pious exercises, to which he had consecrated the remainder of his days.

From Valladolid, he continued his journey to Plazencia in Estremadura. He had passed through that city a great many years before; and having been struck at that time with the delightfol situation of the monastery of St. Justus, belonging to the order of St. Jerume, not many miles distant from that place, he had then observed to some of his attendants, that this was a spot to which Dioclesian might have retired with pleasure. The impression had remained so strong on his mind, that he pitched upon it as the place of his retreat. It was seated in a vale of no great extent, watered by a small brook, and surrounded by rising grouads, covered with lofty trees. From the nature of the soil, as well as the temperature of the climate, it was esteemed the most healthful and delicious situa. tion in Spain. Some months before his resignation, he had sent an architect thither, to add a new apartment to the mo:iastery, for his accommodation; but he gave strict orders that the style of the building should be such as suited his present station rather than his former dignity. It consisted only of six rooms, four of them in the form of friars' cells, with naked walls; the other two, each twenty feet square, were hung with brown cloth, and furnished in the sost simple manner. They were all on a level with the ground; with a door on one side into a garden, of which Charles him. self had given the plan, and bad filled it with various plants, which he propsed to cultivate with his own hands. On the other side, they communicated with the chapel of the monastery, in which he was to perform his devutions. Into this hurble retreat, hardly sufficient for the comfortable accommodation of a private gentleman, did Charles enter, with twelve domestics oply. He buried there, in solitude and silenre, his grandure, his ambiti::07, together with all those vast projects, which during half a century, had alarned and igitated Europe ; filling every kingdoma in it, by turns, with the terror of his arms, and the dread of being subjected to his power.

In this retirement, Charles formed such a plan of life for himself, as would have suited the condition ot a private person of a moderate fortune. His ta. ble was oeat but plain; his domestics few; his intercourse with them familiar; all the cumbersome and ceremonious forms of alteodaoce on his person were entirely abolished, as destructive of that social case and tranquillity, which he courted, in order to sooth the remainder of his days. As the mildoess of the climate, together with his deliverance from the burdens and cares of governmedi, procured him, at first, a considerable remission from the acute paips with which he had been long tormented, he enjoyed, perhaps, more complete satisfaction in this humble solitude, than all his grandeur had ever yielded hin. The ambitious thoughts and projects which had so long engrossed aod disquieted him, were quite effaced from his mjod. Far from laking any part io the political transactions of Europe, he restrained his curiosity eveo from any inquiry concerning them; and he seemed to view the busy scene which he had abandoned, with all the contempt and indifference arising from his thor. ough experience of its vanity, as well as from the pleasing reflection of having disentangled himself from its cares. .

DR. ROBERTSON.

PART II.

PIECES IN POETRY.

CHAPTER I.

SELECT SENTENCES AND PARAGRAPHS.

SECTION I,
Short and easy sentences.

Education.
TIS education forms the common mind;
Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclin'd.

Candour
With pleasure let us own our errors past;
And make each day a critic on the last.

Riflection.
A soul without reflection, ike a pile
Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.

Secret vir tue.
The private path, the secret acts of men,
If noble, far the noblest of their lives.

Necessary knowledge easily attuinea'.
Our needful knowledge, like our needfur food,
Unledgd, lies open in life's common field ;
And bids all welcome to the vital feast.

Disappointment.
Disappoint.nent lurks in many a prize,
As bees in iow'rs, and stings us with success.

NOTE.

In the first chapter the Compiler has exhibited a coasiderable variety of poetical construction, for the young reader's preparatory exercise.

S

Virtuous elevation.
The mind that would be happy, musi be great ;
Great in its wishes ; great in its surveys.
Extended views a narrow mind extend

Natural and fanciful life.
Who lives to nature rarely can be poor;
Who lives to fancy, never can be rich.

Charity.
m faith and hope the world will disagree ;
But all mankind's concern is charity.

The prize of virtue.
What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy,
The soul's calm sunshine, and the heart-felt joy,
Is Virtue's prize.

Sense and modesty connected.
Distrustful sense with modest caution speaks ;
It still looks home, and short excursions makes ;
But rattlin nonsense in full volleys breaks.

Moral discipline salutary.
Heav'n gives us friends to bless che present scene;
Resumes them to prepare us for the next.
All evils natural are moral goods ;
All discipline, indulgence, on the whole.

Present blessings undervalued.
Like birds, whose beauties languish, halt conceal'd
Till, mounted on the wing, their glossy plumes
Expanded shine with azure, green, and gold,
How blessings brighten as they take their flight!

Hope.
Hope, of all passions most befriends us here ; •
Passions of prouder name befriend us less.
Joy has her tears, and transport has her dealh ;
Hope, like a cordial, innocent, thuugb strong,
Man's heart, at once, inspirits and serenies.

Happiness modest and tranquil.

Never man was truly blest,
But it compos'd, and gave him such a cast
As folly might mistake for want of joyi
A cast unlike the triumph of the proud ;
A modest aspect, and a smile at heart.

True greatness.
Who noble ends, by noble means obtains,
Or failing, smiles in exile or in chains,
Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed
Like Socrates, that man is great indeed.