right arm held straight up; the fingers very little curved; the left arm extended from the person; the hand open, palm up.

Fig. 17.-ADORATION.-The right foot moderately advanced; the attitude gracefully easy; the right arm bent at the elbow, the thumb being on a level with the shoulder; the hand open, the palm outward; the left arm hanging down perpendicular with, and a short distance from, the side; the hand nearly open, the palm down; the head slightly thrown back; the eyes upturned.

Fig. 18.-CURSING.-The feet slightly separated, the right foot very little in advance; the right arm extended straight from the body, in the direction of the thing or person addressed; the hand almost open, fingers slightly contracted; the left arm stiffly at the side, some distance from the person, palm of open hand to the front; shoulders well back; head erect; lips wearing a fierce expression; eyes glancing malignantly.

Fig. 19.-RESOLUTION.-The heels well together; the form straight; the left arm nearly perpendicular with the body, and about nine inches from it; the right arm, as far as the elbow, close to the body, from the elbow rather extended out; the palms of both hands turned down; the head held firmly, but not boastingly erect.

Fig. 20.-ADMIRATION.-The right foot very slightly advanced; the left knee bent a little so as to bring the figure into an easy, agreeable posture; the form quite erect; the shoulders well back; the right arm stretched out on a level with the breast; the hand open, and the index finger pointed at the object spoken of (or to); the left arm close to the hip, but from the hip slightly extended from the body; the hand expanded and palm down.

Fig. 21.-REGRET.-The right foot forward; the legs well together; the right arm nearly perpendicular with the body; the hand about one foot from the thigh; nearly open; the left arm close to the body to the elbow; the head turned a little backward, over the right shoulder, and very slightly inclined forward; the eyes gazing on the distance.

Fig. 22.-DISDAIN.-The weight of the body resting on the right foot, the left foot merely touching the toe to

the ground; the right arm extended at full length, straight from the shoulder; the hand open, palm down; the left arm a little from the side; the hand extended, the palm down; the body proudly erect; the face turned to the right; the eyes following the pointing of the extended right

hand.

Fig. 23.-APPEAL.-Right foot a little in advance; left knee very slightly bent; shoulders thrown back somewhat; face a little upturned; eyes lifted heavenward; right arm extended; hand open, and a little above the level of the forehead; left arm extended almost horizontally, so as to bring the wrist just below the belt; the hand open, palm upward.

SELECT READINGS.

"THE PRIDE OF BATTERY B."

[Mr. Cassaway, whose nom de plume is Derrick Dodd, is employed on the edi. torial staff of the San Francisco Post. His fame as a witty and pathetic writer is not confined to this country, his writings having received marked and favor. able attention in England. This poem is a gem of the purest ray serene". recounts an incident of the late civil war. A little orphan child, a war waif, adopted by a battery of the Southern troops, is so distressed by the failure of the tobacco supplies of her whilom guardians, that she escapes from her tent, and, crossing to the enemy's entrenchment, begs a supply from the Yankee soldiers. The latter send her back well supplied with the weed so dear to the soldier's heart, and during the rest of the engagement the gunners on the Yankee side refuse to direct their shells in the vicinity of the child's detachment. This poem has enjoyed remarkable popularity, and has been widely copied in England and elsewhere.]

South Mountain towered on our right, far off the river lay,
And over on the wooded hight we held their lines at bay.

At last the mutt'ring guns were stilled; the day died slow and wan,
At last the gunners' pipes were filled, the Sergeant's yarns began.
When, as the wind a moment blew aside the fragrant flood
Our brierwoods raised,-within our view a little maiden stood.
A tiny tot of six or seven, from fireside fresh she seemed
(Of such a little one in heaven one soldier often dreamed).
And, as we stared, her little hand went to her curly head

In grave salute: "And who are you?" at length the Sergeant said "And where's your home?" he growled again. She lisped out,

"Who is me?

Why, don't you know? I'm little Jane, the Pride of Battery 'B.`
My home? Why, that was burned away, and pa and ma are dead,
And so I ride the guns all day along with Sergeant Ned.

And I've a drum that's not a toy, a cap with feathers, too,
And I march beside the drummer boy on Sundays at review;
But now our 'bacca's all give out, the men can't have their smoke,
And so they're cross-why, even Ned won't play with me and joke,