led into a spacious amphitheater, (if I may so call it,) still deeper than any other part, we returned, and being provided with a ladder, flambeau, and other things to expedite our descent, our whole company, man by man, ventured into the same opening; and, descending one after another, we at last saw ourselves all together in the most magnificent part of the cavern.

10. "Our candles being now all lighted up, and the whole place completely illuminated, never could the eye be presented with a more glittering or a more magnificent scene; the whole roof hung with solid icicles, transparent as glass, yet solid as marble.

11. "The eye could scarcely reach the lofty and noble ceiling; the sides were regularly formed with spars; and the whole presented the idea of a magnificent theater, illuminated with an immense profusion of lights. The floor consisted of solid marble; and, in several places, magnificent columns, thrones, altars, and other objects, appeared, as if nature had designed to mock the curiosities of art.

12. "Our voices, upon speaking or singing, were redoubled, to an astonishing loudness; and upon the firing of a gun, the noise and reverberations were almost deafening. In the midst of this grand amphitheater rose a concretion of about fifteen feet high, that, in some measure, resembled an altar; from which, taking the hint, we caused mass to be celebrated there. The beautiful columns that shot up around the altar appeared like candlesticks; and many other natural objects represented the customary ornaments of this rite.

13. "Below even this spacious grotto, there seemed another cavern; down which I ventured with my former mariner, and descended about fifty paces, by means of a rope. I at last arrived at a small spot of level ground, where the bottom appeared different from that of the amphitheater, being composed of soft clay, yielding to the pressure, and in which I thrust a stick to the depth of six feet.

14. "In this, however, as above, numbers of the most beautiful crystals were formed; one of which, particularly, resembled a table. Upon our egress from this amazing cavern, we perceived a Greek inscription upon a rock at the mouth, but so obliterated by time that we could not read it distinctly.

It seems to import that one Antipater, in the time of Alexander, had come hither; but whether he penetrated into the depths of the cavern, he does not see fit to inform us." This account of so beautiful and striking a scene may serve to give us some idea of the subterraneous wonders of nature.

EXERCISE II. THE THUNDER STORM.

FROM THOMSON.

JAMES THOMSON was born in Scotland, in 1700. His fame rests chiefly on the poem of "The Seasons," which will ever be popular through its vivid descriptions of natural scenery. He died at Kew, in 1748.

1. As from the face of heaven the shatter'd clouds

Tumultuous rove, the interminable sky

Sublimer swells, and o'er the world expands

A purer azure.

2. Through the lighten'd air

A higher luster and a clearer calm,
Diffusive, tremble; while, as if in sign
Of danger past, a glittering robe of joy,
Set off abundant by the yellow ray,
Invests the fields; and nature smiles reviv'd.

3. 'T is beauty all, and grateful song around,
Join'd to the low of kine, and numerous bleat
Of flocks thick-nibbling through the clover'd vale;
And shall the hymn be marr'd by thankless Man,
Most favor'd! who with voice articulate
Should lead the chorus of this lower world?
Shall he, so soon forgetful of the Hand
That hush'd the thunder, and serenes the sky,
Extinguish'd feel that spark the tempest wak'd,
That sense of power, exceeding far his own,
Ere yet his feeble heart has lost its fears?

EXERCISE III..

DESCRIPTION OF A STORM.
FROM D'ISRAELI.

D'ISRAELI is an English writer, who first distinguished himself as an author, but has, for several years, devoted himself to politics. He has been a member of the English ministry and of Parliament.

1. * * * THEY looked round on every side, and hope gave way before the scene of desolation. Immense branches were shivered from the largest trees; small ones were entirely stripped of their leaves; the long grass was bowed to the earth; the waters were whirled in eddies out of the little rivulets; birds, leaving their nests to seek shelter in the crevices of the rocks, unable to stem the driving air, flapped their wings and fell upon the earth; the frightened animals of the plain, almost suffocated by the impetuosity of the wind, sought safety, and found destruction; some of the largest trees were torn up by the roots; the sluices of the mountains were filled, and innumerable torrents rushed down the before empty gullies. The heavens now open, and the lightning and thunder contend with the horrors of the wind.

2. In a moment, all was again hushed. Dead silence succeeded the bellow of the thunder, the roar of the wind, the rush of the waters, the moaning of the beasts, the screaming of the birds! Nothing was heard save the plash of the agitated lake, as it beat up against the black rocks which girt it in.

3. Again, greater darkness enveloped the trembling earth. Anon, the heavens were rent with lightning, which nothing could have quenched but the descending deluge. Cataracts poured down from the lowering firmanent. For an instant, the horses dashed madly forward; beast and rider blinded and stifled by the gushing rain, and gasping for breath. Shelter was nowhere. The quivering beasts reared, and snorted, and sank upon their knees, dismounting their riders.

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4. He had scarcely spoken, when there burst forth a terrific noise, they knew not what; a rush, they could not understand; a vibration which shook them on their horses. Every terror sank before the roar of the cataract. It seemed that the

mighty mountain, unable to support its weight of waters, shook to the foundation. A lake had burst upon its summit, and the cataract became a falling ocean. The source of the great deep appeared to be discharging itself over the range of mountains; the great gray peak tottered on its foundation!It shook it fell! and buried in its ruins, the castle, the vil. lage, and the bridge!

1. UNBRIDLED SPIRIT, thron'd upon the lap
Of ebon Midnight, whither dost thou stray?
Whence didst thou come, and where is thy abode?
From slumber I awaken at the sound

Of thy most melancholy voice; sublime,

Thou ridest on the rolling clouds, which take
The form of sphinx, or hippogriff, or car,
Like those of Roman conquerors of yore,
In Nemean pastimes us'd, by fiery steeds
Drawn headlong on; or choosest, all unseen,
To ride the vault, and drive the murky storms
Before thee, or bow down, with giant wing,
The wondering forests as thou sweepest by!

2. Daughter of Darkness! when remote the noise
Of tumult, and of discord, and mankind;
When but the watch-dog's voice is heard, or wolves
That bay the silent night, or from the tower,
Ruin'd and rent, the note of boding owl,

3.

Or lapwing's shrill and solitary cry;

When sleep weighs down the eyelids of the world,
And life is as it were not; down the sky

Forth from thy cave, wide-roaming, thou dost come
To hold nocturnal orgies.

Behold!

Stemming with eager prow the Atlantic tide,
Holds on the intrepid mariner; abroad

The wings of night brood shadowy; heave the waves

Around him, mutinous, their curling heads,

Portentous of a storm; all hands are plied,
A zealous task, and sounds the busy deck
With notes of preparation; many an eye
Is upward cast toward the clouded heaven;

4.

5.

6.

And many a thought, with troubled tenderness,
Dwells on the calm tranquility of home;

And many a heart its supplicating prayer

Breathes forth; meanwhile, the boldest sailor's cheek

Blanches; stout courage fails; young childhood's shriek, Awfully piercing, bursts; and woman's fears

Are speechless.

With a low, insidious moan,

Rush past the gales that harbinger thy way,
And hail thy advent; gloom the murky clouds
Darker around; and heave the maddening waves
Higher their crested summits. With a glare,
Unvailing but the clouds and foaming sea,
Flashes the lightning; then, with doubling peal,
Reverberating to the gates of heaven,

Rolls the deep thunder, with tremendous crash,
Sublime as if the firmament were rent

Amid the severing clouds that pour their storms,
Commingling sea and sky.

Disturb'd, arise

The monsters of the deep, and wheel around
Their mountainous bulk unwieldly, while aloft,
Pois'd on the feathery summit of the wave,
Hangs the frail bark, its howlings of despair,
Lost on the mocking storm. Then frantic, thou
Dost rise, tremendous Power, thy wings unfurl'd;
Unfurl'd, but not to succor nor to save:
Then is thine hour of triumph; with a yell
Thou rushest on; and with a maniac tone

Sing'st in the rifted shroud; the straining mast
Yields, and the cordage cracks.

Thou churn'st the deep

To madness, tearing up the yellow sands
From their profound recesses, and dost strew
The clouds around thee, and within thy hand
Tak'st up the billowy tide, and dashest down
The vessel to destruction!- She is not!-
But when the morning lifts her dewy eye,
And to a quiet calm, the elements,
Subsiding from their fury, have dispers'd,
There art thou, like a satiate conqueror,
Recumbent on the murmuring deep, thy smiles
All unrepentant of the savage wreck.