and a half, and the other seven feet ten. The other branch, soon after its insertion, was parted into two, of five feet and a half each. INTERESTING EXTRACTS. DR. GOLDSMITH. A poor woman, who had seen better days, understanding from one of her acquaintance that Dr. Goldsmith had studied physic, and hearing of his great humanity, solicited him in a letter to send her something for her husband who had lost his appetite, and was reduced to a most melancholy state by continual anguish. The good natured poet waited on her instantly, and after some discourse with his patient, found him sinking into that worst state of sickness, poverty. The Doctor told him they should hear from him in an hour, when he should send to them some pills which he believed would prove efficacious. He immediately went home, and put ten guineas into a chip box with the following label· "These must be used as necessities require: be patient, and of good heart." LITERATURE Is a ray of that wisdom which pervades the universe. Like the sun, it enlightens, rejoices, and warms. By the aid of books we collect around us all things, all places, men and times. By them we are recalled to the duties of human life. By the sacred examples of greatness, our passions are diverted and we are roused to virtue. Literature is the daughter of heaven, who has descended upon earth to soften the evils of life. Have recourse then to books. The sages who have written long before our days, are so many travellers in the paths of calamity, who stretch out their friendly hands, inviting us when abandoned by the world, to join their society INSTANCES OF THE LOSS OF INTELLECT. Sir Isaac Newton lost the use of his intellect before his animal frame was arrested by the hand of death So it is said of a Mr. Swisset, that he often wept because he was not able to understand the books which he had written in his younger days. Cornivus, an excellent orator in the Augustine age, became so forgetful as not even to know his own. Simon Tournay, in 1201, after he had outdone all at Oxford for learning, at last grew such an idiot as not to know one letter from another, or one thing he had ever done. An excellent rule for living happy in society is, never to concern one's self with the affairs of others unless they wish for, or desire it. Under pretence of being useful, people often show more curiosity than affection. Every man has in his own life follies enough—in his own mind troubles enough-in the performance of his duties deficiencies enough—in his own fortunes evils enough, without minding other people's business. POETRY. THE PATH TO THE GRAVE. BY MRS. H. M. DODGE. The beautiful have passed this way, A mournfulness is resting here- The powerful have departed hence, Thou art such pleasant food for death! The young, the gay, the joyous one, But all its fine and touching tone Oh youth! Oh beauty! power and fame' But there are still an humble few, They pass this dark and lonely way For lo! all glowing from afar- Be joyful-Oh ye ransom'd souls, Dear Saviour, in the lowly grave O then, and shall thy followers shrink- I KNOW THOU HAST GONE. BY T. K. HERVEY. I know thou hast gone to the house of thy rest, I know thou hast gone where the weary are blest Where love has put off, in the lands of its birth, And hope, the sweet singer that gladdened the earth, I know thou hast gone where thy forehead is starred I know thou hast drank of the Lethe that flows In thy far away dwelling, wherever it be, And the love that made all things a music to me In the hush of the night, on the waste of the sea, I have ever a presence that whispers of thee, My eye must be dark, that so long has been dim, Ere again it may gaze upon thine; But my heart has revealings of thee and thy home, I never look up with a vow to the sky, And though, like a mourner that sits by a tomb, Yet the grief of my bosom-oh, call it not gloom- By sorrow revealed, as the stars are by night, And hope, like the rainbow, a creature of light, THE HUMA. BY LOUISA P. SMITH. Fly on! nor touch thy wing, bright bird, Fly on-nor seek a place of rest, In the home of "care-worn things," The fields of upper air are thine, I would thy home, bright one, were mine, I would never wander-bird, like thee, With wing and spirit once light and free They should wear no more, the chain With which they are bound and fetter'd here, Forever struggling for skies more clear. There are many things like thee, bright bird, Our air is with them for ever stirr'd, And happiness, like thee, fair one! Is ever hovering o'er, But rests in a land of brighter sun, On a waveless, peaceful shore, THE DAISY. Not worlds on worlds, in phalanx deep, For who but He who arch'd the skies, Could rear the daisy's purple bud Mould its green cup, its wiry stem, And fling it unrestrain'd and free, SONNET. There is a bondage which is worse to bear "Tis his who walks about in the open air, One of a Nation who, henceforth, must wear Their fetters in their Souls. For who could be, Who, even the best, in such condition, free From self-reproach, reproach which he must share THE DEW-DROP. The brightest gem cannot surpass |