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. XIV. -THE SUNBEAM. MRS. HEMANS. THOU art no lingerer in monarch's hall: Thou art walking the billows, and ocean smiles; To the solemn depths of the forest shades Thou art streaming on through their green arcades, I looked on the mountains: a vapor lay I looked on the peasant's lowly cot: But a gleam of thee on its casement fell, Sunbeam of summer, O, what is like thee, XV.-FLOWERS. O, THEY look upward in every place And dear as a smile on an old friend's face 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, 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, When Sin and Death, with their sister Grief, 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 They are here as a type of the joys that bless The bright, bright flowers. XVI. THE SPRING TIME. O, TAKE me from this close dark room, from this uneasy bed; O, take me where the glad free air may visit me again, And the rich evening sun ray 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 own. I planted it and watered it- how clean it was, and neat! fast: the weeds have grown so I little thought that happy, happy summer was my last. How delicate the air is! round about: All the flowers are coming out -- 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, 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 I always dearly loved the flowers-let heaps of them be. spread Upon me in my coffin cold the living with the dead; 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. My walnut tree, too, watch it well when I am gone away : I wish it was the autumn; 'twould be less sad to die When the rich green leaves and the glorious flowers fade as well as I; But in this merry month of May, when all things are awake, Pray for me, mother, to endure, O pray, for pity's sake. XVII. - ANECDOTES OF DOGS. THE dog stands to man in the relation both of a valuable servant and an engaging companion. In many employments, especially those of shepherds and herdsmen, he performs services of great importance, such as could not be supplied without him. In those sports of the field, such as hunting and shooting, which many persons pursue with such eagerness, the assistance of the dog is essential to success. By his keenness of scent he discovers the game, and by his swiftness of foot he runs it down. There is no period of time recorded by history in which we do not find the dog the friend and the servant of man; nor is there any literature which does not contain some tribute to his faithfulness and sagacity. The savage, roaming over the pathless wilderness, and dependent upon the animals in the forest and the fish in the streams for his daily food, and the civilized man, dwelling in a comfortable house in a town or village, agree in the attachment they feel for their four-footed friends. Many men of great eminence in literature and science have been remarkable for their fondness for dogs; and more than one poet has sung the praises of particular specimens of the race. Sir Walter Scott was strongly attached to them, and had one or more of them |