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the stone, or, if there is a pen-stock, to put his hand over the spout and squirt the water a little while.

4. He is the one who spreads the grass, when the men have cut it; he mows it away in the barn; he rides the horse to cultivate the corn, up and down the hot, weary rows; he picks up the potatoes, when they are dug; he drives the cows, night and morning; he brings wood and water, and splits kindling; he gets up the horse and puts out the horse; whether he is in the house or out of it, there is always something for him to do.

5. Just before school, in winter, he shovels paths; in summer, he turns the grindstone. He knows where there are lots of winter-greens and sweet-flag root, but, instead of going for them, he has to stay in-doors and pare apples and stone raisins, and pound something in a mortar; and yet, with his mind full of schemes of what he would like to do, and his hands full of occupations, he is an idle boy, who has nothing with which to busy himself but school and chores. He would gladly do all the work, if somebody else would do the chores, he thinks; and yet, I doubt if any boy ever amounted to anything, or was of much use as a man, who did not enjoy the advantages of a liberal education in the way of chores.

6. A boy on a farm is nothing without his pets; at least, a dog, and probably rabbits, chickens, ducks, and guinea-hens. A guinea-hen suits a boy. It is of little use, and makes a more disagreeable noise than a Chinese gong. I once had a first-rate dog, that I had, with much patience, taught to go up a long hill alone and surround the cows, and drive them home from the remote pastHe liked the fun of it, at first; but, by and by, he seemed to get the notion that it was a "chore," and, when I whistled for him to go for the cows, he would turn tail and run the other way; and, the more I whistled,

ure.

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7. This dog's name was Turk; and I should have sold him, if he had not been the kind of dog that nobody will buy. I suppose he was not a cow dog, but what they call a sheep dog; at least, when he was old enough, he used to get into the pasture and chase the sheep to death. That was the way he fell into trouble, and lost his valuable life.

8. A dog is of great use on a farm, and that is the reason a boy likes him. He is good to bite peddlers and small children, and to run out and yelp at wagons that pass, and to howl all night when the moon shines; and yet, if I were a boy again, the first thing I would have, should be a dog; for dogs are great companions, and as active and spry as a boy at doing nothing.

9. Dogs are also good to bark at woodchuck holes. This reminds me that one of the pleasantest days I ever spent, was in digging a channel to turn a side-hill brook into a woodchuck hole. After a great deal of hard work, the water was made to pour into the hole — the other entrances to the woodchuck's hole were stopped. so that the woodchuck was, at last, forced to come out to breathe; and, when he did look out, the dog took him by the nose, and there ensued one of the fiercest fights that is on record; for the woodchuck is very spunky, and fully as game as a dog.

10. But the dog, although not much larger than the woodchuck, was too civilized and had too much "science" for him, and finally took away his breath. I do not know why it is that boys so like to hunt and kill animals ; but the excuse I gave, in this case, for the murder, was that the woodchuck ate the clover and trod it down; and, in fact, was a woodchuck. It was not till a long time after, that I learned that he is a rodent mammal, and is called, at the West, a ground hog.

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ACROSS the narrow beach, we flit,

One little sandpiper and I,

And fast I gather, bit by bit,

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The scattered drift-wood, bleached and dry.

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The wild waves reach their hands for it,
The wild wind raves, the tide runs high,
As up and down the beach, we flit,
One little sandpiper and I.

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2. Above our heads, the sullen clouds

Scud, black and swift, across the sky;
Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds
Stand out the white light-houses high.
Almost as far as eye can reach,

I see the close-reefed vessels fly,
As fast we flit along the beach,
One little sandpiper and I.

3. I watch him, as he skims along,

Uttering his sweet and mournful cry ;
He starts not at my fitful

song,

Nor flash of fluttering drapery.

He has no thought of any wrong;

He scans me with a fearless eye.

Stanch friends are we, well tried and strong, -
The little sandpiper and I.

4. Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night,
When the loosed storm breaks furiously?
My drift-wood fire will burn so bright!
To what warm shelter canst thou fly?
I do not fear for thee, though wroth
The tempest rushes through the sky;
For are we not God's children both,
Thou, little sandpiper, and I?

CELIA THAXTER.

III. THE SAILOR BOY OF HAVRE.

A FRENCH brig was returning from Toulon1 to

Havre,2 with a rich cargo and numerous passengers. On the coast of Brittany, it was overtaken by a sudden

1 Toulon (too/lôn'), an important commercial town in the south of France, on the Mediterranean.

2 Havre (häv'r), a French city, situated at the mouth of the Seine; the port of entry to Paris, from which it is distant 108 miles.

and violent storm. The captain, who was an experienced sailor, at once saw the danger which threatened the ship on such a rocky coast, and gave orders to put out to sea ; but the winds and waves drove the brig violently towards the shore, and, notwithstanding all the efforts of the crew, it continued to get nearer land.

2. Among the most active on board, in doing all that he could to help, was little Jacques, a lad of twelve years, who was serving as cabin-boy in the vessel. At times, when he disappeared for a moment behind the folds of a sail, the sailors thought that he had fallen overboard; and, again, when a wave threw him down on the deck, they looked around to see if it had not carried away the poor boy with it; but Jacques was soon up again, unhurt. My mother," said he, smiling, to an old sailor, "would be frightened enough if she saw me just now.”

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3. His mother, who lived at Havre, was very poor, and had a large family. Jacques loved her tenderly, and he was enjoying the prospect of carrying to her his little treasure, two five-franc pieces, which he had earned as his wages for the voyage. The brig was beaten about, a whole day, by the storm, and, in spite of all the efforts of the crew, they could not steer clear of the rocks on the coast. By the gloom on the captain's brow, it might be seen that he had little hope of saving the ship.

4. All at once, a violent shock was felt, accompanied the vessel had struck a rock. by a horrible crash The sailors "Lower the boats!" cried the captain. obeyed; but no sooner were the boats in the water than they were carried away by the violence of the waves. 5. "We have but one hope of safety," said the captain. "One of us must be brave enough to run the risk We may fasten of swimming with a rope to the shore. one end to the mast of the vessel, and the other to a rock on the coast, and by this we may all get on shore.”

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