the whole sum myself." Saying which, he left the store.

Ten years have passed away since the occurrence of the conversation recorded in the preceding dialogue, and Mr. Barton, pale and agitated, is standing at the same desk at which he stood when first introduced to the reader's attention. As page after page of his ponderous ledger is examined, his despair becomes deeper and deeper, till at last he exclaims, “I am ruined-utterly ruined!"

"How so?” inquired Hiram Strosser, who entered the room in time to hear Mr. Barton's remark.

"The last European steamer brought news of the failure of the house of Perleg, Jackson & Co., London, who are indebted to me in the sum of nearly two hundred thousand dollars. News of the failure has become general, and my creditors, panic-stricken, are pressing me for payment of their demands. The banks refuse me credit, and I have not the means to meet my liabilities. If I could pass this crisis, perhaps I could rally again; but it is impossible; my creditors are importunate, and I cannot much longer keep above the tide," replied Mr. Barton.

"What is the extent of your liabilities?" inquired Strosser.

ton.

"Seventy-five thousand dollars," replied Mr. Bar

"Would that sum be sufficient to relieve you?" "It would."

Then, sir, you shall have it," said Strosser, as he stepped up to the desk, and drew a check for twenty thousand dollars. "Take this, and when you need more, do not hesitate to call upon me. Remember

that it was from you that I received money to establish myself in business."

66

But that debt was canceled several years ago,” replied Mr. Barton, as a ray of hope shot across his troubled mind.

"True," replied Strosser, "but the debt of gratitude that I owe has never been canceled; and now that the scale is turned, I deem it my duty to come to the rescue."

At this singular turn in the tide of fortune, Mr. Barton fairly wept for joy. Every claim against him was paid as soon as presented, and in less than a month he had passed the crisis, and stood perfectly safe and secure: his credit improved, and his business increased, while several others sunk under the blow, among whom was Mr. Hawley, alluded to at the commencement of this lesson.

"How did you manage to keep above the tide ?" inquired Mr. Hawley of Mr. Barton, one morning, several months after the events last recorded, as he met the latter in the street, on his way to his place of business.

"Very easily indeed," replied Mr. Barton.

"Well, do tell me how," continued Mr. Hawley. "I lay claim to a good degree of shrewdness, but the strongest exercise of my wits did not save me; and yet you, whose liabilities were twice as heavy as my own, have stood the shock, and have come off even bettered by the storm."

"The truth is," replied Mr. Barton, "I cashed my paper as soon as it was sent in."

"I suppose so," said Mr. Hawley, regarding Mr. Barton with a look of surprise, "but how did you procure the funds? As for me, I could not obtain a

dollar's credit: the banks refused to take my paper, and even my friends deserted me."

"A little investment that I made some ten years ago," replied Mr. Barton, smiling, "has recently proved exceedingly profitable."

"Investment!" echoed Mr. Hawley; "what in

vestment?"

“Why, do you not remember how I established young Strosser in business some ten years ago?" "O, yes, yes," replied Mr. Hawley, as a ray of suspicion lighted up his countenance; "but what of that?"

"He is now one of the largest dry-goods dealers in the city, and when this calamity occurred, he came forward, and very generously advanced me seventy-five thousand dollars. You know I told you, on the morning I called to offer you an equal share of the stock, that it might prove better than an investment in the bank."

During this announcement Mr. Hawley's eyes were bent intently upon the ground, and drawing a deep sigh he moved on, dejected and sad, while Mr. Barton returned to his place of business with his mind cheered and animated by thoughts of his singular investment.

FREEMAN HUNT.

Biography.-Freeman Hunt was born at Quincy, Massachusetts, in 1804, and died in New York City in 1858.

"The

He was at one time the editor and proprietor of Merchants' Magazine." He also established "The Ladies' Magazine," "The Weekly Traveler," and "The Juvenile Miscellany."

Language.—Explain what is meant by the expressions- "The scale is turned" and a "Turn in the tide of fortune."

Composition.-Give a reason for the use of each mark of punctuation and each capital letter employed in the first two paragraphs of the lesson.

34.-DRIVING HOME THE COWS.

sõber, slow; calm.

grim, stern.

eropping, biting; cutting.

but'ter eŭps, a kind of plant

having bright yellow flowers. trăm’ũ lQus, shaking.

Out of the clover and blue-eyed grass,
He turned them into the river-lane;
One after another he let them pass,
Then fastened the meadow-bars again.

Under the willows and over the hill,
He patiently followed their sober pace;
The merry whistle for once was still,
And something shadowed the sunny face.

Only a boy! and his father had said
He never could let the youngest go!
Two already were lying dead

Under the feet of the trampling foe.

But after the evening work was done,

And the frogs were loud in the meadow swamp, Over his shoulder he slung his gun,

And stealthily followed the foot-path damp,

Across the clover and through the wheat,

With resolute heart and purpose grim,

Though cold was the dew on his hurrying feet,
And the blind bats' flitting startled him.

Thrice since then had the lanes been white,
And the orchards sweet with apple-bloom;
And now, when the cows came back at night,
The feeble father drove them home.

For news had come to the lonely farm

That three were lying where two had lain; And the old man's tremulous, palsied arm Could never lean on a son's again.

The summer day grew cool and late;

He went for the cows when the work was done; But down the lane, as he opened the gate,

He saw them coming, one by one,—

Brindle, Ebony, Speckle, and Bess,

Shaking their horns in the evening wind, Cropping the buttercups out of the grassBut who was it following close behind?

Loosely swung in the idle air

The empty sleeve of army blue;

And worn and pale, from the crisping hair,
Looked out a face that the father knew,-

The great tears sprung to their meeting eyes; "For the heart must speak when the lips are dumb," And under the silent evening skies,

Together they followed the cattle home.

For gloomy prisons will sometimes yawn,
And yield their dead unto life again;
And the day that comes with a cloudy dawn,
In golden glory at last may wane.

KATE P. OSGOOD.

Biography.-Kate Putnam Osgood, born in Maine in 1841, is a contributor to the leading periodicals of this country. She is regarded as one of the most pleasing of our American poets.

"Driving Home the Cows" is considered the most popular of her poems.