nous symbol of resistless and beneficent power, they have led the brave to victory and to glory. They have floated over our cradles; let it be our prayer and our struggle that they shall float over our graves.

HENRY WARD BEECHER.

XXXVIII. RECOLLECTIONS OF CHILDHOOD

1. I remember, I remember, the house where I was

He never came a wink too soon, nor brought too

long a day;

But now I often wish the night had borne my breath away.

2. I remember, I remember, the roses red and white; The violets and the lily-cups, those flowers

made of light;

The lilacs, where the robins built, and where my brother set

The laburnum on his birthday the tree is living yet.

3. I remember, I remember, where once I used to

swing,

4.

And felt the air that rushed as fresh as swallows on the wing;

My spirit flew in feathers then, that is so heavy

now;

And summer pools could hardly cool the fever on my brow.

I remember, I remember, the fir trees dark and high;

I used to think their slender spires were close
against the sky;

It was a childish ignorance; but now 'tis little joy
To know I'm farther off from heaven than when

I was a boy.

THOMAS HOOD.

XXXIX. THE OLD GARDEN

1. Dear father will let us do almost anything, but mother often waits to consider it before she will promise, and though it is different from father's way, we know that it will be all right, for there is no one in the world at all like mother.

2. We told her about Mr. Arthur one evening, and asked if we might go to see his garden in the morning. Patricia said, when we were going to bed, that she wondered why mother had said yes immediately, even before father had said a word.

"I remember, I remember, the house where I was born,

The little window where the sun came peeping in at morn."

But mother said that she knew about the gentleman who had come to live at the old house, and that we were honored in being asked to see his garden. We supposed that was because he was quite grown up and we were not at all so.

3. We went the next morning and waited by the high brick wall until Mr. Arthur came out to see how blue the sky was over his big hawthorn tree. He nodded to us in the friendliest way and asked if we were coming into his garden.

if we

4. "We are all coming, thank you very much," said Patricia, politely. "Mother says we may don't trouble you. Do we trouble you?"

5.

"Not at all," said Mr. Arthur, cheerfully; and he took Paul's hand and led us up the hawthorn walk.

6. All about the house there were old lawns of grass, with beech trees around them, and in the grass under the trees there were snowdrops, crocuses, daffodils, and anemones, that grew not in patches of two and three, but in wide sheets. Before the house there was a lawn so old and mossy that your feet sank into it as you walked; at one end was the house, with a row of gray gables in the roof, and long windows that opened on the grass; at the other end was a low brick wall with a wide gateway, and here you went down three steps into the garden.