Puslapio vaizdai

"God forbid that I should think so! The dear child has said all there is to say on the subject."

"Let us go," said the fairy to her companion. [Abridgment from Translation


by Mary L. Booth.]


The breaking waves dashed high

On a stern and rock-bound coast,

And the woods, against a stormy sky,
Their giant branches tossed:

And the heavy night hung dark

The hills and water o'er,

When a band of exiles moored their bark
On the wild New England shore.

Not as the conqueror comes,
They, the true-hearted came,
Not with the roll of the stirring drums,
And the trumpet that sings of fame;

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They shook the depths of the desert's gloom,
With their hymns of lofty cheer.

Amidst the storm they sang,

And the stars heard and the sea!

And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang
To the anthem of the free.

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The ocean eagle soared

From his nest by the white wave's foam, And the rocking pines of the forest roared— This was their welcome home!

There were men with hoary hair,
Amidst that pilgrim band —
Why had they come to wither there
Away from their childhood's land?

There was woman's fearless eye,
Lit by her deep love's truth;
There was manhood's brow serenely high,
And the fiery heart of youth.

What sought they thus afar?
Bright jewels of the mine?
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?
They sought a faith's pure shrine !

Aye, call it holy ground,

The soil where first they trod!

They have left unstained what there they found — Freedom to worship God!















We went from the church to the school, which had long been a favorite resort of the good vicar's; indeed, to judge from the schoolmaster's books, his attendance there is almost daily, and the number of scholars some two hundred.

We found a large room with some sixty or seventy boys at work; in an upper chamber were a considerable number of girls, with their teachers, two modest and pretty young women; but the favorite resort of the vicar was evidently the infant school, and no wonder: it is impossible to witness a more beautiful or touching sight.

Eighty of these little people, healthy, clean, and rosy some in smart gowns and shoes and stockings, some with patched pinafores and little bare pink feet-sat upon half a dozen low benches, and were singing, at the top of their fourscore fresh voices, a song when we entered.

All the voices were hushed as the vicar came in, and a great bobbing and courtesying took place; whilst a hundred and sixty innocent eyes turned awfully toward the clergyman, who tried to look as

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unconcerned as possible, and began to make the little ones a speech.

"I have brought," says he, "a gentleman from England, who has heard of my little children and their school, and hopes he will carry away a good account of it. Now, you know, we must all do our best to be kind and civil to strangers: what can we do here, for this gentleman, that he would like? Do you think he would like a song?"

(All the children.) "We'll sing to him!"

Then the schoolmistress, coming forward, sang the first words of a hymn, which at once eighty little voices took up, or near eighty-for some of the little things were too young to sing yet, and all they could do was to beat the measure with little red hands as the others sang.

It was a hymn about heaven, with a chorus of "O, that will be joyful, joyful, joyful," and one of the verses beginning, "Little children will be there." It was the first time I had ever heard it; and I do not care to own that it brought tears to my eyes.

But I think I will never, while I live, forget that little chorus, nor would any man who has ever loved a child and lost one. God bless you, O happy little singers! What a noble and useful life is his, who, in place of seeking wealth and honor, devotes his life to such a service as this!


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