would have so forgotten everybody there but him and Floy, and been so full of tenderness and pity. "Floy! this is a kind, good face!" said Paul. "I am glad to see it again. Don't go away, old nurse! Stay here!" His senses were all quickened, and he heard a name he knew. "Who was that? who said Walter?" he asked, looking round. "Some one said Walter. Is he here? I should like to see him very much.” Nobody replied directly, but his father soon said to Susan, "Call him back, then: let him come up!" After a short pause of expectation, during which he looked with smiling interest and wonder on his nurse, and saw that she had not forgotten Floy, Walter was brought into the room. His open face and manner, and his cheerful eyes, had always made him a favorite with Paul; and when Paul saw him, he stretched out his hand and said, "Good-bye!" "Good-bye, my child!" cried Mrs. Pipchin, hurrying to his bed's head. "Not good-bye?" For an instant, Paul looked at her with the wistful face with which he had so often gazed upon her in his corner by the fire. “Ah, yes,” he said, placidly, "good-bye! Walter dear, good-bye!" turning his head to where he stood, and putting out his hand again. Where is papa?" 66 He felt his father's breath upon his cheek, before the words had parted from his lips. 66 "Remember Walter, dear papa," he whispered, looking in his face, remember Walter. I was fond of Walter!" The feeble hand waved in the air, as if it cried "good-bye!" to Walter once again. "Now lay me down again," he said; "and, Floy, come close to me, and let me see you!" Sister and brother wound their arms around each other, and the golden light came streaming in, and fell upon them, locked together. 'How fast the river runs between its green banks and the rushes, Floy! But it's very near the sea. I hear the waves. They always said so!" Presently he told her that the motion of the boat upon the stream was lulling him to rest. How green the banks were now, how bright the flowers growing on them, and how tall the rushes! Now the boat was out at sea, but gliding smoothly on. And now there was a shore before him. Who stood on the bank! He put his hands together, as he had been used to do at his prayers. He did not remove his arms to do it, but they saw him fold them so behind her neck. "Mamma is like you; Floy. I know her by the face! But tell them that the print upon the stairs at school is not divine enough. The light about the head is shining on me as I go!" The golden ripple on the wall came back again, and nothing else stirred in the room. The old, old fashion! The fashion that came in with our first garments, and will last unchanged until our race has run its course, and the wide firmament is rolled up like a scroll. The old, old fashion-Death ! O, thank God, all who see it, for that older fashion yet, of immortality! And look upon us, angels of young children, with regards not quite estranged, when the swift river bears us to the ocean! CHARLES DICKENS. Spell and pronounce :-sparkle, glistening, centered, radiant, tranquilly, reviving, opposite, attendants, directly, reflection, difference, and favorite. The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore. Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came; Not with the roll of the stirring drums, Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear;— They shook the depths of the desert gloom Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea: And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free! The ocean eagle soared From his nest by the white wave's foam; And the rocking pines of the forest roared: This was their welcome home! There were men with hoary hair Amidst that pilgrim band;— Why had they come to wither there, There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth; There was manhood's brow serenely high, What sought they thus afar? Bright jewels of the mine? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? Ay! call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod; They have left unstained what there they In the severest There is a river in the ocean. droughts it never fails, and in the mightiest floods it never overflows. Its banks and its bottom are of cold water, while its current is of warm. The Gulf of Mexico is its fountain, and its mouth is in the Arctic Seas. It is the Gulf Stream. There is in the world no other such majestic flow of waters. Its current is more rapid than the Mississippi or the Amazon, and its volume more than a thousand times greater. The currents of the ocean are among the most important of its movements. They carry on a constant interchange between the waters of the poles and those of the equator, and thus diminish the extremes of heat and cold in every zone. The sea has its climates as well as the land. They both change with the latitude; but one varies with the elevation above, the other with the depression below, the sea-level. The climates in each are regulated by circulation: but the regulators are, on the one hand, winds; on the other, currents. The inhabitants of the ocean are as much the creatures of climate as are those of the dry land; for the same Almighty hand which decked the lily and cares for the sparrow, fashioned also the pearl and feeds the great whale, and adapted each to the physical conditions by which His providence has surrounded it. Whether of the land or the sea, the inhabitants are all His creatures, subjects of His laws, and agents in His economy. The sea, therefore, we may safely infer, has its offices and duties to perform; so, may we infer, have its currents; and so, too, its inhabitants: consequently, he who undertakes to study its phenomena must cease to regard it as a waste of waters. He must look upon it as a part of that exquisite machinery by which the harmonies of nature are preserved, and then he will begin to perceive the developments of order and the evidences of design. From the Arctic Seas, a cold current flows along |