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· The noise startled aunt Miffin, but before she could get her eyes fairly opened, the whole troop had run off, and were out of sight; all but Nancy Dame, who could not run away, because she had her baby brother in her arms, and her little blind sister holding by her gown.

6. Nancy Dame-0, why did you eat all my blueberries?” said aunt Miffin, shaking her head.

61 did not eat your berries, hardly one of them; only the boys put some into the baby's hand ;" replied Nancy, almost crying, for she loved aunt Miffin, who had always been very kind to her.

“ My dear child, who has eat them ?"

“ The boys, all the boys-Sam Draper, and Ezra Bond, and Seth Young, and Dan Jones, and John Harris"

- Who? John Harris, did you say?" screamed out the poor woman. " I know he would not touch a single berry in my basket.”

6 But, aunt Miffin, he was the first who saw you asleep, and he called the boys, I heard him call them, and say it would be fine fun; and he let them eat the berries all up," said Nancy.

Aunt Miffin's heart was full of sorrow. She did not think much about the loss of the berries, but she grieved that John Harris, her good boy, as she often called him, should have been so unkind, so ungrateful. She wept—that aged and feeble woman wept. and sobbed like a little child, as she took up her empty pail, and slowly turned her steps to her lowly and lonely home.

The next morning early John Harris rapped at her door ; he had thought of his frolic after he went to bed, and he felt sorry that he had injured aunt Miffin ; and he had determined to go early in the

morning, and offer to pick her another pail of blueberries.

He rapped at the door ; but she did not bid him come in ; she could not speak. She had been sick, very sick all night; and now felt that she was dying.

John Harris at last opened the door softly, and went in ; but when he saw the pale and ghostly countenance of aunt Miffin, he shrinked in horror. He thought she was dead.

“0, John, you have come to comfort me, I know you have," said aunt Miffin, faintly, as she reached out her cold and trembling hand to him. “John, I am dying,” she continued.

John was a courageous boy, but he was frightened now. He had never seen any person die. He snatched his hand away from the feeble woman, and ran like a mad creature, first to his mother, and told her that aunt Miffin was dying, and then he ran, of his own accord, to call the doctor. He sobbed so that the doctor could hardly understand what he wanted; he was beseeching the doctor to cure aunt Miffin. But this was beyond his skill.

The old woman died that day. She forgave John Harris and the other boys, and prayed that God would forgive them also for the sin of stealing her berries; and she gave John the bible she had long intended for him.

" Remember, my dear John,” said she, as she placed the bible in his hand, “ remember that we are commanded to do to others as we would have them do to us :-hink of this command, obey this command, and then you will never injure or insult the unfortunate, the poor, or the aged.”

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AMERICA. While we bring our offerings for the mighty of our own land, shall we not remember the chivalrous spirits of other shores, who shared with them the hour of weakness and woe? Pile to the clouds the majestic columns of glory, let the lips of those who can speak well, hallow each spot where the bones of your Bold repose ; but forget not those who with your Bold went out to battle.

Among these men of noble daring, there was ONE, a young and gallant stranger, who left the blushing vine-hills of his delightful France. The people whom he came to succour, were not his people, he knew them only in the wicked story of their wrongs. He was no mercenary wretch, striving for the spoil of the vanquished; the palace acknowledged him for its lord, and the valley yielded him its increase. He was no nameless man, staking life for reputation; he ranked among nobles, and looked unawed upon kings. He was no friendless outcast, seeking for a grave to hide his cold heart; he was girdled by the companions of his childhood, his kinsmen were about him, his wife was before him.

Yet from all these he turned away, and came. Like a lofty tree, that shakes down its green glories to battle with the winter storm, he flung aside the trappings of place and pride, to crusade for freedom, in freedom's holy land. He came—but not in the day of successful rebellion, not when the new-risen sun of independence had burst the cloud of time, and careered to its place in the heavens. He came when darkness curtained the hills, and the tempest was abroad in its anger; when the plough stood still in the field of promise, and briers cumbered the garden of beauty; when fathers were dying, and mothers were weeping over them; when the wife was binding up the gashed bosom of her husband, and the maiden was wiping the death-damp from the brow of her lover. He came when the brave began to fear the power of man, and the pious to doubt the favour of God.

It was then that this One joined the ranks of a revolted people. Freedom's little phalanx bade him a grateful welcome. With them he courted the battle's rage, with their's his arm was lifted ; with their's his blood was shed. Long and doubtful was the conflict. At length kind heaven smiled on the good cause, and the beaten invaders fled. The profane were driven from the temple of liberty, and at her pure shrine the pilgrim warrior, with his adored conmander, knelt and worshipped. Leaving there his offering, the incense of an uncorrupted spirit, he at length rose up, and, crowned with benedictions, turned his happy feet towards his long-deserted home.

After nearly fifty years that One has come again. Can mortal tongue tell, can mortal heart feel, the sublimity of that coming ? Exulting millions rejoice in it, and their loud, long, transporting shout, like the mingling of many winds, rolls on, undying, to freedom's farthest mountaius. A congregated nation comes round him. Old men bless him, and children reverence him. The lovely come out to look upon him, the learned deck their halls to greet him, the rulers of the land rise up to do him homage. How his full heart labours ! He views the rusting trophies of departed days, he treads the high places where his brethren moulder, he bends before the tomb of his 6 FATHER:"—his words are tears: the speech of sad remembrance. But he looks round upon a ransomed land and a joyous race; he beholds the blessings those trophies secured, for which those brethren died, for which that " FATHER" lived ; and again his words are tears; the eloquence of gratitude and joy.

Spread forth creation like a map; bid earth's dead multitude revive ;—and of all the pageant splendours that ever glittered to the sun, when looked his burning eye on a sight like this? Of all the myriads that have come and gone, what cherished minion ever ruled an hour like this? Many have struck the redeeming blow for their own freedom; but who, like this man, has bared his bosom in the cause of strangers ? Others have lived in the love of their own people, but who, like this man, has drank his sweetest cup of welcome with another ? Matchless chief! of glory's immortal tablets, there is one for him, for him alone! Oblivion shall never shroud its splendour; the everlasting flame of liberty shall guard it, that the generations of men may repeat the name recorded there, the beloved name of LA FAYETTE !

THE POWER OF ELOQUENCE. HEARD ye those loud contending waves,

That shook Cecropia's pillar'd state ? Saw'ye the mighty from their graves

Who shall calm the angry storm?
Who the mighty task perform,

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