And instantly a dog is seen,
Glancing through that covert green.

The dog is not of mountain breed;
Its motions, too, are wild and shy,
With something, as the shepherd thinks,
Unusual in its cry..

Nor is there any one in sight,

All round, in hollow or on height;
Nor shout nor whistle strikes his ear;-
What is the creature doing here?

It was a cove, a huge recess,

That keeps till June December's snow; A lofty precipice in front,

A silent tarn below;

Far in the bosom of Helvellyn,
Remote from public road or dwelling,
Pathway or cultivated land,

From trace of human foot or hand.

There sometimes doth a leaping fish
Send through the tarn a lonely cheer;
The crags repeat the raven's croak,
In symphony austere:

Thither the rainbow comes; the cloud;
And mists that spread the flying shroud;
And sunbeams; and the sounding blast,
That, if it could, would hurry past,
But that enormous barrier binds it fast.

Not free from boding thoughts, a while

The shepherd stood; then makes his way

O'er rocks and stones, following the dog
As quickly as he may;

Nor far had gone before he found
A human skeleton on the ground!
The appalled discoverer, with a sigh,
Looks round to learn the history.

From those abrupt and perilous rocks
The man had fallen-that place of fear!
At length upon the shepherd's mind
It breaks, and all is clear:

He instantly recalled the name,

And who he was and whence he came;
Remembered, too, the very day

On which the traveller passed this way.

But hear a wonder, for whose sake
This lamentable tale I tell;

A lasting monument of words

This wonder merits well:

The dog, which still was hovering nigh,

Repeating the same timid cry—

This dog had been through three months' space

A dweller in that savage place.

Yes, proof was plain tnat since the day

When this ill-fated traveller died,

The dog had watched about the spot,

Or by his master's side;

How nourished here through such long time,
He knows who gave that love sublime,
And gave that strength of feeling great
Above all human estimate.

WORDSWORTH.

ANDROCLES AND THE LION.

THERE was a certain slave named Androcles, who was so ill treated by his master that his life became insupportable. Finding no remedy for what he suffered, he at length said to himself, "It is better to die than to continue to live in such hardships and misery as I am obliged to suffer. I am determined, therefore, to run away from my master. If I am taken again, I know that I shall be punished with a cruel death; but it is better to die at once than to live in misery. If I escape, I must betake myself to deserts and woods, inhabited only by wild beasts; but they cannot use me more cruelly than I have been used by my fellow-creatures. Therefore I will rather trust myself with them than continue to be a miserable slave."

Having formed this resolution, he took an opportunity of leaving his master's house, and hid himself in a thick forest, which was at some miles' distance from the city. But here the unhappy man found that he had only escaped from one kind of misery to experience another. He wandered about all day through a vast and trackless wood, where his flesh was continually torn by thorns and brambles. He grew hungry, but could find no food in this dreary solitude. At length he was ready to die with fatigue, and lay down in despair in a large cavern which he found by accident.

This unfortunate man had not lain long quiet in the cavern before he heard a dreadful noise, which seemed to be the roar of some wild beast, and terri

fied him very much. to escape, and had already reached the mouth of the cave, when he saw coming towards him a lion of prodigious size, that prevented any possibility of retreat. The unfortunate man now believed his destruction to be inevitable; but, to his great astonishment, the beast advanced towards him with a gentle pace, without any mark of enmity or rage, and uttered a kind of mournful sound, as if he solicited the assistance of the man.

He started up with a design.

Androcles, who was naturally of a resolute disposition, acquired courage from this circumstance to examine his monstrous visitor, who gave him sufficient leisure for that purpose. He saw, as the lion approached him, that he seemed to limp upon one of his legs, and that the foot was extremely swelled, as if it had been wounded. Acquiring still more fortitude from the gentle demeanour of the beast, he went up to him, and took hold of the wounded paw, as a surgeon would examine a patient. He then perceived that a thorn of uncommon size had penetrated the ball of the foot, and was the occasion of the swelling and lameness which he had observed. Androcles found that the beast, far from resenting such familiarity, received it with the greatest gentleness, and seemed, by his blandishments, to invite him. to proceed. He therefore extracted the thorn, and, pressing the swelling, discharged a considerable quantity of matter, which had been the cause of much pain and uneasiness.

As soon as the beast felt himself thus relieved, he began to testify his joy and gratitude by every expression within his power. He jumped about like a

wanton spaniel, wagged his enormous tail, and licked the feet and hands of his physician. Nor was he contented with these demonstrations of kindness: from that moment Androcles became his guest; nor did the lion ever sally forth in quest of prey without bringing home the produce of his chase, and sharing it with his friend. In this savage state of hospitality did the man continue to live during the space of several months. At length, wandering unguardedly through the woods, he met with a company of soldiers sent out to apprehend him, and was by them taken prisoner, and conducted back to his master.

The laws of that country being very severe against slaves, he was tried, and found guilty of having fled from his master; and, as a punishment for his pretended crime, he was sentenced to be torn in pieces. by a furious lion, kept many days without food, to inspire him with additional rage.

When the destined moment arrived, the unhappy man was exposed, unarmed, in the midst of a spacious area, enclosed on every side, around which many thousand people were assembled to view the mournful spectacle.

Presently a dreadful yell was heard, which struck the spectators with horror; and a monstrous lion rushed out of a den, which was purposely set open, and darted forward, with erect mane, and flaming eyes, and jaws that gaped like an open sepulchre. A mournful silence instantly prevailed. All eyes were turned upon the destined victim, whose destruction now seemed inevitable. But the pity of the multitude was soon converted into astonishment, when they beheld the lion, instead of destroying his defenceless.