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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 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
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!
The glad spring flowers

round about:

All the flowers are coming out -

to fling their stores of sweetness

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.

My walnut tree, too, watch it well when I am gone away :
With my own hands I planted it, to mark my third birthday;
They told me I should sit beneath its broad green shade,
And count the branches on its trunk, that many years had made.

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

about him at all times during his life. In one of his works he thus speaks of them: "The Almighty, who gave the dog to be the companion of our pleasures and our toils, has invested him with a nature noble and incapable of deceit. He forgets neither friend nor foe; remembers, and with accuracy, both benefit and injury. He has a share of man's intelligence, but no share of man's falsehood. You may bribe a soldier to slay a man with his sword, or a witness to take life by false accusation, but you cannot make a dog tear his benefactor. He is the friend of man, save when man justly incurs his enmity."

A long course of domestication, and peculiar modes of training and rearing, have divided the canine race into nearly a hundred varieties; many of which show marked difference in size and appearance. The savage bulldog seems hardly to belong to the same race as the delicate lapdog, that sleeps on the rug, and is washed and combed by its fair mistress almost as carefully as an infant. The swift and slim greyhound looks very little like the sturdy and square-built mastiff. But there are certain traits of character, which, in a greater or less degree, are common to all the kinds. Sagacity, docility, benevolence, a capacity to receive instruction, and attachment to his master's person, are qualities which belong to the whole race. Many anecdotes are to be found in books, illustrating the virtues and intelligence of the dog, from which we have made a selection for the entertainment of our young readers.

Many instances have been recorded in which persons have been saved from drowning by dogs, especially by those of the Newfoundland breed, which have a natural love of the water. A vessel was once driven by a storm on the beach in the county of Kent, in England. Eight men were calling for help, but not a boat could be got off to their assistance. At length a gentleman came on the beach accompanied by his Newfoundland dog. He directed the attention of the noble animal to the vessel, and put a short stick into his mouth. The intelligent and courageous dog at once understood his meaning, and sprang into the sea, fighting his way through the foaming waves. He could not, however, get close enough to the vessel to de

liver that with which he was charged, but the crew joyfully made fast a rope to another piece of wood, and threw it towards him. The sagacious dog saw the whole business in an instant; he dropped his own piece, and immediately seized that which had been cast to him; and then, with a degree of strength and determination almost incredible, he dragged it through the surge, and delivered it to his master. By this means a line of communication was formed, and every man on board saved.

A person, while rowing a boat, pushed his Newfoundland dog into the stream. The animal followed the boat for some time, till probably finding himself fatigued, he endeavored to get into it by placing his feet on the side. His owner repeatedly pushed the dog away; and in one of his efforts to do so, he lost his balance and fell in the river, and would probably have been drowned, had not the affectionate and generous animal immediately seized and held him above water till assistance arrived from the shore.

A boatman once plunged into the water to swim with another man for a wager. His Newfoundland dog, mistaking the purpose, and supposing that his master was in danger, plunged after him, and dragged him to the shore by his hair, to the great diversion of the spectators.

Nor are the good offices of dogs to man displayed only on the water. A young man in the north of England, while he was attending the sheep of his father, had the misfortune to fall and break his leg. He was three miles from home, in an unfrequented spot, where no one was likely to approach; evening was fast approaching, and he was in great pain from the fracture. In this dreadful condition, he folded one of his gloves in a pocket handkerchief, fastened it around the dog's neck, and then ordered him home in an emphatic tone of voice.

The dog, convinced that something was wrong, ran home with the utmost speed, and scratched with great violence at the door of the house for admittance. The parents of the young man were greatly alarmed at his appearance, especially when they had examined the handkerchief and its contents. Instantly concluding that some accident had befallen their son, they did

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