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He showed me all the mercy, for he taught me all the sin. Now, though my lamp was lighted late, there's One will let me in:

Nor would I now be well, mother, again, if that could be,
For my desire is but to pass to him that died for me.

All in the wild March morning I heard the angels call;
It was when the moon was setting, and the dark was over all;
The trees began to whisper, and the wind began to roll,
And in the wild March-morning I heard them call my soul.

For lying broad awake I thought of you and Effie dear;
I saw you sitting in the house, and I no longer here;
With all my strength I pray'd for both, and so I felt resign'd,
And up the valley came a swell of music on the wind.

I thought that it was fancy, and I listen'd in my bed,
And then did something speak to me—I know not what was

said;

For great delight and shuddering took hold of all my mind, And up the valley came again the music on the wind.

But you were sleeping; and I said, "It's not for them; it's mine!"

And if it comes three times, I thought, I take it for a sign. And once again it came, and close beside the window-bars, Then seem'd to go right up to Heaven, and die among the stars.

So now I think my time is near. I trust it is. I know
The blessed music went that way my soul will have to go.
And for myself, indeed, I care not if I go to-day.
But, Effie, you must comfort her when I am pass'd away.

O sweet and strange it seems to me, that ere this day is done,
The voice, that now is speaking, may be beyond the sun-
For ever and for ever with those just souls and true—
And what is life, that we should moan? why make we such ado?

For ever and for ever, all in a blessed home—

And there to wait a little while till you and Effie come-
To lie within the light of God, as I lie upon your breast-
And the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.

Tennyson.

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19. Has spring arrived, and is Alice alive yet?

20. What things calls she sweet? 21. But what is sweeter than any.one of them to her?

22. Had she been willing to die at NewYear's Eve?

23. What blessings does she pour on the clergyman's head?

24. What good had the minister been the means of doing her?

25. What means she by "my lamp was lighted late"?

26. Will you read for me the parable of the ten virgins in Matt., 25 chap.

27. What merciful One will let her in? 28. Let her in, where ?

29. Relate the dream or vision she had on the "wild March morning."

30. What are the angels called in Heb. i. 14?

31. Of what did this dream or vision convince her?

32. What advice did she give Effie concerning her mother?

33. Have even young people any ground for sorrow when called to die, if they are joined to Christ?

34. Is there any safety for us poor sinners out of Jesus Christ?

35. Then, should not all flee to Jesus? 36. Shall parents and children, aud teachers and pupils who die in the Lord, meet each other in glory?

XX.-CŒUR DE LION AT THE BIER OF HIS FATHER.

HENRY II. eldest son of Geoffrey Plantagenet, (so named from a sprig of broom-in Latin, planta genista-in French, plante genet, which he used to wear in his cap) was born at Le Maus, in March 1133;-began to reign Dec. 8th 1154:-died July 6th 1189, having reigned 34 years. The latter part of his reign was spent in opposing the rebellions of his own sons, Henry, Geoffrey, Richard, and John, who being impatient for their father's death, and urged on by their own mother, took up arms to dethrone him. They did not succeed in their purpose;-Henry (the eldest son) died of a fever; Geoffrey was killed in a tournament or mock fight at Paris; and Richard collected an army to go to Palestine to fight against Saladin, but instead of going there he led it against his own father. Henry II. being quite unprepared for this attack, was obliged to make a treaty with his son, in which it was stipulated that all the Barons who had joined Richard should be freely pardoned. The King complied with this condition, but when he saw the name of his youngest and favourite son John among the rebels, he seemed to be broken-hearted, fell ill of a fever, and died. Henry II. was perhaps the ablest king that ever sat on the throne of England. The body of Henry II. lay in state in the Abbey-church of Fontevraud, where it was visited by Richard Coeur de Lion, who, on beholding it, was struck with horror and remorse, and reproached himself bitterly for that rebellious conduct which had been the means of bringing his father to an untimely grave.

Bier, n.
Censer's, n.

Stole, n.

Aisle, n.

Re-pent'ant, adj.
Recked', v.
State'-li-est, adj.
Re-nowned', adj.

TORCHES were blazing clear, hymns pealing deep and slow,

T

Where a king lay stately on his bier, in the church of Fonte

vraud,1

Banners of battle o'er him hung, and warriors slept beneath, And light, as noon's broad light, was flung on the settled face of death.

On the settled face of death a strong and ruddy glare,

Though dimmed at times by the censer's breath, yet it fell still brightest there;

As if each deeply-furrowed trace of earthly years to show,Alas! that sceptred mortal's race had surely closed in woe.

The marble floor was swept by many a long dark stole, As the kneeling priests, round him that slept, sang mass for the parted soul;

And solemn were the strains they poured through the stillness of the night,

With the cross above, and the crown and sword, and the silent king in sight.

There was heard a heavy clang, as of steel-girt men the tread, And the tombs and the hollow pavement rang with a sounding thrill of dread;

And the holy chaunt was hushed awhile, as, by the torches' flame,

A gleam of arms, up the sweeping aisle, with a mail-clad leader

came.

He came with haughty look, an eagle-glance and clear,

But his proud heart through his breast-plate shook, when he

stood beside the bier!

He stood there still, with a drooping brow, and clasped hands o'er it raised;

For his father lay before him low-it was Coeur-de-Lion' gazed!

And silently he strove with the workings of his breast; But there's more in late repentant love than steel may keep suppressed!

And his tears brake forth, at last, like rain,-men held their breath in awe,

For his face was seen by his warrior train, and he recked not that they saw.

1 Fontevraud, (Fong-te-vro) a village in France.

2 Coeur-de-Lion, that is, lion-hearted,-Richard was so called for his bravery.

He looked upon the dead, and sorrow seemed to lie,

A weight of sorrow, even like lead, pale on the fast-shut eye. He stooped-and kissed the frozen cheek, and the heavy hand

of clay,

Till bursting words-yet all too weak-gave his soul's passion way.

"O, father! is it vain, this late remorse and deep!

Speak to me, father! once again!-I weep-behold, I weep!
Alas! my guilty pride and ire! were but this work undone,
I would give England's crown, my sire, to hear thee bless thy

son!

"Speak to me:-mighty grief ere now the dust hath stirred: Hear me, but hear me!-father, chief, my king! I must be heard!

Hushed, hushed!-how is it that I call, and that thou answerest not?

When was it thus ?-woe, woe for all the love my soul forgot!

"Thy silver hairs I see-so still, so sadly bright!

And, father, father! but for me they had not been so white! I bore thee down, high heart, at last; no longer couldst thou strive ;

Oh! for one moment of the past, to kneel and say 'forgive !'

"Thou wert the noblest king, on a royal throne e'er seen, And thou didst wear, in knightly ring, of all, the stateliest mien;

And thou didst prove, where spears are proved, in war the bravest heart

Oh! ever the renowned and loved thou wert-and there thou art!

"Thou that my boyhood's guide didst take fond joy to be!— The times I've sported at thy side, and climbed thy parent knee! And there before the blessed shrine, my sire, I see thee lie,How will that sad still face of thine look on me till I die !" Mrs. Hemans.

1. Why was Henry II. called Plantagenet?

2. Where and when was he born? 3. When did he ascend the throne? 4. When did he die, and how long did he reign?

5. What embittered the latter part of his reign?

6. Name his four sons, and say what came of them.

7. What stipulation had he to agree to, when he was forced to treat with his own son Richard?

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JOACHIM Murat, was born in Perigord, in 1767. His father was a country innkeeper. Young Joachim was placed at the College of Cahors, and destined for the church; but he preferred the army, and enlisted into a regiment of chasseurs, from which he was dismissed for insubordination. He then took charge of his father's horses until the breaking out of the Revolution, when he obtained a commission in a regiment of chasseurs, and rose rapidly to the rank of colonel. He avowed Jacobin principles, but these did not prevent him from assisting Bonaparte in the affair of the Sections in 1795; and he was rewarded by being placed on the personal staff of the future emperor in the Italian campaign of 1796. He commanded the cavalry in the campaigns of Egypt, Italy, Austria, and Prussia; and in all, at Aboukir. Marengo, Austerlitz, Jena, Eylau, and Friedland, his services were brilliantly conspicuous.

After the Egyptian campaign, he obtained the hand of Caroline, youngest sister of Napoleon; and in 1806 was created grand-duke of Berg and Cleeves. In 1808 he commanded the French army in the invasion of Spain; whence he was recalled, and sent to Naples to ascend the throne of that kingdom. In 1812 he accompanied Napoleon on the expedition to Russia, in the command of the cavalry of the grand army. During this expedition, Murat displayed his usual valour, but disagreements arose between him and Napoleon, and finally, after the battle of Leipzig, he deserted his brother-in-law, and allied himself with his enemies. By this defection he for a time saved his own throne; but the delay of the Congress of Vienna to recognise his regal title hurried him, in 1815, into hostilities against the allied powers. He was compelled to flee from his kingdom; and afterwards landing in arms on the coast of Calabria with a few followers, he was captured and shot by the sentence of a Neapolitan court-martial.-Knight's National Cyclopædia,

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"My hour is come! Forget me not! My blessing is with you; With you my last, my fondest thought; with you my heart's adieu.

Farewell farewell, my Caroline! my children's doting mother, I made thee wife, and fate a queen-an hour and thou art neither;

Farewell, my fair Letitia, my love is with thee still:

Louise and Lucien, adieu; and thou, my own Achille !"
With quivering lip, but with no tear, or tear that gazers saw,
These words, to all his heart held dear, thus wrote the brave
Murat.

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