coaches, on the day preceding Christmas. The coach was crowded, both inside and out, with passengers, who, by their talk, seemed principally bound to the mansions of their relations or friends to eat the Christmas dinner. It was loaded also with hampers of game, and baskets and boxes of delicacies; and hares hung dangling their long ears about the coachman's box-presents from distant friends for the impending feast. I had three fine rosy-cheeked schoolboys for my fellowpassengers inside, full of the buxom health and manly spirit which I have observed in the children of this country. They were returning home for the holidays in high glee, and promising themselves a world of enjoyment. It was delightful to hear the gigantic plans of pleasure of the little rogues, and the impracticable feats they were to perform during their six weeks' emancipation from the abhorred thraldom of book, birch, and pedagogue. They were full of anticipations of the meeting with the family and household, down to the very cat and dog; and of the joy they were to give their little sisters by the presents with which their pockets were crammed; but the meeting to which they seemed to look forward with the greatest impatience was with Bantam, which I found to be a pony, and, according to their talk, possessed of more virtues than any steed since the days of Bucephalus. How he could trot! how he could run and then, such leaps as he would take ! -there was not a hedge in the whole country that he could not clear. They were under the particular guardianship of the coachman, to whom, whenever an opportunity presented, they addressed a host of questions, and pronounced him one of the best fellows in the whole world. Indeed, I could not but notice the more than ordinary air of bustle and importance of the coachman, who wore his hat a little on one side, and had a large bunch of Christmas greens stuck in the button-hole of his coat. He is always a personage full of mighty care and business, but he is particularly so during this season, having so many commissions to execute in consequence of the great interchange of presents. The coachman has commonly a broad, full face, curiously mottled with red, as if the blood had been forced by hard feeding into every vessel of the skin; and his bulk is increased by a multiplicity of coats, in which he is buried like a cauliflower, the upper one reaching to his heels. He wears a broad-brimmed, low-crowned hat; a huge roll of coloured handkerchief about his neck, knowingly knotted and tucked in at the bosom; and has in summer-time a large bouquet of flowers in his button-hole. His waistcoat is commonly of some bright colour, striped; and his small-clothes extend far below the knees, to meet a pair of jockeyboots which reach about half-way up his legs. Perhaps it might be owing to the pleasing M serenity that reigned in my own mind, that I fancied I saw cheerfulness in every countenance throughout the journey. A stage-coach, however, carries animation always with it, and puts the world in motion as it whirls along. The horn, sounded at the entrance of a village, produces a general bustle. Some hasten forth to meet friends; some with bundles and bandboxes to secure places, and in the hurry of the moment can hardly take leave of the group that accompanies them. In the meantime the coachman has a world of small commissions to execute. Sometimes he delivers a hare or pheasant; sometimes jerks a small parcel or newspaper to the door of a public-house; and sometimes, with knowing leer and words of sly import, hands to some half-laughing half-blushing housemaid, an odd-shaped billet-doux from some rustic admirer. As the coach rattles through the village, every one runs to the window, and you have glances on every side of fresh country faces, and blooming, giggling girls. At the corners are assembled groups of village idlers and wise men. who take their stations there for the important purpose of seeing company pass; but the sagest knot is generally at the blacksmith's, to whom the passing of the coach is an event fruitful of much speculation. The smith, with the horse's heel in his lap, pauses as the vehicle whirls by; the cyclops round the anvil suspend their ringing hammers, and suffer the iron to grow cool; and the sooty spectre in brown paper cap, labouring at the bellows, leans on the handle for a moment while he glares through the murky smoke of the smithy. Bucephalus. The famous horse of Alexander the Great. He was offered to his father Philip, who, however, grudged the price asked. Alexander desired to be allowed to mount him, and, to the astonishment of all, the steed was quite submissive to the boy. The horse was at once purchased, and accompanied Alexander in several of his campaigns. The horn sounded at the entrance of a village.-In the old days of travelling by stage-coach, the entrance to any village or country town was a most imposing affair. The horses were driven slowly for some time before approaching the village, and then, when the outskirts were reached, they were driven at a smart trot right up to the door of the inn, where the horses were to be changed; the guard, the meanwhile, dressed in scarlet coat, standing up in his seat, and blowing a horn, or sometimes a trumpet. The cyclops. These were the workmen of Vulcan, the god of fire. They were employed in forging thunder-bolts for the gods. Hence the word came to be applied, as in the lesson, to smiths. QUESTIONS:-1. What is a stage-coach? 2. Why is it so called? 3. What season of the year is spoken about in the lesson? 4. What signs of the season were visible about the coach? 5, Who were the traveller's companions on this journey? 6. What plans of amusement were they forming? 7. Who was Bucephalus? 8. Describe the coachman. 9. What is the horn mentioned in the lesson ? 10. When is it usually sounded? 11. What effect does it produce? 12. Who were the cyclops? 13. Who are meant by the cyclops in the lesson? LESSON XLV. The Story of Horatius. a-thwart', across. con'-stant, firm, resolute. cra'-ven, cowardly. crest, the badge on the helmet. dam, a mole, anything obstructing the water. har'-ness, all his armour. deign'-ing, condescending, not worth one's while. plied, used. rap'-tu-rous, exulting, joyful. surge, the billows. BUT meanwhile axe and lever Have manfully been plied; And now the bridge hangs tottering "Come back, come back, Horatius!" 66 Loud cried the fathers all. Back, Lartius; back, Herminius! Back, ere the ruins fall!" Back darted Spurius Lartius; Herminius darted back: And, as they passed, beneath their feet And on the farther shore Saw brave Horatius stand alone, They would have crossed once more. But with a crash like thunder Fell every loosened beam, And, like a dam, the mighty wreck And a long shout of triumph Rose from the walls of Rome, |