nant at the peasant's conduct, told him that he ought to be ashamed of himself thus to have taken advantage of the ignorance of a poor foreigner. "Well," said the peasant, with a scornful laugh," the wood was mine; I had a right to ask just what I pleased for it, and nobody has a right to call my conduct in question."

The landlord made no reply. When breakfast was over, the peasant asked how much was to pay. The landlord replied, Three louisd'ors."

"What," said the peasant, "three louisd'ors for a cup of coffee and a few slices of bread and butter!" "Yes," said the landlord, with the utmost composure; "the coffee and bread and butter were mine; I have a right to ask just what I please for them. My bill is three louisd'ors; and I shall keep your horse and cart until you pay me. If you think I am charging you too much, you can go before the judge."

The peasant, without saying any thing more, went to the judge's office, and made his complaint. The judge was surprised and indignant at the landlord's extortion, especially as he had always borne an excellent character.

He ordered him to be brought before him, and his reception of him was somewhat stern. But the landlord told him the whole story-how the peasant had taken advantage of the poor emigrant's ignorance to cheat him, what their conversation was, and how his own conduct was simply visiting upon the head of a dishonest man the wrong he had previously done to another.

Under such circumstances, the judge decided that the landlord had done right, and that the peasant should pay the three louisd'ors. The peasant, with a very ill grace, and with shame and anger in his face, drew out his purse and laid the money on the table.

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"I do not want this money," said the landlord to the judge, as your honor may well suppose. Will you have the goodness to change one of these louisd'ors, and give the peasant

two dollars out of it, for that, as he confessed to me, is all that his wood is worth,- and return the remainder to the poor Frenchman. For the breakfast I want nothing."

The judge was much moved at these words of the good innkeeper. He counted out the two dollars to the peasant, and dismissed him with a severe rebuke. The rest was returned to the emigrant, who, on hearing the story, with difficulty prevailed upon the innkeeper to accept a small sum for the peasant's breakfast.

THOU art no lingerer in monarch's hall:
A joy thou art and a wealth to all;
A bearer of hope unto land and sea ;
Sunbeam, what gift hath the world like thee?

Thou art walking the billows, and ocean smiles;
Thou hast touched with glory his thousand isles ;
Thou hast lit up the ships, and the feathery foam,
And gladdened the sailor like words from home.

To the solemn depths of the forest shades

Thou art streaming on through their green arcades,
And the quivering leaves that have caught thy glow
Like fireflies glance to the pools below.

I looked on the mountains: a vapor lay
Folding their heights in its dark array;
Thou brakest forth, and the mist became
A crown and a mantle of living flame.

I looked on the peasant's lowly cot:
Something of sadness had wrapped the spot;

But a gleam of thee on its casement fell,
And it laughed into beauty at that bright spell.

Sunbeam of summer, O, what is like thee,
Hope of the wilderness, joy of the sea?
One thing is like thee, to mortals given
The faith touching all things with hues of heaven.

XV.-FLOWERS.

O, THEY look upward in every place
Through this beautiful world of ours,

And dear as a smile on an old friend's face
Is the smile of the bright, bright flowers!
They tell us of wanderings by woods and streams;
They tell us of lanes and trees;

But the children of showers and sunny beams

Have lovelier tales than these

The bright, bright flowers!

They tell of a season when men were not,
When earth was by angels trod,
And leaves and flowers in every spot

Burst forth at the call of God;

When spirits, singing their hymns at even,

Wandered by wood and glade;

And the Lord looked down from the highest heaven

And blessed what he had made

The bright, bright flowers.

That blessing remaineth upon them still,
Though often the storm cloud lowers,
And frequent tempests may soil and chill
The gayest of earth's fair flowers.

When Sin and Death, with their sister Grief,
Made a home in the hearts of men,
The blessing of God on each tender leaf
Preserved in their beauty, then,

The bright, bright flowers.

The lily is lovely as when it slept

On the waters of Eden's lake;

The woodbine breathes sweetly as when it crept,

In Eden, from brake to brake.

They were left as a proof of the loveliness
Of Adam and Eve's first home;

They are here as a type of the joys that bless
The just in the world to come

The bright, bright flowers.

XVI. THE SPRING TIME.

O, TAKE me from this close dark room, from this uneasy bed;
The clothes, so gray and shroud-like, lie on my breast like lead ;
The ancient ebon wardrobe, and the pictures on the wall,
And the ticking of the watch, mother, I'm weary of them all.

O, take me where the glad free air may visit me again,
And the pleasant sunshine soothe the sullen throb of pain;
Where I may see the grass, and hear the robins on the bough,
And feel the breath of the early spring upon my cheek and
brow.

Then bear me from this dreary room, where every thing I see
Recalls some hour of anguish, or some dream of agony,
When you have bent above me, mother, and listened to my moan,
And felt the pangs of your dying child more keenly than your

own.

Then lay me on that primrose bank it was my favorite seat:
I planted it and watered it- how clean it was, and neat !
The flowers are all neglected now - the weeds have grown so

fast:

I little thought that happy, happy summer was my last.

-

How delicate the air is! All the flowers are coming out-
The glad spring flowers to fling their stores of sweetness

round about:

The bee is on the wing, the merry swallow sweeps the sky, The gnat hums in the sunbeam, mother-all things are glad but I.

Last spring I was so happy! the linnet on the bough,

The wild bee, was not half so gay; and I am dying now.

I crowned me with the May blooms then, I revelled in the flowers,

And only by the joys they knew, counted the passing hours.

Bring me my young geranium, mother, for I want to see
My little favorite- how it grows if any flowers there be;
Look! there's a bud- but O, I shall not live to bless its bloom;
"Twill be so strong and beautiful when I am in the tomb!

I always dearly loved the flowers-let heaps of them be

spread

Upon me in my coffin cold

the living with the dead; And do, dear mother, see that on my little grave is set

My own sweet lilac bush, and plant of purple violet.

And sometimes, in such days as this, so glad, and bright, and

mild,

Dear mother, will you come and sit by the grave bed of your

child?

And will you bring this sweet geranium? though you may

never see,

I will look down from heaven, and listen while you talk to me.