Though light and wandering was his glance, The Bruce, my liege: I know him well." And at King Edward's signal soon Dashed from the ranks Sir Henry Boune. Of Hereford's high blood he came, He spurred his steed, he couched his lance, As motionless as rocks that bide Each breast beat high The eyelid scarce had time to wink, While on the king, like flash of flame, Just as they met, Bruce shunned the spear. His course LXXV.-THE FORGIVEN DEBT. L. M. SARGENT. ABOUT the beginning of the present century, a Boston merchant, who had been extensively engaged in commerce, died in a good old age, without leaving any will. He had been for many years largely interested in the fishing business, and his name was familiar to all the hardy fishermen of Cape Cod. His eldest son administered upon the estate. Among his papers, a package of considerable size was found, after his death, carefully tied up, and labelled as follows: "Notes, due bills, and accounts against sundry persons down along shore. Some of these may be got by a suit or severe dunning. But the people are poor; most of them have had fisherman's luck. My children will do as they think best. Perhaps they will think, with me, that it is best to burn this package entire." "About a month," said my informant, "after our father died, the sons met together, and, after some general remarks, our eldest brother, the administrator, produced this package, of whose existence we were already apprised, read the superscription, and asked what course should be taken in regard to it. Another brother, a few years younger than the eldest, a man of strong, impulsive temperament, unable at the moment to express his feeling by words, while he brushed the tears from his eyes with one hand, by a spasmodic jerk of the other towards the fireplace, indicated his desire to have the paper put into the flames. It was suggested by another of our number, that it might be well first to make a list of the debtors' names, and of the dates and accounts, that we might be enabled, as the intended discharge was for all, to inform such as might offer ment, that their debts were forgiven. On the following day we again assembled; the list had been prepared, and all the notes, due bills, and accounts, whose amount, including interest, exceeded thirty-two thousand dollars, were committed to the flames. pay "It was in the month of June, about four months after our father's death, that, as I was sitting in my eldest brother's counting room, waiting for an opportunity to speak to him, there came in a hard-favored, little old man, who looked as if time and rough weather had been to the windward of him for seventy years. He asked if my brother was not the executor. He replied that he was administrator, as our father died intestate. 'Well,' said the stranger, 'I have come up from the Cape to pay a debt I owed the old gentleman.' My brother," continued my informant, "requested him to be seated, being at the moment engaged. "The old man sat down, and putting on his glasses, drew out a very ancient leather wallet. When he had done, and sat, with quite a parcel of notes, waiting his turn, slowly twisting his thumbs, with his old, gray, meditative eyes upon the floor, he sighed; and I well supposed the money, as the phrase runs, came hard, and secretly wished the old man's name might be found upon the forgiven list. My brother was soon at leisure, and asked him the common questions, his name, &c. The original debt was four hundred and forty dollars; it had stood a long time, and with the interest amounted to a sum between seven and eight hundred dollars. My brother went to his table, and after examining the forgiven list attentively, a sudden smile lighted up his countenance, and told me the truth at a glance—the old man's name was there! My brother quietly took a chair by his side, and a conversation ensued between them which I shall never forget. Your note is outlawed,'* said my brother; 'it was dated twelve years ago, payable in two years; there is no witness, and no interest has ever been paid; you are not bound to pay this note: we cannot recover the amount.' "Sir,' said the old man, 'I wish to pay it. It is the only heavy debt I have in the world. I should like to pay it;' and he laid the bank notes before my brother, and requested him to count them over. "I cannot take this money,' said my brother. "The old man became alarmed. 'I have cast simple interest for twelve years and a little over,' said the old man. 'I will pay you compound interest if you say so. That debt ought to have been paid long ago; but your father, sir, was very indulgent; he knew I had been unfortunate, and told me not to worry about it.' 66 My brother then set the whole matter plainly before him and, taking the bills, returned them to the old man, telling him, that although our father left no formal will, he had recommended to his children to destroy certain notes, due bills, and other evidences of debt, and release those who might be legally bound to pay them. For a moment the worthy old man seemed to be stupefied. After he had collected himself, and wiped a few tears from his eyes, he stated, that from the time he had heard of our father's death, he had raked and scraped, and pinched and spared, to get the money together for the payment * By law, notes become outlawed in six years from the time of payment. of this debt. 'About ten days ago,' said he, 'I had made up the sum within twenty dollars. My wife knew how much the payment of this debt lay upon my spirits, and advised me to sell a cow, and make up the difference, and get the heavy burden off my spirits. I did so and now what will my wife say? I must get home to the Cape and tell her this good news. She'll probably say over the very words she said when she put her hands on my shoulder as we parted "I have never seen the righteous man forsaken, nor his seed begging bread."" After a hearty shake of the hand, and a blessing upon our father's memory, he went upon his way rejoicing. "After a short silence, seizing his pencil and making a cast, 'There,' exclaimed my brother, 'your part of the amount would be so much: contrive a plan to convey to me your share of the pleasure derived from this operation, and the money is at your service."" LXXVI.-PASSAGES FROM COWPER'S TASK. [The Task is a moral and descriptive poem in six books, in which the characteristic qualities of the poet's genius are most happily displayed.] COWPER'S DESCRIPTION OF HIMSELF. I WAS a stricken deer, that left the herd With gentle force soliciting the darts, He drew them forth, and healed, and bade me live. RURAL SOUNDS. Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, |