(TO BE CONTINUED.)

Nevertheless, books have their uses; and we come to inquire, second, why we should read? The lighter uses of reading-to tranquilize our passions, to assuage our sorrows, to moderate our anxieties, to beguile our journeys, to give interest to our idle hours, to refine the manners and humanize the heart, to awaken the desire for knowledge and form the taste for reading-we pass with a single caveat against a class of books which is usually employed to answer these indications: I mean novels and romances. In condemning them let us not be understood as denouncing all fictitious productions; the fables of Æsop, the allegories of prophecy, the parables of Christ, the tales which embellish and impress historical facts, and the illustrations which the pulpit employs with so much grace and efficiency, afford at once authority for fiction and rules for its construction and use. Novels and romances usually offend a pure taste and a sound mind by their gaudy dress, their unnatural characters, and their paucity of instruction; and always tend to weaken the power of attention, to impair the judgment, to divorce the connection between action and sympathy, to give a preponderance to the imagination, to create a distaste for simple truth and a disinclination both for manly studies and the dull realities of life. Many of them are liable to a greater objection, as, by a Plutonic chemistry, they turn the diamond of virtue into the charcoal of vice. It is alleged that they soften the heart and excite an interest in suffering. Often, however, it is an undistinguishing or a mawkish sensibility, which, while it can weep over the picture of a dead Gipsy, can wring the living heart of a loving father. That by inflaming the imagination, interesting the affections, and exciting an interest in books, they may be useful to some minds, and, indeed, to most minds in certain moods, must be admitted; but since the good they accomplish may be effected by works of unquestionable tendency, why resort to such

A DINNER UNDER TRYING CIRCUMSTANCES. ELF-POSSESSION, in moments when danger threatens ourselves or others, is undoubtedly a most valuable quality, and one which it would be well to endeavor to cultivate by all judicious means. In my own experience an incident once occurred that powerfully illustrates this truth; and, with my reader's permission, I shall now briefly narrate it.

Many years ago, when a very young man, pursuing my professional studies, I was resident, during the summer months, at the lovely little village of -, on the shores of the romantic estuary of one of our great rivers, in the hope of recovering health, somewhat impaired by too assiduous application over the midnight oil. Among the casual acquaintanceships which I formed, there was a very slight one with a gentleman in the neighborhood, whom I shall call by the name of Johnson. This individual was a stout, short, thick-set single gentleman of middle age, of mild yet somewhat grave aspect, and gentlemanly manners. He possessed no striking peculiarities of character, and was generally respected as a quiet, unassuming, and inoffensive man.

I had been for some months in the village, and was on tolerably familiar terms with most of the ordinary residents, as well as the few summer visitors who frequented the place, when a rumor of a most extraordinary character suddenly spread abroad, and set every gossip on the alert. This rumor was neither more nor less than that the grave Mr. Johnson had been seen at an early hour in the morning, on a certain common near the beach, pirouetting and posturing in the most unaccountable manner, and finishing his extraordinary performance by a dance somewhat in the style of the Ojibbeway Indians. Every one, of course, had his own comment on this singular occurrence. One would have it that he had been returning in a state of semiinebriety, after dining with a half-pay captain in the neighborhood; another, that he was merely taking needful exercise, as he was much confined in the office during the day; while a third insisted that there was only one feasible explanation

of the mystery, when the man's character and other circumstances were taken into account, and that was, that he was stark staring mad. Which of these surmises was the correct one the sequel will show.

A day or two after the report above alluded to had been in circulation, I was standing on the pier, conversing with the captain of the local steamer which had just arrived, when Mr. Johnson made up to me in a hurried and excited way quite foreign to him, and, shaking me warmly by the hand, inquired after my welfare. As I before hinted, my acquaintance with him was but slight, so that I felt both surprised and somewhat uneasy at the unusual warmth of his salutation. This, however, he did not seem to observe, but continued to talk in a rapid and, occasionally, slightly incoherent manner, on a variety of subjects, concluding by asking me home to dine with him in a way which admitted of no denial. In vain I pleaded a prior engagement, in vain I asked leave only to run to my lodgings to change my dress; he would listen to no excuse, but taking a firm grasp of my arm, which he never for a moment relaxed, hurried me toward the house where he lodged. Ushering me into his sitting-room, he gave orders to the servant to bring dinner as soon as possible; and then, turning to me, proceeded in a low tone, and with an air of mystery, to inform me how he had of late been favored with certain visions and revelations of the most marvelous nature; how the medium of these revelations was a certain gentleman of ancient renown, and of erratic propensities, named Orion, well-known to students of mythology in connection with his aquatic exploits on a dolphin's back; how he had been endowed by this medium with the power of saving himself and friends from an impending terrible calamity. "But," added he, fixing his eyes upon me, "there is a condition which must be complied with before this power can be exercised with effect; and this condition implies a sacrifice, and the shedding of blood, to purify me and fit me for my high mission."

The conviction, which had been momentarily growing, now burst upon me, that I was in the presence of a raving maniac; and that the reader may appreciate the trying nature, not to say danger, of my position, I may state that the house, though at no great distance from others, was secluded in its own grounds, and surrounded by trees; that the only other person in it besides the madman and myself was the servant-girl before mentioned, as the family were all from home; while the chance of relief appearing, in

the form of a casual visitor, was very faint indeed. While earnestly occupied in detailing to me the incoherent dreams of a disturbed fancy, the servant entered with the dinner; and with evident marks of trepidation and terror, which did not serve to reassure my spirits, she deposited the materials and accompaniments of the meal, and hastily withdrew.

It is needless to remark that my appetite was somewhat of the smallest. In fact, what with my uneasiness lest the unfortunate maniac should take it into his head to injure either himself or me, anxious speculations as to the probability of assistance arriving, and with wonder how it was all to end, I could scarcely swallow a mouthful. But my host was so preoccupied with his own thoughts and communications, that he did not observe the lack of justice I did to his viands, and continued to talk of his visionary experiences in a strain of rapid and voluble earnestness, boasting of his ability to perform all sorts of impossible exploits, with an air of the most grave and settled conviction. "Ah! Mr. M.," said he, "you can not form the slightest conception of the glorious visitants I am favored with. Surrounded by an atmosphere of the most delicious music, their every gesture the very poetry of motion"and, as if to give me an illustration of his waking dreams, he suddenly started up, and commenced a kind of grotesque dance, while he whistled, or rather hissed out through his dry and cracked lips, some wretched imitation of a popular air. Not knowing what else to do, I sat uneasily still, and watched him; and really his powers of endurance were wonderful. He shuffled, gyrated, and pirouetted for an incredible length of time, without a symptom of fatigue, and with a liveliness and vivacity that were quite distressing. I was heartily tired of the performance, and was calculating when he should be obliged to give in through sheer exhaustion, when all at once a 'change" seemed to come over him; for, ceasing his perpetual motion, and hastily muttering something about the "time for action having arrived," he rushed into the little closet, which served both as dressing and bedroom, and which opened from the apartment in which we had dined. Conceive, reader, my horror, when I heard him rattle something, which I felt morally certain, from the sound, was a case of razors. Desperate at the thought of his obtaining possession of these deadly implements in his present state of mind, I hastened into the bedroom, and recollecting his having spoken of some letters he had to dispatch, I reminded him in a hurried manner that the post-bag would be closed immediately,

and, while his mind was thus diverted into a new channel, I quietly slipped the razor-case into my pocket. Remembering my having heard or read something of the power of the human eye over madmen, I tried the experiment on this occasion; but every attempt to catch his eye completely failed, from my having to encounter the glassy stare of a very unimpressible pair of spectacles which he wore, and which rendered perfectly hopeless every effort to penetrate them. But relief was now at hand. A smart double rap at the door, which was followed, when the girl opened it, by the authoritative demand, "Show me into Mr. Johnson's room," in Dr. S.'s well-known voice, was as music to my ears; and though the worthy Doctor had a complexion approaching the color of brick-dust, an exaggerated Roman nose, and no particular chin, I thought when he entered the room I had never seen so pleasant a countenance. My equanimity was not a little increased likewise by observing that he was followed by a stalwart gamekeeper and one or two villagers, who seemed intended as a corps de reserve, and who slipped into the kitchen as he entered our apartment.

It was curious to observe the effect of his appearance on the unhappy maniac. Advancing to the Doctor with an air of haughty coldness, yet with perfect good breeding: "May I ask," said he, "to what cause I am indebted for this visit? I am not aware that it is by my invitation you are here; and-"”

"No, sir," said Dr. S., brusquely interrupting him, and evidently determined to carry things with a high hand, "I am here by an authority superior to yours;" and then he added, sternly, "Sit down, sir; now, show me your tongue."

After a slight display of hesitation, his haughty mien deserted him, and he slunk to a chair with the subdued manner of a snubbed child. Thereafter he yielded passively to whatever was demanded of him while Dr. S. was present; but I afterward learned that it took four strong men to undress and put him to bed, so powerful was his resistance when he understood the Doctor had taken his departure.

As the surgeon's arrival was the signal of my release, I need not trespass further on the reader's patience than to observe, that I saw him embarked next day, under judicious control, on his way to a lunatic asylum in the neighboring city. The circumstances of the case, which I have given as they occurred, are indelibly impressed upon my mind; and I sincerely trust it may never again be my lot to dine under such trying circumstances.-London Leisure Hour.

In

To this patient habit Newton is indebted for many of his great discoveries: an apple falls upon him in his orchard, and the system of attraction succeeds in his mind; he observes boys blowing soap-bubbles, and the properties of light displayed themselves. Of Socrates it is said, that he would frequently remain an entire day and night in the same attitude, absorbed in meditation; and why should we doubt this, when we know that La Fontaine and Thompson, Descartes and Newton, experienced the same abstraction? Mercator, the celebrated geographer, found such delight in the ceaseless progression of his studies that he would never willingly quit his maps to take the necessary refreshments of life. Cicero's Treatise on Old Age, Cato applauds Gallus, who, when he sat down to write in the morning, was surprised by the evening; and, when he took up his pen in the evening, was surprised by the appearance of the morning. Buffon once described these delicious moments with his accustomed eloquence: "Invention depends on patience; contemplate your subject long; it will gradually unfold, till a sort of electric spark convulses for a moment the brain, and spreads down to the very heart a glow of irritation. Then comes the luxuries of genius! the true hours for production and composition; hours so delightful, that I have spent twelve and fourteen successively at my writing-desk, and still been in a state of pleasure!" It is probable that the anecdote of Marini, the Italian poet, is true; that he was once so absorbed in revising his Adonis, that he suffered his leg to be burnt for some time without any sensibility. Abstraction of this sublime kind is the first step to that noble enthusiasm which accompanies genius; it produces those raptures and that intense delight, which some curious facts will explain to us. This enthusiasm renders every thing surrounding us as distant as if an immense interval separated us from the scene. A modern astronomer, one summer night, withdrew to his chamber; the brightness of the heavens showed a phenomenon. He passed the whole night in observing it; and when they came early in the morning, and found him in the same attitude, he said, like one who had been recollecting his thoughts for a few moments, "It must be thus; but I'll go to bed before 'tis late!" He had gazed the entire night in meditation, and did not know it.

THE JOYS OF EARTH ARE FLEETING.

BY MRS. HARRIET E. FRANCIS.

"MINE, mine!" cried the Earth, as, with a glancing view,

She gazed at her robe of rich emerald hue; "I'm decked out in splendor, more beautiful far Than sun, moon, or comet, or bright twinkling star." But ere months passed away the earth, with a wail, Was mourning her beauty 'mid frost, snow, and hail.

"Mine, mine," cried a boy, with blue, laughing eye, "O, mine is this insect of beautiful dye!

I've followed it far this warm, sunny day,
And now with it long I gently will play."
He opened his hand to gaze at the prize-
The butterfly flew aloft in the skies.

"Mine, mine," said a maiden, with dark, wavy hair,

"O, mine is the love of one noble and fair!

The dream that I've cherished so long in my heart
The bridal hath bound it, no more to depart."
But a year scarce had passed ere the deep-scalding

tear

She bitterly wept o'er her husband's low bier. "Mine, mine," spoke a mother, in tenderest tone, As she gazed at her child, her cherished, her own, "O, mine is this loved one, and, e'er by his side, I'll shield him from evil, to virtue will guide." But time fled away, and deep furrows of care Were written, alas! on his forehead so fair.

"Ours, ours," was the shout of a happy throng, As they entered heaven's gates with a joyous song, "O, ours is this home where no sorrow can dwell, Where joys are sweeter than words could e'er tell!" And ages rolled on, yet their home was as bright As when first, in beauty, it broke on their sight.

Sunset falls, and the illimitable sky,
Its blue infinite depths reflect Thee there.
O, to get near to thee one little hour;
To feel the spirit borne above the cares
Which mar and stain the bosoms
That they tear; to see the billows

Of life's surging sea grow calm at thy command,
Is blest, indeed. To look back on
The thorny paths we may have trod
With bleeding feet, yet feel it hath
Been well; and forward to the
Coming strife, with an unwavering faith:
O, in an hour like this, how
Pales the brightness of Ambition's star!
How fades the glory of all earthly
Paths that lead not up to thee—
While holier beams the sacred luster
Of the rugged cross, the nail, the thorn!
What of their cruel goadings

For a little time, if with a strong,
Brave heart we still press on, and on!
A little hence, and o'er the golden streets
Perchance we glide with tireless feet,
The soul, all shriven of its earth-born sins,
Drinking the fadeless beauty of a
Better clime.

Why do we go astray?
Why should earth lure us with its
Mocking charms from safety and from God?
We dread its cold neglect and cruel scorn,
And strive for its applause, as though
The breaths that yielded it were not
As fleeting as the summer cloud.
O that the spirit of these holy
Hours might oftener fold the
Soul beneath its wings, till, won
From its wild wanderings, it might come
And calmly rest upon the bosom
Of its God!

HOLY HOURS.

BY MRS. L. H. BUGBEE.

How lovingly they brood above the world,
So still, so pure, unbarring heaven's gate
To let a glimmer of the glory through:
The spirit of a voiceless prayer on its
White wings goes up; and shining
Forms descend to meet the wanderer
On its homeward way. Heaven

Bends to earth, and earth looks up to heaven.
And, O, if Faith lends ear, the angels'
Silvery footfalls may be heard
Upon life's highways and its lone,
Sequestered paths, on mercy's errands bent.
Father my heart is calm: upon its
Feverish pulses has been laid
The heavenly solace; and I feel that
Thou art near in the hushed silentness.
Thy presence fills the broad green earth,
O'er which the golden glory of the

VESPER GROVE.

BY ALEXANDER CLARK.

COME, Seck the grove at twilight hour;

Let music float along:

Come, sit within the leafy bowver,
And sing our evening song.

Hark! through the boughs the vesper breeze

Is breathing melody;

That fairy music in the trees

An angel's voice may be!

May ev'ry word and ev'ry thought
Be calm as evening's breath,
And wisdom be in all things sought
To guide us safe till death!

Then shall we rise from mortal dust
To lofty spheres of light,
Where chants and anthems of the just
With seraphs' songs unite.