drocles stood in the middle of the arena calmly awaiting his fate.

Presently a dreadful roar was heard, which made the spectators start and tremble, and a huge lion sprang out of a den, and darted toward its victim with flashing eyes.

But what was the surprise of the multitude when, instead of springing upon the man and tearing him to pieces, the lion crouched submissively at his feet and fawned upon him like a dog!

The governor of the city, who was present, ordered Androcles to explain how it was that the savage beast had, in a moment, become as harmless as a lamb. In reply, Androcles told the story of his adventures in the woods, and concluded by saying that this was the very lion, which stood by his side.

The spectators were so delighted with the story that they begged the governor to pardon Androcles. This he did, and he also presented him with the lion which had thus twice spared his life.

NOTES FOR STUDY.

AN'DRO CLES, a Greek name, mean

ing a small man.

FA TIGUE', weariness, tiredness.
IN SPIRED', encouraged, cheered.
VEN'TURED, risked, dared.
SURGEON, a doctor who dresses
wounds.

EX TRACT ́ED, pulled out.
QUEST, search.

A RENA, place of exhibition, cen-
ter of a Roman amphitheatre.
CROUCHED, lying low, as in fear or

making ready to leap. FAWNED, showed affection for.

XXI. AN ADVENTURE.

BAYARD TAYLOR.

High up on the lonely mountains,

The Indians watched and waited;

There were wolves in the forest and bears in the bush,

And I on my path belated.

The rain and the night together came down,

And the wind came after,

Bending the props of the pine-tree roof,
And snapping many a rafter.

I crept along in the darkness,

Stunned and bruised and blinded,Crept to a fir with thick-set boughs, And a sheltering rock behind it.

There from the blowing and the raining,
Crouching, I sought to hide me:
Something rustled, two green eyes shone,
And a wolf lay down beside me.

There we two, in the storm and wind,-
I and the wolf together,-

Side by side, through the long, long night,
Hid from the awful weather.

His wet fur pressed against me;

Each of us warmed the other:
Each of us felt, in the stormy dark,
That man and beast were brother.

And when the fallen forest

No longer crashed in warning,
Each of us went from our hiding-place
Forth in the wild, wet morning.

XXII. THE MAN WITH AN AXE TO GRIND.

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.

When I was a little boy, I remember one cold winter's morning I was accosted by a smiling man with an axe on his shoulder.

"My pretty boy," said he, "has your father a grindstone?"

"Yes, sir," said I.

"You are a fine little fellow," said he; "will you let me grind my axe on it?"

Pleased with the compliment of "fine little fellow," "Oh, yes, sir;" I answered; "it is down in the shop." “And will you, my man,” said he, patting me on the head, "get me a little hot water?"

How could I refuse? I ran, and soon brought a kettle full.

"How old are you? and what's your name?" con

tinued he, without waiting for a reply; "I am sure you are one of the finest lads that ever I have seen. Will you just turn a few minutes for me?"

Tickled with the flattery, like a little fool, I went to work, and bitterly did I rue the day. It was a new axe, and I toiled and tugged till I was almost tired to death. The school-bell rang, and I could not get away; my hands were blistered, and the axe was not half ground. At length, however, it was sharpened, and the man turned to me with, "Now, you little rascal! you've played truant; scud to the school, or you'll rue it!"

"Alas!" thought I, "it was hard enough to turn a grindstone this cold day, but now to be called a little rascal is too much." It sank deep in my mind, and often have I thought of it since. When I see a merchant over-polite to customers, begging them to take a little brandy and throwing his goods on the counter, think I, "That man has an axe to grind."

When I see a man flattering the people, making great professions of attachment to liberty, who is in private life a tyrant, methinks, "Look out, good people! that fellow would set you turning grindstones." When I see a man hoisted into office by party spirit, without a single qualification to render him either respectable or useful, "Alas!" methinks, "deluded people! you are doomed for a season to turn the grindstone for a booby."