But when dark night began to appear,
In vain he sought some shelter near,
And he was sure he could not bear
To sleep out in the open air.

The grass felt very damp and raw,
Much colder than his master's straw,
Yet on it he was forced to stretch,
A poor, cold, melancholy wretch.

The night was dark, the country hilly,
Poor Dobbin felt extremely chilly;
Perhaps a feeling like remorse,
Just now might sting the gentle horse.

As soon as day began to dawn,
Dobbin, with long and weary yawn,
Arose from this his sleepless night,
But in low spirits and bad plight.

If this (thought he) is all I get,
A bed unwholesome, cold, and wet;
And thus forlorn about to roam,
I think I'd better be at home.

'Twas long ere Dobbin could decide,
Betwixt his wishes and his pride,
Whether to live in all his danger,
back sneaking to the manger.

Or go

At last his struggling pride gave way;
The thought of savoury oats and hay
To hungry stomach was a reason
Unanswerable at this season.

So off he set, with look profound,
Right glad that he was homeward bound;

And trotting fast as he was able,

Soon gained once more his master's stable.

Now Dobbin, after this disaster,

Never again forsook his master,
Convinced he'd better let him mount,
Than travel on his own account.

THE TWO SIXPENCES THAT AT LAST MADE ONE SHILLING.

Charles. HARRY, what do you think I have got? Harry. How should I know? Let me see. Charles. Why, sixpence, that grandmamma has given me to spend on the Common: it is Election day.

Harry. Ay, so have I.-But what do you mean to do with yours?

Charles. Why, spend it, to be sure !—What is money for, I wonder?

Harry. But, I mean, what do you want to buy? Charles. O, want! Why I'll go to the Common, and find out there. I dare say I shall want a hundred things before I have been there five minutes.

Harry. Then, if I were you, I would not go, for you will be able to have but one.

Charles. Well, I shall have one, and see the rest, and that will be better than nothing, will it not?

Harry. Why, yes, if it be any thing you really want, and will be of any use to you.

Charles. Oh, I am sure I shall really want it, no fear of that; and as for use, you would not have me buy a pair of shoes, or a spelling book, because they are so useful? I suppose you mean to buy a flannel nightcap, or a peck of potatoes with yours.

Harry. Why, perhaps I might, if I wanted them; but I do not recollect that I want any thing at pre

sent.

Charles. And I dare say you mean to give your sixpence back again to your grandmamma, because you do not know what to do with it.

Harry. No, I would rather give it to you, Charles, than return it, for grandmamma would not be pleased with that. But I mean to lay it by, and then the first time I really want any thing, you know, I shall be able to have it.

Charles. Well, I know who will be a miser, one of these days.

Harry. What is a miser, Charles?

Charles. Why, one that loves his dear money better than all the world besides, and would starve to death before he would touch a farthing of it. That is what a miser is, and I know you will be one. Ah, who comes here in such a dismal condition? Hey, little boy, what is the matter?

Little Boy. O dear, sir, I have lost the shilling, and it was all we had in the whole world! I dropped it here, I fancy, somewhere, and it is quite gone, and now we must all starve again.

Harry. But do not cry so; tell us what you were going to do with it.

Little Boy. O, sir, to buy a loaf, to be sure; what else should I buy? But it is quite gone, and poor mamma must die now-that she must; Oh dear, Oh dear!

Harry. No, that she shall not though, if that be all; here is sixpence for you, poor thing! it is all I have got, but perhaps it will buy enough to keep your poor mamma from dying; will it not?

Little Boy. O, yes, dear sir.

Charles. Well, and here is mine too. Dear Harry, how much better is this than wasting it as I meant to do on the Common! I would rather feel as I do now, than buy a whole tent. Ah, I see the difference now between you and a miser.

WHO MADE THE SUN, MOON AND STARS. First Scholar.

I SAW the glorious sun arise

From yonder mountains gray;

And as he travelled through the skies,
The darkness fled away.

And all around me was so bright

I wished it would be always light.

But when his shining course was done,
The gentle moon was ever nigh,
And stars came twinkling, one by one,
Upon the shady sky.-

Who made the sun to shine so far,
The moon and every twinkling star?

Second Scholar.

'Twas God alone who made them all,
By his almighty hand :

He holds them, that they do not fall,
And bids them move or stand;
That glorious God, who lives afar,
In heaven, beyond the highest star.

THE WIND.

WHAT way does the wind come? what way does he go?

He rides over the water, and over the snow,

Through wood, and through vale, and o'er rocky height,

Which the goat cannot climb, takes his sounding flight.

He tosses about in every bare tree,

As, if you look up, you plainly may see;

But how he will come, and whither he goes,
There's never a scholar in England knows.

He will suddenly stop in a cunning nook,
And ring a sharp larum ; but if you should look,
There's nothing to see but a cushion of snow,
Round as a pillow and whiter than milk,
And softer than if it were covered with silk.
Sometimes he'll hide in the cave of a rock,
Then whistle as shrill as the buzzard cock;
-Yet seek him-and what shall you find in the
place?

Nothing but silence and empty space,

Save, in a corner, a heap of dry leaves,

That he's left for a bed for beggars and thieves!

Hark! over the roof he makes a pause,

And growls as if he would fix his claws
Right in the slates, and, with a huge rattle,
Drive them down, like men in a battle.
But let him range round, he does us no harm,
We'll build
up the fire, we're snug and warm;