Till last by Philip's farm I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.

With many a curve my banks I fret
By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.

I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling,

And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel

With many a silvery waterbreak

Above the golden gravel,

And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river,

For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
I slide by hazel covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers.

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Among my skimming swallows;
I make the netted sunbeam dance
Against my sandy shallows.

I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses;

And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river,

For men may come and men may go,

But I go on for ever.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

I had attained the age of six. I had increased rapidly in size and strength: the growth of the mind, however, by no means corresponded with that of the body. It is true, I had acquired my letters, and was by this time able to read imperfectly; but this was all.

I harbored neither wishes nor hopes. I took no pleasure in books, whose use, indeed, I could scarcely comprehend, and bade fair to be as arrant a dunce as ever brought the blush of shame into the cheeks of anxious and affectionate parents.

But the time was at hand when a world of sensations was to be awakened to which the mind of the child had hitherto been an entire stranger.

One day a young lady, an intimate acquaintance of our family, and godmother to my brother, drove up to the house in which we dwelt. She stayed some time conversing with my mother, and on rising to depart, she put down on the table a small packet, saying, "I have brought a little present for each of the boys: the one is a History of England, which I intend for my godson when he returns from school, the other is -and here she said something which escaped

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my ear, as I sat at some distance, moping in a corner"I intend for the youngster yonder," pointing to myself.

I remember sitting for some time motionless in my corner, with my eyes bent on the ground. At last I lifted my head and looked upon the packet as it lay on the table. A book of some description had been brought for me, a present by no means calculated to interest me. What cared I for books? I had already many into which I had never looked but from compulsion. Yet something within told me that my fate was connected with the book which had last been brought. So, after looking on the packet from my corner for a considerable time, I got up and went to the table.

The packet was lying where it had been left. I took it up. Had the wrapper been secured by a string or a seal, I should not have opened it; I should have considered such an act almost in the light of a crime. The books, however, had been merely folded up, and I therefore considered that there could be no possible harm in inspecting them. Whether the action was right or wrong—and I am afraid it was not altogether right — I undid the packet.

It contained three books; two, from their similarity, seemed to be separate parts of the same work. They were handsomely bound, and to them I first turned my attention.

I opened them successively, and

endeavored to make out their meaning. Their contents, however, as far as I was able to understand them, were by no means interesting. Whoever pleases may read these books for me, and keep them, too, said I to myself.

I now took up the third book. It did not resemble the others, being considerably longer and considerably thicker; the binding was dingy calfskin. I opened it, and as I did so a strange thrill of pleasure shot through my frame.

The first object on which my eyes rested was a picture. A wild scene it was a heavy sea and rocky shore, with mountains in the background, above which the moon was peering. Not far from the shore, upon the water, was a boat with two figures in it, one of which stood at the bow, pointing with a gun at a dreadful shape in the water. Fire was flashing from the muzzle of the gun, and the monster appeared to be transfixed. I almost thought I heard its cry.

I remained motionless, gazing upon the picture, scarcely daring to draw my breath lest the new and wondrous world should vanish of which I had now obtained a glimpse. "Who are these people, and what could have brought them into that strange situation?" I asked myself. And now the seed of curiosity, which had so long lain dormant, began to expand, and I vowed to myself to become speedily acquainted with the whole history of the people in the boat.