without being in the least startled by the report. He then went through sword exercises with the same skill.

We staid to supper, to which there came more ladies and gentlemen. Jack again exhibited his cleverness in waiting, at which he acquitted himself as well as any man servant.

X.-GENERAL KOSCIUSKO'S HORSE.

THE celebrated General Kosciusko, a native of Poland, who served as an engineer in the American army during the revolutionary war, was as remarkable for his benevolence and charity as for his bravery. He gave to the poor all that his means allowed, and often more. On one occasion he was prevented by unexpected business from visiting in person and relieving a poor family on the day he had been accustomed to do so. He knew that they would expect him, and was unwilling that they should suffer disappointment. He asked one of his neighbors, an honest farmer, to go to the house with the sum, which he could not carry himself. The farmer readily consented; and the general lent him for the errand the horse which he was himself accustomed to ride.

The farmer executed his commission, but did not return for a considerable time. When he saw General Kosciusko, his first words were, "I will never ride that horse of yours again, unless you give me your purse at the same time." The general, somewhat surprised, asked him what he meant. "Because," replied his friend, "every time a beggar met me in the street, and held out his hat and asked for alms, the horse stood still, and would not budge a foot till I had given him something. Unluckily, I had only two shillings of my own money about me. When this was gone, I could only start your horse by playing a trick upon him, of which I was a little ashamed, by making believe throw a piece of money into the extended hat. Your horse is a very good horse: but he has learned all

your charitable tricks, and will never do for a poor man to ride."

Horses sometimes learn the vices, as well as the virtues, of their masters. In England, a great many years ago, when travellers were often stopped and robbed on the highway, a fine horse was sold to a gentleman at a price which seemed much below his real value. But on taking a little journey with him, the gentleman found that the horse would never pass a stage coach, or a travelling carriage, when on a country road, without stopping short, with his head as near as possible to the door, or side.

The animal had belonged to a noted highwayman, who had been in the habit of robbing carriages by riding up to them, holding a pistol to the heads of the inmates, through the window, and requiring them to give up their purses. The horse had thus learned of his own accord to assist his owner in his unlawful calling. His new master constantly incurred the suspicion of being a highwayman by the conduct of the animal he rode, and was soon compelled to part with his purchase, which was no horse for an honest man to ride, who had no intention of robbing on the highway.

XI. THE DOUBLE PLOT.

THREE hungry travellers found a bag of gold:
One ran into the town where bread was sold.
He thought, "I will poison the bread I buy,
And seize the treasure when my comrades die."
But they too thought, when back his feet have hied,
"We will destroy him, and the gold divide."
They killed him, and, partaking of the bread,
In a few moments all were lying dead.
O world! behold what ill thy goods have done:
Thy gold has poisoned two, and murdered one!

I LOVE it, I love it; and who shall dare

To chide me for loving that old arm chair?

I've treasured it long as a sainted prize,

I've bedewed it with tears, and embalmed it with sighs; "Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart;

Not a tie will break, not a link will start.
Would ye learn the spell? A mother sat there;
And a sacred thing is that old arm chair.

In childhood's hour I lingered near
The hallowed seat with listening ear,

And heeded the words of truth that fell
From the lips of a mother that loved me well;
She told me shame would never betide *
With truth for my creed and God for my guide;
She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer
As I knelt beside that old arm chair.

I sat and watched her many a day,

When her eye grew dim and her locks were gray;
And I almost worshipped her when she smiled,
And turned from her Bible to bless her child.
Years rolled on; but the last one sped-
My idol was shattered, my earth star fled;
I learned how much the heart can bear
When I saw her die in that old arm chair.

'Tis past! 'tis past! but I gaze on it now
With quivering breath and throbbing brow:
'Twas there she nursed me; 'twas there she died;
And memory flows with lava tide.

*Betide, happen.

Say it is folly, and deem me weak,
While the scalding drops start down my
But I love it, I love it, and cannot tear
My soul from my mother's old arm chair.

cheek;

XIII. THE DISHONEST PEASANT.

In the year 1794, a poor French emigrant was passing the winter in a small village in Westphalia.* He was obliged to live with the greatest economy, in order not to go beyond his means. One cold morning he had occasion to buy a load of wood. He found a peasant who had one to sell, and asked him what the price was. The peasant, who perceived by his broken German that he was a foreigner, and that his ignorance might be taken advantage of, answered that the price was three louisd'ors. The Frenchman endeavored to beat him down, but in vain: the peasant would abate nothing of his first demand. The emigrant, finding it useless to waste words with him, and being in immediate and pressing need of the fuel, at last took and paid the money that was asked for it.

The peasant, delighted to have made so good a bargain, drove with his empty cart to the village inn, which was not far distant, and ordered breakfast. While it was getting ready, he entertained the landlord with an account of the way in which he had cheated the Frenchman, and made him payy three louisd'ors for a load of wood which, at the utmost, was not worth more than two dollars; talking as if he had done a very bright thing.

But the landlord was a good man, and, feeling justly indig

*Westphalia, a part of Germany.

A louisd'or, (pronounced lu-e-dore',) literally a louis of gold, is a gold coin of the value of about four dollars and a half.

A German dollar is about seventy-five cents of our money.

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 if you don't pay me, I shall keep your horse and cart until you do. 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.

66

"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