That they are most commonly so.

MAMMA. You are right. What do you mean by elegant ?'

CHARLES. Graceful, well made, full of grace.
MAMMA. Can Lucy tell me what 'active' means?
Lucy. Lively, moving about a great deal.

MAMMA. And what does a 'tribe' mean?

FANNY. A class, a race of beings.

MAMMA. Give me an instance by which this can be

proved.

CHARLES. Oh mamma, the hymn we transposed yesterday,

'Let every nation, every tribe

On this terrestrial ball,' &c.

MAMMA. What part of speech is 'active?'

FANNY. An adjective.

MAMMA. Lucy, tell me what your sister means by an adjective?

LUCY. A word added to a noun, to show its quality.

MAMMA. Which is the noun, then, here?

LUCY. Tribe,' mamma.

MAMMA. What does an animal' mean?

CHARLES. Any living thing.

MAMMA. This is not a sufficiently clear definition.

FANNY. No, because plants are alive; but they are quite different from animals.

MAMMA. What distinguishes an animal from a plant? CHARLES. The one can move itself where it pleases, and the other cannot.

MAMMA. Yes; life is distinguished into animal and vegetable life. How will you define the difference between them?

FANNY. Vegetable life is shown by plants growing gradually larger, and producing seeds, from which other plants spring; and animal life is shown, as Charles said, by those who possess it being able to go from one place to another.

MAMMA. Yes, and by what is called volition, that is, the exercise of will. We will now go on. Explain the word inhabiting.'

FANNY. Dwelling, or living, or existing.

6

MAMMA. Mountainous countries.'

LUCY. Countries full of mountains.

MAMMA. What would be the opposite to a mountainous country ?

FANNY. A flat country.

MAMMA. Give me another word, Charles.

CHARLES. A level, or even country.

MAMMA. What do you mean by 'a country?

Lucy. Land, mamma.

MAMMA. Your papa has land, has he therefore a country?

LUCY. No, he has not; his is only an estate.

MAMMA. You must then give me a clearer explanation of the word country.

FANNY. A large tract of land joined together, and generally containing rivers and hills.

MAMMA. That is better, but how do you distinguish this from a county?

CHARLES. Oh, a county is much smaller, mamma, it is a subdivision of a country.

MAMMA. These antelopes 'bound;' what does that mean?

CHARLES. There it means, about and between, and upon. I do not know one word, that will express it.

MAMMA. I think I know one beginning with A which is better than yours, Charles.

FANNY. Amidst mamma: am I right?

MAMMA. Yes Fanny. What am I to understand by 'a rock?'

LUCY. A very high, large place.

MAMMA. Then our house is a rock, Lucy, it is both high and large?

LUCY. Oh no, mamma; a rock is a natural thing, and our house is an artificial thing.

MAMMA. Right, my dear; I am glad you have remembered the meaning of those words; but if you allow yourself time to think, you can give me a clearer idea of a rock, than you have done.

LUCY. It is high, like a hill, only stony, instead of earthy.

MAMMA. That is much better, Lucy; what are its qualities?

LUCY. Hard and cold, and craggy, and sharp.
MAMMA. What does lightness' mean, Lucy?

Lucy. I suppose, it means that it does not jump heavily and awkwardly.

MAMMA. Just so; now for 'elasticity?'

FANNY. It means, does it not, that it springs easily? MAMMA. It does; an elastic thing, when bent, returns easily to the same place again. Tell me the names of some things that are elastic?

LUCY. A bow, mamma.

MAMMA. Now another instance.

CHARLES. Indian rubber.

MAMMA. That is a very good illustration ;-think again. FANNY. A watch spring.

MAMMA. Now another.

CHARLES. A branch of a tree; for if you bend it down, it recovers itself instantly.

MAMMA. Very true.

Is to strike, a noun, Lucy?

LUCY. No mamma, a verb.

MAMMA. Why so?

Lucy. Because it expresses action. To strike is an active verb.

MAMMA. And its meaning,-is to give a blow?

FANNY. Sometimes, mamma; but in this instance it

means to make a person feel any thing suddenly. That is a blow to the mind, is it not?

MAMMA. You are right; and astonishment' means

CHARLES. Surprise, wonder.

MAMMA. And a spectator' means,-what, Fanny?
FANNY. A person who sees any thing done.

MAMMA. But in one word, my dear?

FANNY. A beholder; an observer.

MAMMA. We have now got at the meaning of all these words; tell me what you have understood by the sentence. Of what is it speaking?

Lucy. Of antelopes.

MAMMA. What description is given of them?

FANNY. That they are elegant and active.

MAMMA. What feeling do they give to a spectator?

Lucy. They fill him with wonder.

MAMMA. Why do they do so?

CHARLES. Because they bound about the rocks with so much agility.-Aids to Development.

NATURE.

I LOVE to set me on some steep
That overhangs the billowy deep,
And hear the waters roar;
I love to see the big waves fly,
And swell their bosoms to the sky,
Then burst upon the shore.

I love when seated on its brow,
To look o'er all the world below,
And eye the distant vale;
From thence to see the waving corn,
With yellow hue the hills adorn,
And bend before the gale.

I love far downward to behold
The shepherd with his bleating fold,
And hear the tinkling sound

Of little bell and mellow flute,
Wafted on zephyrs soft, now mute,
Then swell in echoes round.

I love to range the valleys too,
And towering hills from thence to view,
Which rear their heads so high,
When nought beside, around, is seen
But one extended space between,
And overhead the sky.

I love to see at close of day,

Spread o'er the hills the sun's broad ray,
While rolling down the west;
When every cloud in rich attire,
And half the sky, that seems on fire,
For purple robes is drest.

I love, when evening veils the sky,
And the moon shines with silver ray,
To cast a glance around,

And see ten thousand worlds of light
Shine, ever new, and ever bright,
O'er the vast vault profound.

I love to let wild fancy stray,
And walk the spangled milky way,
Up to the shining height,

Where thousand thousand burning rays
Mingle in one eternal blaze,

And charm the ravished sight.

I love from thence to take my flight,
Far downward on the beams of light,
And reach my native plain,
Just as the flaming orb of day

Drives night, and mists, and shades away,
And cheers the world again.-Anon.

TEMPER AND DISPOSITION.

A GOOD temper is one of the principal ingredients of happiness. This, it will be said, is the work of nature, and must be born with us: and so, in a great measure it is; yet it may be acquired by art, and improved by culture. Almost every object that attracts our notice has a bright and a dark side. He that habituates himself to look at