with the deep and awful nature of his undertaking. Suppose there should be any mistake-any scratching out! 9. Young men are adventurous. It is extraordinary what they will rush upon, sometimes. Without even taking the precaution of setting himself down upon his stool, but standing leisurely at the desk, and with a smile upon his face-actually a smile; (there was no mistake about it; Mr. Linkinwater often mentioned it afterwards ;) - Nicholas dipped his pen into the inkstand before him, and plunged into the books of Cheeryble Brothers! 10. Tim Linkinwater turned pale, and, tilting up his stool on the two legs nearest Nicholas, looked over his shoulder in breathless anxiety. Brother Charles and brother Ned entered the counting-house together; but Tim Linkinwater, without looking round, impatiently waved his hand as a caution that profound silence must be observed, and followed the nib of the inexperienced pen with strained and eager eyes. II. The brothers looked on with smiling faces, but Tim Linkinwater smiled not, nor moved for some minutes. At length he drew a long, slow breath, and, still maintaining his position on the tilted stool, glanced at brother Charles, secretly pointed with the feather of his pen towards Nicholas, and nodded his head in a grave and resolute manner, plainly signifying "He'll do." 12. Brother Charles nodded again, and exchanged a laughing look with brother Ned; but, just then Nicholas stopped to refer to some other page, and Tim Linkinwater, unable to contain his satisfaction any longer, descended from his stool, and caught him rapturously by the hand. 13. "He has done it!" said Tim, looking round at his employers and shaking his head triumphantly. "His capital B's and D's are exactly like mine; he dots all his small is and crosses every t as he writes it. There ain't such a young man as this in all London," said Tim, clapping Nicholas on 66 not one. the back; Don't tell me! The city can't pro I challenge the city to do it!" 14. With this casting down of his gauntlet, Tim Linkinwater struck the desk such a blow with his clenched fist that the old blackbird tumbled off his perch with the start it gave him, and actually uttered a feeble croak, in the extremity of his astonishment. 15. "Well said, Tim-well said, Tim Linkinwater!" cried brother Charles, scarcely less pleased than Tim himself, and clapping his hands gently as he spoke, "I knew our young friend would take great pains, and I was quite certain he would succeed in no time. Didn't I say so, brother Ned?" 16. "You did, my dear brother-certainly, my dear brother, you said so, and you were quite right," replied Ned. "Quite right. Tim Linkinwater is excited, but he is justly excited, properly excited. Tim is a fine fellow. Tim Linkinwater, sir-you're a fine fellow." But 17. "Here's a pleasant thing to think of!" said Tim, wholly regardless of this address to himself, and raising his spectacles from the ledger to the brothers. "Here's a pleasant thing. Do you suppose I have n't often thought what would become of these books when I was gone? Do you suppose I have n't often thought that things might go on irregular and untidy here, after I was taken away? now," said Tim, extending his forefinger towards Nicholas, "now, when I've shown him a little more, I'm satisfied. The business will go on, when I am dead, as well as it did when I was alive-just the same; and I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that there never were such books-never were such books! No, nor never will be such books-as the books of Cheeryble Brothers." 18. Having thus expressed his sentiments, Mr. Linkinwater gave vent to a short laugh, indicative of defiance to the cities of London and Westminster, and turning again to his desk, quietly carried seventy-six from the last column he had added up, and went on with his work. 19. "Tim Linkinwater, sir," said brother Charles; "give me your hand, sir. This is your birthday. How dare you talk about any thing else till you have been wished many happy returns of the day, Tim Linkinwater? God bless you, Tim! God bless you!" 66 'My dear brother," said the other, seizing Tim's disengaged fist, "Tim Linkinwater looks ten years younger than he did on his last birthday." 20. "Remember, Tim," said brother Charles, "that we dine at half-past five to-day instead of two o'clock; we always depart from our usual custom on this anniversary, as you very well know, Tim Linkinwater. Mr. Nickleby, my dear sir, you will make one. Tim Linkinwater, give me your snuff-box as a remembrance to brother Ned and myself of an attached and faithful rascal, and take that, in exchange, as a feeble mark of our respect and esteem, and don't open it until you go to bed, and never say another word upon the subject, or I'll kill the blackbird. Now, brother Ned, my dear fellow, I'm ready. At half-past five, remember, Mr. Nickleby! Tim Linkinwater, sir, take care of Mr. Nickleby at half-past five. Now, brother Ned." 21. Chattering away thus, according to custom, to prevent the possibility of any thanks or acknowledgment being expressed on the other side, the twins trotted off, arm in arm, having endowed Tim Linkinwater with a costly gold snuffbox, inclosing a bank-note worth more than its value ten times told. Definitions.-3. Ăe qui si'tion, the act of obtaining. 4. Chir'rup, to make a short, sharp sound with the mouth after the manner of birds or crickets. 14. Gauntlet, a glove of mail used as a defense for the hand, in ancient warfare. To throw down this glove was to offer a challenge to battle. Hence the use of the word here, meaning the opposing of one's opinion against that of other people. NOTE. From the novel of "Nicholas Nickleby." Timothy Linkinwater is represented as the old and attached book-keeper of Cheeryble Brothers, and Nicholas Nickleby as a well-educated young man and the hero of the story. This is one of the best of Dickens' novels, being freer from exaggeration than most of his other works, and sustaining a more completely developed plot than is usual with him. 83. HASTE NOT! REST NOT! JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GÖTHE (1749–1832) was born in Germany. He studied at Leipsic, and, graduating in 1771, went to Frankfort with the intention of becoming an advocate; but he soon drifted into literature, and, creating a new school, is now characterized by his German admirers as the greatest literary power the world has ever seen." His works vary greatly in force and in moral tone, but Faust, Wilhelm Meister, Werther, and his unrivaled Lyrics belong to the realm of pure literature, and take rank with the best works of any country. Göthe boasted of his many-sided character, but this at times became a real defect. His private life was not irreproachable, but was at least in accord with the morals of the time. 1. WITHOUT haste! without rest! Bind the motto to thy breast; Storm or sunshine, guard it well! Heed not flowers that round thee bloom, Bear it onward to the tomb! 2. Haste not! Let no thoughtless deed 3. Rest not! Life is sweeping by, ALT. V.-17. Something mighty and sublime When these forms have passed away. 4. Haste not! rest not! calmly wait; Do the right, whate'er betide! 84. THE WOOD-THRUSH. JOHN JAMES AUDUBON (1780-1851), one of the greatest of American naturalists, was born in Louisiana. His father, a French sea-captain, had designed him for the navy; but, recognizing his son's talent for drawing and for natural history, allowed him to pursue his studies as he chose, and aided him personally in many ways. Audubon's life-work, The Birds of America, was published in four volumes, the first issued in 1830, and the last in 1839. The price was $1000 per set, and, though he had great difficulty in securing subscribers, he never became discouraged. Audubon was a man of striking personality. While devotedly attached to his family, he never seemed so happy as when preparing for a journey through the forests. He may be regarded as the typical lover of nature. 1. THIS bird is my greatest favorite of the feathered tribes of the woods. To it I owe much. How often has it revived my drooping spirits when I have listened to its wild notes in the forest, after passing a restless night in my slender bed, so feebly secured against the violence of the storm as to show me the futility of my best efforts to rekindle my little fire, whose uncertain and vacillating light had gradually died away under the destructive weight of the dense torrents of rain that seemed to involve the heavens and the earth in |