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lie almost untouched before us. The chances of our predecessors have not been greater, than those which remain for our successors.

13. What has hitherto given prosperity and distinction, has not been more open to others than to us; to no one, past or present, more than to the young man of to-morrow. Sit not with folded hands, calling on Hercules. Thine own arm is the demigod.

14. It was given to thee to help thyself. Go forth into the world, trustful, but fearless. Exalt thine adopted profession, nor vainly hope that its name alone will exalt thee.

15. Look on labor as honorable, and dignify the task before thee, whether it be in the study, office, counting room, workshop, or furrowed field. There is an equality in all, and the resolute will and pure heart may ennoble either.

16. But no duty requires thee to shut out beauty, or to neglect the influences that may unite thee with heaven.

17. The wonders of art will humanize thy calling. The true poet may make thee a better man, and unknown feelings will well up within thee, where the painter's soul glows on canvas, and the almost breathing marble stands a glorious monument of the statuary's skill.

18. Nature, too, will speak kindly to thee, from field and forest, from hill and lake side. Go into glade and woodland, by the waving harvest, and the bright river hurrying to the sea. Look up at the stars in the still night.

19. Listen to the gentle voice of the south wind, as it whispers with the pines. Watch the pulsations of the ocean, as they regularly beat on the sand. Such teachings will tell thee there is consolation in the struggles of this life, and may foreshadow the repose of that which is to come.

DEATH OF THE FLOWERS.

1. THE melancholy days are come,
The saddest of the year,

Of wailing winds, and naked woods,
And meadows brown and sere.

2 Heaped in the hollow of the grove,
The withered leaves lie dead;
They rustle to the eddying gust,
And to the rabbit's tread.

3. The robin and the wren are flown,
And from the shrub the jay;
And from the wood top caws the crow
Through all the gloomy day.

4. Where are the flowers, the young, fair flowers, That lately sprang and stood

In brighter light and softer airs-
A beauteous sisterhood?

5. Alas! they all are in their graves;
The gentle race of flowers
Are lying in their lonely beds,
With the fair and good of ours.

6. The rain is falling where they lie;
But the cold November rain

Calls not, from out the gloomy earth,
The lovely ones again.

7. The wind flower and the violet

They perished long ago;

And the wild rose and the orchis died
Amid the summer glow;

8. But on the hill the golden rod,
And the aster in the wood,

And the yellow sunflower by the brook,
In autumn beauty stood,

9. Till fell the frost from the clear, cold heaven, As falls the plague on men;

And the brightness of their smile was gone
From upland, glade, and glen.

10. And now, when comes the calm, mild day, As still such days will come,

To call the squirrel and the bee
From out their winter home,

11. When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, Though all the trees are still, And twinkle in the smoky light

12. The south wind searches for the flowers
Whose fragrance late he bore,
And sighs to find them in the wood
And by the streams no more.

13. And then I think of one who, in
Her youthful beauty died,

· The fair meek blossom that grew up And faded by my side.

14. In the cold, moist earth we laid her,
When the forest cast the leaf;
And we wept that one so lovely
Should have a life so brief.

15. Yet not unmeet it was, that one,
Like that young friend of ours,

So gentle and so beautiful,
Should perish with the flowers.

PAPER MONEY AND EXCHANGE.

1. A YOUNG lad, named Marco Paul, was permitted by his father to visit Boston, in company with a gentleman by the name of Forester. Passing through State Street one day, Marco observed large buildings ornamented with porticoes and columns. The signs over the doors were chiefly names of banks and insurance offices. He said to his friend, "What kind of business is done here?"

2. Several kinds," said Forester; "though it may be said, in general, that nearly all the immense dealings which take place in this street, are in one single article."

3. "What is that?" asked Marco.

"Obligations," said Forester.

"I do'nt know what you mean by obligations," said Marco.

man

4. "Obligations to pay money," replied Forester. "In small transactions, the obligations which one comes under to pay money to another, are usually settled privately between the parties; but in large transactions, it is not so. The obligations in these great transactions are usually put in such a form, that they can be bought, sold, or exchanged.

5. "The banks and offices in State Street constitute the place, where all these obligations centre, to be paid or balanced one against the other. So that State Street may be considered as the general counting room of the city.

6. "If a Boston merchant gives another one his written promise to pay him a thousand dollars in three months, the paper goes, perhaps, from hand to hand, till it has performed a considerable circuit; but the merchant who gave it, is pretty sure to find it, at the end of the three months, in State Street. 7. "If a man wants to lend a thousand dollars, he

goes into State Street, and there he finds some one who wants to borrow. If he wishes to borrow a thousand dollars, he goes into State Street, and there he finds some one who wants to lend.

8. "If he has any money which he wants to keep safe, he sends it to a bank in State Street; and if he wants to pay any money, he sends the person who is to receive it to State Street, with a written order to the bank that keeps his money, to pay it to him."

"Then there must be a great deal of money in State Street," said Marco.

9. "Yes," replied Forester, "but not so much as might be supposed, judging from the immense magnitude of the money transactions which take place here every day,- for a very large part of the debts of the merchants is balanced by setting off one. against the other. So that there is, after all, not so much money in State Street, as one might suppose; and what money there is, is very seldom used."

10. "Why, Forester!" exclaimed Marco, much surprised to hear such a statement as that.

11. "I will explain to you," said Forester, "how receipts and payments are made, without money, through the banks and other institutions of State Street. Suppose a merchant wants to buy a hundred barrels of beef, to send away for sale. we will suppose that he has no money, but he has an obligation which another merchant, an importer, has given him, to pay a thousand dollars in four months.

Now,

12. "This was given him, we will suppose, on account of some merchandise which he has just sold the importer, to be sent to some foreign country. He carries the obligation to a bank in State. Street, and asks them to exchange their obligation for it. They do so, deducting something as their compensation."

13. "How much?" said Marco.