learning of Elizabeth Carter, the elevated piety of Hannah More, the persuasive sense of Mrs. Barbauld, the elegant memoirs of her accomplished niece, the bewitching fiction of Madame D'Arblay," the vivid, picturesque and terrific imagery of Mrs. Radcliffe," the glowing poetry of Mrs. Hemans,' the matchless wit, the inexhaustible conversations, the fine character painting, the practical instructions, of Miss Edgeworth?

LESSON XCVII.

FEMALE PIETY.

1. THE gem of all others which enriches the coronet of a lady's character is unaffected piety. Nature may lavish much on her person; the enchantment of the countenance, the grace of her mein, or the strength of her intellect; yet her loveliness is uncrowned, till piety throws around the whole the sweetness and power of her charms. She then becomes unearthly in desires and associations.

2. The spell which bound her affections to the things below is broken, and she mounts on the silent wings of her fancy and hope to the habitation of God, where it is her delight to hold communion with the spirits that have been ransomed from the thraldom of earth, and wreathed with a garland of glory.

3. Her beauty may throw a magical charm over many; princes and conquerors may bow with admiration at the shrine of her love; the sons of science and poetry may embalm her memory in history and song; yet her piety must be her ornament, her pearl. Her name must be written in the "Book of Life," that when the mountains fade away, and every memento of earthly greatness is lost in the general wreck of nature, it may remain and swell the list of that mighty throng,

a Elizabeth Carter; an English poetess of great learning. b Han'nah More; an English poetess and moralist. c Mrs. Barbauld; (A.Letitia Aiken,) an English poetess and prose writer. d Madame D'Arblay', (mä'-däme' där-bla',) Francis Burney; an elegant English prose writer. e Mrs. Rad'cliffe, (Ann Ward ;) an elegant English prose writer. Mrs. Hemans, (Felicia D. Browne ;) a distinguished English poetess. g Miss Maria Edge'worth; a distinguished prose writer, born at Edgeworthtown, Ireland.

who have been clothed with the mantle of righteousness, and their voices attuned to the melody of heaven.

4. With such a treasure, every lofty gratification on earth may be purchased; friendships will be doubly sweet, pain and sorrow shall lose their sting, and the character will possess a price "far above riches;" life will be but a pleasant visit to earth, and death the entrance upon a joyful and perpetual home. And when the notes of the last trumpet shall be heard, and sleeping millions awake to judgment, its possessor shall be presented "faultless before the throne of God, with exceeding joy, and a crown of glory that shall never fade away."

5. Such is piety. Like a tender flower, planted in the fertile soil of woman's heart, it grows, expanding its foliage and imparting its fragrance to all around, till transplanted, it is set to bloom in perpetual vigor and unfading beauty in the Paradise of God. Follow this star; it will light you through every labyrinth in the wilderness of life, gild the gloom that will gather around you in a dying hour, and bring you safely over the tempestuous Jordan of death, into the haven of prom. ised and settled rest.

A Roman soldier, for some daring deed
That trespassed on the laws, in dungeon low
Chained down. His was a noble spirit, rough,
But generous, and brave, and kind.

He had a son; it was a rosy boy,

A little faithful copy of his sire

In face and gesture. From infancy the child
Had been his father's solace and his care.

The father shared and heightened. But at length
The rigorous law had grasped him, and condemned
To fetters and to darkness.

The captive's lot

He felt, in all its bitterness; the walls

Of his deep dungeon answered many a sigh

And heart-heaved groan. His tale was known, and touched
His jailer with compassion; and the boy,
Thenceforth a frequent visitor, beguiled

His father's lingering hours, and brought a balm
With his loved presence, that in every wound
Dropt healing. But in this terrific hour

He was a poisoned arrow in the breast
Where he had been a cure.

Of that first day of darkness" and amaze,

He came.

The iron door was closed, for them

Never to open more! The day, the night,
Dragged slowly by; nor did they know the fate
Impending o'er the city. Well they heard
The pent-up thunders in the earth beneath,
And felt its giddy rocking: and the air
Grew hot at length, and thick; but in his straw
The boy was sleeping: and the father hoped.
The earthquake might pass by; nor would he wake
From his sound rest the unfearing child, nor tell
The dangers of their state. On his low couch
The fettered soldier sunk; and with deep awe
Listened the fearful sounds: with upturned eye
To the great gods he breathed a prayer; then strove
To calm himself, and lose in sleep a while

His useless terrors.

• Darkness produced by volcanic smoke, which preceded the eruption of Mount Vesu. vius, when Herculaneum was destroyed, A. D. 79.

4.

But he could not sleep.

1.

His body burned with feverish heat; his chains

Clanked loud, although he moved not; deep in earth Groaned unimaginable thunders; sounds,

Fearful and ominous, arose and died.

Like the sad moanings of November's wind,
In the blank midnight. Deepest horror chilled
His blood that burned before; cold, clammy sweats
Came o'er him; then, anon, a fiery thrill

Shot through his veins. Now on his couch he shrunk
And shivered, as in fear; now upright leaped,
As though he heard the battle-trumpet sound.
And longed to cope with death.

2.

He slept at last,

A troubled, dreamy sleep. Well had he slept
Never to waken more!

But terrible his agony.

His hours are few,

PART II.

Soon the storm

Burst forth; the lightnings glanced; the air
Shook with the thunders. They awoke; they sprung
Amazed upon their feet. The dungeon glowed

A moment as in sunshine and was dark.
Again a flood of white flame fills the cell;
Dying away upon the dazzled eye

In darkening, quivering tints, as stunning sound

Dies throbbing, ringing in the ear.

Silence,

And blackest darkness. With intensest awe

The soldier's frame was filled; and many a thought
Of strange foreboding hurried through his mind,

As underneath he felt the fevered earth
Jarring and lifting, and the massive walls
Heard harshly grate and strain.

Loudly the father called upon his child.

No voice replied. Trembling and anxiously

He searched their couch of straw; with headlong haste

Trod round his stinted limits, and, low bent,
Groped darkling on the earth: no child was there.
Again he called: again, at farthest stretch
Of his accursed fetters, till the blood

Seemed bursting from his ears, and from his eyes
Fire flashed; he strained with arm extended far,
And fingers widely spread, greedy to touch
Though but his idol's garment. Useless toil!
Yet still renewed: still round and round he goes,
And strains, and snatches; and, with dreadful cries,
Calls on his boy. Mad frenzy fires him now.
He plants against the wall his feet; his chain
Grasps tugs, with giant strength, to force away
The deep-driven staple: yells and shrieks with rage.

3. And, like a desert lion in the snare
Raging to break his toils, to and fro he bounds.
But see the ground is opening a blue light
Mounts, gently waving; noiseless; thin and cold
It seems, and like a rainbow tint, not flame;
But by its luster, on the earth outstretched,
Behold the lifeless child! his dress is singed,
And o'er his face serene a darkened line
Points out the lightning's track.

And all his fury fled: a dead calm fell
That instant on him: speechless, fixed he stood,
And with a look that never wandered, gazed
Intensely on the corse. Those laughing eyes
Were not yet closed; and round those ruby lips
The wonted smile returned.

5.

Silent and pale

The father stands: no tear is in his

eye:

The thunders bellow; but he hears them not;
The ground lifts like a sea; he knows it not:
The strong walls grind and gape: the vaulted roof