with frozen snow, and covered with reindeer or seal skin. Outhouses connect with the main room, and frequently a number of dwellings are built contiguously, with a passage from one to another.

8. These houses are comfortable and durable, resisting alike the wind and the thaw until late in the season. Care must be taken that the walls are not so thick as to make them too warm, and so cause a dripping from the interior. A square block of snow serves as a stand for the stone lamp, which is their only fire.

9. "The purity of the material," said Sir John Franklin, who saw them build an edifice of this kind at Coppermine River, "of which the house was framed, the elegance of its construction, and the translucency of its walls, which transmitted a very pleasant light, gave it an appearance far superior to a marble building, and one might survey it with feelings somewhat akin to those produced by the contemplation of a Grecian temple reared by Phidias; both are triumphs of art, inimitable in their kind."

HUBERT H. BANCROFT.

LESSON XXI.

THE FIGHT OF PASO DEL MAR.

Shal'lop, a sort of large boat | Head'land, a point of land pro

with two masts.

Hov'er ing, hanging fluttering in the air, or upon the wing; hanging upon or about. Mist'ed, covered with mist. Seŭd, to drive along swiftly, as clouds, sea-spray are driven by the wind.

jecting from the shore into the

sea.

De vour ́ing, destroying; consuming.

Brǎn'dished, waved, as a weap

on.

Phrĕn'şied, maddened.
De spīte', in spite of.

G

USTY and raw was the morning,
A fog hung over the seas,

And its gray skirts, rolling inland,
Were torn by the mountain trees;
No sound was heard but the dashing
Of waves on the sandy bar,
When Pablo of San Diego

Rode down to the Paso del Mar.

2. The pescador, out in his shallop,
Gathering his harvest so wide,
Sees the dim bulk of the headland
Loom over the waste of the tide ;
He sees, like a white thread, the pathway
Wind round on the terrible wall,
Where the faint, moving speck of the rider
Seems hovering close to its fall !

3. Stout Pablo of San Diego

Rode down from the hills behind;
With the bells on his gray mule tinkling,
He sang through the fog and wind.
Under his thick, misted eyebrows,
Twinkled his eye like a star,
And fiercer he sang, as the sea-winds
Drove cold on Paso del Mar.

4. Now Bernal, the herdsman of Corral,
Had traveled the shore since dawn,
Leaving the ranches behind him—
Good reason he had to be gone!
The blood was still red on his dagger,
The fury was hot in his brain,

And the chill, driving scud of the breakers
Beat thick on his forehead in vain.

5. With his blanket wrapped gloomily round him, He mounted the dizzying road,

And the chasms and steeps of the headland
Were slippery and wet, as he trode ;
Wild swept the wind of the ocean,

Rolling the fog from afar,

When near him a mule-bell came tinkling,
Midway on the Paso del Mar !

6. "Back!" shouted Bernal full fiercely,

And "Back!" shouted Pablo, in wrath,
As his mule halted, startled and shrinking,
On the perilous line of the path!

The roar of devouring surges

Came up from the breakers' hoarse war; And "Back, or you perish!" cried Bernal, "I turn not on Paso del Mar !"

7. The gray mule stood firm as the headland.
He clutched at the jingling rein,

When Pablo rose up in his saddle,
And smote till he dropped it again.
A wild oath of passion swore Bernal,
And brandished his dagger, still reă,
While fiercely stout Pablo leaned forward,
And fought o'er his trusty mule's head.

8. They fought, till the black wall below them
Shone red through the misty blast;

Stout Pablo then struck, leaning further,
The broad breast of Bernal at last.
Then, phrensied with pain, the swart herdsman
Closed round him his terrible grasp,

And jerked him, despite of his struggles,
Down from the mule, in his clasp.

9. They grappled with desperate madness
On the slippery edge of the wall,
They swayed on the brink, and together
Reeled out to the rush of the fall!
A cry of the wildest death anguish
Rang faint through the mist afar,
And the riderless mule went forward
From the fight of the Paso del Mar !

BAYARD TAYLOR.

LESSON XXII.

OVER THE RIVER.

Běck'on, to make a sign with a Phăn'tom, spectral; ghostly.

motion of the hand; to sum

mon.

Twi'light, the faint light perceived just before the rising and just after the setting of the sun.

Môr'tal, subject to death; belonging to man, who is mortal.

O

Răn ́somed, redeemed; saved.
Mys'tie, mysterious; unknown.
Yearn'ing, sorrowing for; long-
ing.

Aye, always; forever.

Sun'der, to tear; to sever.

VER the river they beckon to me

Loved ones who've crossed to the farther side;

The gleam of their snowy robes I see,

But their voices are drowned in the rushing tide. There's one with ringlets of sunny gold,

And eyes, the reflection of heaven's own blue;
He crossed in the twilight gray and cold,

And the pale mist hid him from mortal view.
We saw not the angels that met him there e;
The gates of the city we could not see;
ver the river, over the river,

My brother stands waiting to welcome me !

2. Over the river the boatman pale

Carried another, the household pet;

Her brown curls waved in the gentle gale-
Darling Minnie! I see her yet!

She crossed on her bosom her dimpled hands,
And fearlessly entered the phantom bark;
We watched it glide from the silver sands,
And all our sunshine grew strangely dark.
We know she is safe on the farther side,
Where all the ransomed and angels be;
Over the river, the mystic river,

My childhood's idol is waiting for me!

3. For none return from those quiet shores,
Who cross with the boatman cold and pale ;
We hear the dip of the golden oars,
And catch a gleam of the snowy sail,

And lo! they have passed from our yearning hearts;
They cross the stream, and are gone for aye;
We may not sunder the veil apart

That hides from our vision the gates of day;
We only know that their bark no more
May sail with us o'er life's stormy sea;
Yet, somewhere, I know, on the unseen shore,
They watch, and beckon, and wait for me!

4. And I sit and think, when the sunset's gold Is flushing river, and hill, and shore,

I shall one day stand by the water cold,

;

And list for the sound of the boatman's oar;
I shall watch for a gleam of the flapping sail
I shall hear the boat as it gains the strand;
I shall pass from sight with the boatman pale,
To the better shore of the spirit-land.