“Where is thy home, thou lonely man?” I asked a pilgrim gray, Who came, with furrowed brow, and wan, Slow musing on his way. He paused, and with a solemn mien, Upturned his holy eyes,-- “The land I seek thou ne’er hast seen,-- _My_ home is in the skies!” O! blest--thrice blest! the heart must be To whom such thoughts are given, That walks from worldly fetters free,-- Its only home in heaven! [Illustration] Sea-Weed. Every portion of the earth seems covered with vegetation, except now and then some sandy desert. Even the rocks are covered with mosses; and we have heard of little red plants, that take root so thickly in snow-flakes, as to make a fall of snow seem like a shower of blood. The bottom of the sea, too, is sown with myriads of plants. These are of many forms and many hues, but mostly of a green color: it is owing to the plants beneath the surface that the sea has such a verdant tinge. In some tropical portions of the sea, the marine plants are so thick as to obstruct the passage of ships; and some species are said to grow seven hundred feet in length! Inquisitive Jack and his Aunt Piper. There was once a little boy who had neither father nor mother, but he had an excellent aunt, and she supplied the place of parents. Her name was Piper, and a very good woman she was. The boy’s name was John; but, as he was always asking questions, he at length got the name of Inquisitive Jack. He was perpetually teasing his aunt to tell him about the sun, or the moon,--to explain to him why the fire burned, or where the rain came from, or something else of the kind. His aunt, being unmarried, and having little else to do, used to sit down for hours together, and answer little Jack’s inquiries. One winter’s day, they were sitting by a pleasant fire, and Jack had been reading in a book of poetry. After a while, he laid down the book, and asked his aunt why some things were told in poetry and some in prose. To this the good lady replied as follows. “I must tell you, in the first place, my boy, that prose is the language of common speech, such as I am now talking to you. But there are certain thoughts and feelings that are too fine and beautiful for prose. If these were expressed in a common way, their beauty would be lost. I will try to make you understand this by a story. “There were once some flowers growing in a garden, but they were mixed with other plants, such as peas, beans, potatoes, beets, and other things. These had, therefore, a common appearance, and no one noticed their beauty. “At length, the gardener took up these flowers, and set them out in a nice bed of earth, which he had prepared for them. This situation permitted their bright colors and fair forms to be seen, and they therefore attracted the attention of every person who passed by.