XII. THE OLD ARM CHAIR. MISS ELIZA COOK. 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; In childhood's hour I lingered near And heeded the words of truth that fell I sat and watched her many a day, When her eye grew dim and her locks were gray; 'Tis past! 'tis past! but I gaze on it now *Betide, happen. Say it is folly, and deem me weak, While the scalding drops start down my 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 pay 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. “I do not want this money," said the landlord to the judge, 66 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. XIV. THE SUNBEAM. MRS. HEMANS. THOU art no lingerer in monarch's hall: A bearer of hope unto land and sea; Sunbeam, what gift hath the world like thee? 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, Hope of the wilderness, joy of the sea? XV.-FLOWERS. O, THEY look upward in every place But the children of showers and sunny Have lovelier tales than these beams 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, |