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with tears and sobs of joy, and her father laid her within her mother's bosom.

hill.

DEFINITIONS.-1. Brãe, shelving ground, a declivity or slope of a Pas'times, sports, plays. 4. Ri'ot-ing, romping. 5. Heath'er, an evergreen shrub bearing beautiful flowers, used in Great Britain for making brooms, etc. 6. In-spired', animated, enlivened. Sū-pernăt ́ū-ral, more than human. Brake, a place overgrown with shrubs and brambles. Re-ver'ber-at-ing, resounding, echoing. In-těnt', having the mind closely fixed. 8. Plăid (pro. plăd), a striped or checked overgarment worn by the Scotch. 9. E-jǎe'ū-lāt-ed, exclaimed. 11. Seour, to pass over swiftly and thoroughly.

NOTE. The scene of this story is laid in Scotland, and many of the words employed, such as brae, brake, heather, and plaid, are but little used except in that country.

XXVIII. THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, (b. 1807, d. 1882,) the son of Hon. Stephen Longfellow, an eminent lawyer, was born in Portland, Maine. He graduated at Bowdoin College in 1825. After spending four years in Europe, he was Professor of Modern Languages and Literature at Bowdoin till 1835, when he was appointed to the chair of Modern Languages and Belles-lettres in Harvard University. He resigned his professorship in 1854, after which time he resided in Cambridge, Mass. Mr. Longfellow wrote many original works both in verse and prose, and made several translations, the most famous of which is that of the works of Dante. His poetry is always chaste and elegant, showing traces of careful scholarship in every line. The numerous and varied editions of his poems are evidences of their popularity.

1. THERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death,
And, with his sickle keen,

He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between.

2. "Shall I have naught that is fair?" saith he;
"Have naught but the bearded grain?

Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me,
I will give them all back again."

3. He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes,
He kissed their drooping leaves;

It was for the Lord of Paradise,
He bound them in his sheaves.

4. "My Lord has need of these flowerets gay,"
The Reaper said, and smiled;

"Dear tokens of the earth are they,
Where he was once a child.

5. " They shall all bloom in the fields of light,
Transplanted by my care,

And saints, upon their garments white,
These sacred blossoms wear."

6. And the mother gave, in tears and pain,
The flowers she most did love;

She knew she should find them all again
In the fields of light above.

7. O, not in cruelty, not in wrath,

The Reaper came that day;

'Twas an angel visited the green earth,
And took the flowers away.

DEFINITIONS. 3. Sheaves, bundles of grain. 4. To'ken (pro. tō ́kn), a souvenir, that which is to recall some person, thing, or event. 5. Trans-plǎnt'ed, removed and planted in another place.

XXIX. THE TOWN PUMP.

Nathaniel Hawthorne (b. 1804, d. 1864) was born in Salem, Mass. He graduated at Bowdoin College in 1825. His earliest literary productions, written for periodicals, were published in two volumes-the first in 1837, the second in 1842-under the title of "Twice-Told Tales." "Mosses from an Old Manse," another series of tales and sketches, was published in 1845. From 1846 to 1850 he was surveyor of the port of Salem. In 1852 he was appointed United States consul for Liverpool. After holding this office four years, he traveled for some time on the continent. His most popular works are "The Scarlet Letter," a work showing a deep knowledge of human nature, "The House of Seven Gables," "The Blithedale Romance," and "The Marble Faun," an Italian romance, which is regarded by many as the best of his works. Being of a modest and retiring disposition, Mr. Hawthorne avoided publicity. Most of his works are highly imaginative. As a prose writer he has no superior among American authors. He died at Plymouth, N. H., while on a visit to the White Mountains for his health.

[SCENE. The corner of two principal streets. Pump talking through its nose.]

The Town

1. NOON, by the north clock! Noon, by the east! High noon, too, by those hot sunbeams which fall, scarcely aslope, upon my head, and almost make the water bubble and smoke in the trough under my nose. Truly, we public characters have a tough time of it! And among all the town officers, chosen at the yearly meeting, where is he that sustains, for a single year, the burden of such manifold duties as are imposed, in perpetuity, upon the Town Pump?

2. The title of town treasurer is rightfully mine, as guardian of the best treasure the town has. The overseers of the poor ought to make me their chairman, since I provide bountifully for the pauper, without expense to him that pays taxes. I am at the head of the fire department, and one of the physicians of the board of health. As a keeper of the peace, all water-drinkers confess me equal to the constable. I perform some of the duties of the town-clerk, by promulgating public notices, when they are pasted on my front.

3. To speak within bounds, I am chief person of the municipality, and exhibit, moreover, an admirable pattern to my brother officers, by the cool, steady, upright, downright, and impartial discharge of my business, and the constancy with which I stand to my post. Summer or winter, nobody seeks me in vain; for, all day long I am seen at the busiest corner, just above the market, stretching out my arms to rich and poor alike; and at night I hold a lantern over my head, to show where I am, and to keep people out of the gutters.

4. At this sultry noontide, I am cup-bearer to the parched populace, for whose benefit an iron goblet is chained to my waist. Like a dram-seller on the public square, on a muster-day, I cry aloud to all and sundry, in my plainest accents, and at the very tiptop of my voice. "Here it is, gentlemen! Here is the good liquor! Walk up, walk up, gentlemen, walk up, walk up! Here is the superior stuff! Here is the unadulterated ale of father Adam! better than Cognac, Hollands, Jamaica, strong beer, or wine of any price; here it is, by the hogshead or the single glass, and not a cent to pay. Walk up, gentlemen, walk up, and help yourselves!"

5. It were a pity if all this outcry should draw no customers. Here they come. A hot day, gentlemen. Quaff and away again, so as to keep yourselves in a nice, cool sweat You, my friend, will need another cupful to wash the dust out of your throat, if it be as thick there as it is on your cowhide shoes. I see that you have trudged half a score of miles to-day, and, like a wise man, have passed by the taverns, and stopped at the running brooks and well-curbs. Otherwise, betwixt heat without and fire. within, you would have been burnt to a cinder, or melted down to nothing at all-in the fashion of a jelly-fish.

6. Drink, and make room for that other fellow, who seeks my aid to quench the fiery fever of last night's potations, which he drained from no cup of mine. Welcome, most

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rubicund sir: You and I have been strangers hitherto; nor, to confess the truth, will my nose be anxious for a closer intimacy, till the fumes of your breath be a little less potent.

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