But never palm-tree straighter stood "My knee shall bend," he calmly said, "Seize him, ye guards!" the ruler cried, While passion choked his breath; "He mocks my power, he braves my lord,— He dies the traitor's death. Yet wait. The Swiss are marksmen true,— That fair-haired stripling hither bring, Hard by a spreading lime-tree stood, "The fault is mine, if fault there be,” "I will not harm the pretty boy," Said Gesler, tauntingly; "If blood of his shall stain the ground, Yours will the murder be. "Draw tight your bow, my cunning man, Your straightest arrow take; For know, yon apple is your mark, Your liberty the stake." A mingled noise of wrath and grief Full fifty paces from his child, His cross-bow in his hand, With lip compressed, and flashing eye, Tell firmly took his stand. Sure, full enough of pain and woe The noble boy stood bravely up, "Shoot straight," he cried; "thine aim is sure, It will not fail thee here." "Heaven bless thee now," the parent said, 66 "Thy courage shames me quite;" Then to his ear the shaft he drew, And watched its whizzing flight. "Tis done! 'tis done!-the child is safe!" Shouted the multitude; "Man tramples on his brother man, But God is ever good." For, sure enough, the arrow went As by an angel guided; In pieces two, beneath the tree, ""Twas bravely done," the ruler said, "No thanks I give thee for thy boon," The peasant coldly said: "To God alone my praise is due, And duly shall be paid. Yet know, proud man, thy fate was near: Not unavenged my child had died,— For, see! a second shaft was here, If harm my boy befell : Now go and bless the heavenly powers God helped the right, God spared the sin; He guards the weak against the strong, - REV. J. H. GURNEY. THE MOTHER PERISHING IN A SNOW STORM. THE cold winds swept the mountain's height, A mother wandered with her child: And colder still the winds did blow, And darker hours of night came on, And deeper grew the drifting snow: Her limbs were chilled, her strength was gone: "O God!" she cried, in accents wild, "If I must perish, save my child!" She stripped her mantle from her breast, And round the child she wrapped the vest, And smiled to think her babe was warm. With one cold kiss one tear she shed, At dawn a traveller passed by, And saw her 'neath a snowy veil; Her cheek was cold, and hard, and pale: SEBA SMITH. NEVER GIVE UP. NEVER give up! it is wiser and better Never give up! there are chances and changes Never give up! though the grape-shot may rattle, Or the full thunder-cloud over you burst: Stand like a rock, and the storm or the battle Little shall harm you, though doing the worst. Never give up! if adversity presses, Providence wisely has mingled the cup; And the best counsel in all your distresses, Is the stout watchward of Never give up! TUPPER, TRUE NOBILITY. ASK not for his lineage, I care not though of world's wealth 66 Hath he a true man's heart?" I ask not from what land he came, The palace or the hovel Where first his life began, I seek not of; but answer this"Is he an honest man?" Nay, blush not now; what matters it Where first he drew his breath? A manger was the cradle-bed Of HIM of Nazareth! HE is gone on the mountain, Like a summer-dried fountain, |