tain of flesh! Who would compare the elephant with the gallant horse. What swiftness in his hoof! What fire in his eye! What brilliancy in the varying hues of his sleek skin! What grace in every motion! The warrior's friend and companion, yet to a child gentle as a woman.

Yusef. Praise Allah for the horse, the swift and beautiful horse! But the most useful of animals is the camel, the ever faithful, patient, obedient camel.

Timour. As for usefulness, what pursuit is so useful as war? and what animal so fit for war as the horse? A squadron of camels would set the soldiers laughing instead of fighting.

Chang. In war the elephant can trample an army under foot. His mighty trunk smites fierce blows, and on his back he carries to battle a host who fight as from a castle.

Yusef. But Allah has filled the earth, with deserts-arid sands where the horse's hoof sinks, and where he faints and falls for thirst; but which the broad-footed camel can traverse day after day, asking for support only a few mouthfuls of dry twigs. Sweet and truc is the strain of the poet

And through wilds of trackless sand,
In the hot Arabian land,

Where no rock its shadow throws,
Where no cooling water flows,
Where the hot air is not stirred

By the wing of singing bird,

The camel goes, untired and meek,

Day by day, and week by week.

Hans. Hold there, with your camels and elephants! What sort of beasts are they? Do you spear them in the water, or do you hunt them in the ice? The best of animals is the seal.

Thunder-cloud. The bison, you should say, the noble bison, created by the Great Spirit as game worthy of the bow of a brave. The chase of the bison makes warriors. When the arrow has pierced his heart the women preserve the flesh for food. They dress the skin. They cut and sew it into moccasins. They stretch out the hide for a shield, or they shape it into a saddle, or prepare it for the cover of a tent. Or they paint it with ochre and vermillion, they ornament it with eagles' feathers, they fringe it with the claws of the wolf, and behold! a robe fit for the shoulders of a great chief.

Hans. Robe! Do you call such loose, rattling trumpery fit apparel for a man of sense? Look at my dress. This cap that warms my ears is seal-skin. This comfortable coat is seal-skin. These colddefying leggings are seal-skin. These soft boots are seal-skin. I plunge into the water, and come out dry as a duck. My boat is seal-skin, sewed with thread made of its sinews; and for a tent-cover what could be better?

Yusef. Better? The proper material for a tent cover is cloth of camel's hair.

Thunder-cloud. A warrior disdains to repose under shelter less noble than the skin of a bison.

Hans. My Lapland cousins boast of their reindeer, a poor, miserable, lean, dry race of beasts, only fit to drag sledges over the snow, and even for such use a train of dogs is a hundred fold better.

Timour. Dogs for draft! That may do in ice-bound Greenland, but for saddle or harness give me the gallant horse. And what rich feasts have I made of his flesh!

Yusef. If you come to food, you must yield to the camel. Its flesh sustains the strong, its milk refreshes the weak.

Thunder-cloud. The warrior returning from battle with the scalps of his foes feasts on the tongue and the hump of the bison.

Chang. Poor ignorant souls, you evidently have never tasted of an elephant's foot. Roasted in embers, it surpasses the delicious seaslug or the slimy birds-nest.

Hans. Horse beef! Camel's flesh! Bison's tongue! Elephant's foot, birds-nests, and sea-slugs! What disgusting messes! Have your palates never been made happy with seal? Its flesh soft and tender, and of flavor sweeter than lamp-oil! How the mouth waters at the thought of the delicious blubber, trembling in richness and fatness, like a bowl of jelly! Others may boast of their overlauded wine, but nothing warms old Hans's heart like a brimming gallon of sealoil.

Chang. What is Hans prating about? Would he compare a fat, stupid, uncouth, clumsy, shapeless seal with the most wonderful animal in creation- the adorable white elephant, the monarch of all four-footed things?

Hans. Does your adorable white elephant yield light to cheer your tents, or fuel to warm them? Does his skin furnish the softest and warmest and sleepiest of beds? Can the women make of his hide casks to hold oil and cups to drink it from? The despised seal does all this, and more; nay, I have a tame seal at home that is the best fisher on the coast of Greenland, and supplies us all summer with codfish and salmon. Can the adorable white elephant catch codfish?

Reuben Smith. Well, friends, I have listened to you patiently; now listen to me. A white elephant will do as well as any thing else for a heathen Asiatic to worship; or a bison for a painted Indian to hunt with bow and arrow. If we all roamed life-long in deserts, we should prize the camel, and I do not see how Hans could live without seals; but for true usefulness, the greatest good of the greatest number, dead or alive—I take the part of the homely, patient ox. All. (With astonishment and derision.) The ox! How absurd!

Reuben. Yes, the ox! Alive, he drags the ponderous burden or plows the stubborn glebe. When we are tired or hungry, how refreshing is a draught of milk or a morsel of cheese!

Dead, his career of usefulness is just begun. Every part is of value. His flesh is the most nutritious of food. Who can describe the countless uses of the leather into which his hide is transformed? Our shoes are made of calf-skin and soled with ox-hide. The fat becomes candles and soap. Without leather and soap civilization is suspended. The bones find a thousand uses. Buttons, knife handles

Chang (interrupting.) But you do not mean to compare coarse bone to ivory?

Reuben. Yes, I do, because ivory is dear, while bone is cheap. One is for the rich, the other for the million. The horns are made into combs and cups and other useful objects. The very hoofs and scraps yield glue. I could continue, but let these suffice. All honor then to the ox as the most useful of animals!

LESSON CCXXIV.

CHAM-01S' (sha-moy'), an animal of the goat-kind, found among the Alps. It frequents the wildest and most inaccessible cliffs. To hunt it requires the highest exertion of daring and skill.

GLA'CI-ERS (gla'si-erz), immense fields
of ice formed in deep valleys on the
sides of mountains.
LAIR, den, resting-place.
RECK, to heed, to care for.

PRONUNCIATION.-Shaft 32c, sin'ews 16, pil'low 6, un-daunt ́ed 20.

THE CHAMOIS-HUNTERS.

1. AWAY to the Alps! for the hunters are there,
To rouse the chamois, in his rock-vaulted lair.
From valley to mountain, see!-swiftly they go,
As the ball from the rifle, the shaft from the bow.

2. Nor chasms nor glaciers their courage dismay;
Urdaunted they leap like young leopards at play;
And the dash of the torrent sounds welcome and dear,
As the voice of a friend to the wanderer's ear.

3. They reck not the music of hound or of horn,
The neigh of the courser, the gladness of morn ;—
The blasts of the tempest their dark sinews brace,
And the wilder the danger, the sweeter the chase.
4. With spirits as strong as their footsteps are light,
On, onward they speed in the joy of their might,
Till eve gathers round them, and silent and deep —
The bleak snow their pillow-the wild hunters sleep.

CHARLES SWAIN.

LESSON CCXXV.

BUGGY, a light one-horse wagon, with | PEACE SO-CI E-TY, an association having four wheels.

FRA CAS, quarrel, dispute.

JOB, piece of work, undertaking.

for its object the abolition of war among nations.

PE'RI-OD, a particular portion of time.

Job rhymes with rob, and got with spot.

HOW TO MAKE UP A QUARREL.

1. It is my beleif, says William Ladd, the President of the American Peace Society, that the principles of peace, if carried into practice, will maintain good-will among neighbors as well as among nations.

2. But there was a time when I had not thought much about this subject. At that period I believed that, if a man struck me a blow, it was fair and best to strike back again, without considering whether there was not some better way of overcoming the offender. Or, if a man did me an injury, why, as people commonly say, I would give him as good as he sent.

3. I had then a farm. A poor man, who lived on adjoining land, neglected to repair a fence which it was his business to keep in order. In consequence of his neglect his sheep got into my wheatfield and did much mischief. So I ordered my man Sam to go to the neighbor and tell him that he must mend the fence and keep the sheep out.

4. But the sheep came in again, and, being a very orderly man myself, I was much provoked. "Sam," said I, "go to that fellow and tell him that, if he does not keep his sheep out of my wheat-field, I will have them shot." Even this threat did not succeed: the sheep were in again.

5. "Sam," said I, "take my gun, and shoot those sheep.-"I had rather not,” replied he.-"Rather not, Sam! why, there are but three. It is no great job."

6. "No, sir; but the poor fellow has only these three sheep in the world, and I do not like to shoot a poor man's sheep."

7. "Then the poor man should take proper care of them. I gave him warning; why did he not mend his fence?"

8. "Well, sir, I guess it was because you sent him a rough kind of a message. It made him angry, and so he would not do it."

9. I reflected a few minutes, and then I told Sam to put the horse in the buggy. "Shall I put in the gun," asked he.

10. "No!" was my reply. A slight smile appeared on his lips, but he said nothing. I got into my buggy and drove up to my neighbor's. He lived a mile off, and I had ample time to think the

matter over.

11. When I drove up to the house the man was chopping wood; there were but few sticks of wood, the house was poor, and my heart was softened. "Neighbor," I called out; the man looked sulky and did not lift up his head. “Come, come, neighbor," said I, "I have come with friendly feelings to you, and you must meet me half-way.

12. He perceived that I was in earnest, laid down his ax, and came to the wagon. "Now, neighbor," said I, "we have both been in the wrong: you neglected your fence, and I got angry and sent you a provoking message. Now let us both face about, and both do right, and feel right. I will forgive, and you shall forgive. Now let us shake hands." He did not feel quite willing to give me his hand, but he let me take it.

13. "Now," said I, "neighbor, drive your sheep down to my south pasture; they shall share with my sheep till next spring; you shall have all the increase, and next summer we will start fair."

14. His hand was no longer dead in mine. He gave me a good, friendly grasp. The tears came into his eyes, and he said, "I think you are a Christian, William Ladd, after all."

15. And that little fracas with my neighbor about the sheep was the first step toward my devoting myself to the American Peace Society.