4. She was proud of me, on the whole, as a pupil, though she sometimes had occasion to reprove me for idleness and skipping stitches; and between us, it is impossible to say how many pairs of stockings we made whole in the course of the year. Many a time I was invited by Cousin Deborah to take tea with her, and bring my workbag in my hand, as a matter of course; and we used to sit for long hours without speaking, intent on our needles, the silence unbroken save by the ticking of the eight-day clock.

5. I sometimes found it very dull work, I confess. Not so Cousin Deborah. She needed no other society than that of her work-box; and I do not believe she loved any human being so well. Her whole heart was in it; and the attachment she evinced towards me, as time went on, was fostered and encouraged by our mutual zeal in performing tasks of needle-work. Not that I shared in her devotion: I was actuated by a sense of duty alone, and would far rather, could I have done so conscientiously, have been dancing and laughing with companions of my own age. But ply the needle I did, and so did Cousin Deborah; and we two became, with the huge old workbox between us, quite a pair of loving friends; and at least two evenings in every week I went to sit with the lone woman. She would have had me do so every evening; but, though there were so many of us at home, our parents could not bear to spare any of us out of their sight oftener than they deemed indispensable.

6. At length Cousin Deborah's quiet and blameless life came to an end. Having shut her work-box, locked it, and put the key in a sealed packet, she turned her face to the wall, and fell asleep.

7. When her will was opened, it was found that she had left her books, furniture, and plate to a family that stood in the same relationship to her as we did, but who were in

2

much more prosperous circumstances than we. To me she devised the huge old work-box, with all its contents, "in token of the high esteem and affection with which I was regarded" by the deceased. I was to inherit the well-stored work-box, only on condition that it was to be daily used by me in preference to all others. "Every ball of darning cotton, as it diminishes, shall bring its blessing," said Cousin Deborah; "for Ada Benwell" (that was my name) "is a good girl, and has darned more holes in the stockings of her little brothers and sisters than any other girl of her age. Therefore, I particularly commend the balls of darning cotton to her notice; and I particularly recommend her to use them up as soon as she can, and she will meet with her reward in due season."

3

8. My mother was a little disappointed at the contents of our kinswoman's will, and expressed her displeasure in a few sharp remarks, for which my father gently reproved her. The subject of the legacies was never again discussed by us. The work-box was in constant requisition at my side, and the balls of darning cotton rapidly dimin ished. One day, as I was sitting beside my mother busy with my needle, she remarked, "You have followed our poor cousin's directions, my dear Ada. She particularly recommended you to use up the balls of darning cotton as soon as possible; and look, there is one just done."

9. As my mother spoke, I unrolled a long needleful, and came to the end of that ball. A piece of paper fell to the ground, which had been the nucleus on which the ball was formed. I stooped to pick it up, and was just about throwing it into the fire, when it caught my mother's eye, and she stretched out her hand and seized it. In a moment she unfolded it before our astonished gaze: it was a bank note of fifty pounds!

10. "O, dear, misjudged Cousin Deborah!" she exclaimed; "this is our Ada's reward in due season. It's just like her kind, queer old soul!"

11. We were not long in using up all the other balls of darning cotton in that marvellous work-box; and such a reward as I found for my industry sure never was met with before or since. Truly, it was a fairy box, and my needle the fairy's wand.

12. No less than ten fifty-pound notes were thus brought to light; and my father laughingly declared I had wrought my own dower' with my needle. No persuasions could induce him to appropriate the treasure; he said it was my "reward," and belonged to me alone.

1 AN-NU'I-TY. A sum of money paid yearly.

2 DE-VĪŞED'. Gave by a will.

* KİNŞ'WOM-AN (-wûm-an). A female relative.

body, or that around which matter is collected.

6 PÖÛND. A money of account used in England, equivalent to about four dollars and eighty-four cents.

4 LEG'A-Cỵ. A gift of money or goods 7 Döŵ'ER. The portion or property by a will.

NU'CLE-US. The central part of a

which a woman brings her husband in marriage; dowry.

XXVII. -THE THREE MIGHTY.

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

[The incidents on which these lines are founded is related in the twenty-third chapter of the Second Book of Samuel, and also in the eleventh chapter of the First Book of Chronicles.]

1. WATCHFIRES are blazing on hill and plain;

The noonday light is restored again;
There are shining arms in Rephaim's vale,
And bright is the glitter of clanging mail.

2. The Philistine hath fixed his encampment here;
Afar stretch his lines of banner and spear,

And his chariots of brass are ranged side by side,
And his war steeds neigh loud in their trappings' of pride

3. His tents are placed where the waters flow;
The sun hath dried up the springs below,

And Israel hath neither well nor pool,
The rage of her soldiers' thirst to cool.

4. In the cave of Adullam King David lies,
Overcome with the glare of the burning skies;
And his lip is parched, and his tongue is dry,
But none can the grateful draught supply.

5. Though a crownéd king, in that painful hour,
One flowing cup might have bought his power.
What worth, in the fire of thirst, could be
The purple pomp of his sovereignty?

6. But no cooling cup from river or spring,

To relieve his want, can his servants bring;
And he cries, "Are there none in my train or state'
Will fetch me the water of Bethlehem gate?"

7. Then three of his warriors, "the mighty three,"
The boast of the monarch's chivalry 3,

Uprose in their strength, and their bucklers' rang,
As with eyes of flame on their steeds they sprang.

8. On their steeds they sprang, and with spurs of speed Rushed forth in the strength of a noble deed.

And dashed on the foe like the torrent flood,
Till he floated away in a tide of blood.

9. To the right-to the left-where their blue swords shine,

Like autumn corn falls the Philistine;

And sweeping along with the vengeance of fate,
The "mighty" rush onward to Bethlehem gate.

10. Through a bloody gap in his shattered array,
To Bethlehem's well they have hewn their way;

Then backward they turn on the corse-covered plain,
And charge through the foe to their monarch again.

11. The king looks at the cup, but the crystal draught,
At a price too high for his want, hath been bought;
They urge him to drink, but he wets not his lip;
Though great is his need, he refuses to sip.

12. But he pours it forth to Heaven's Majesty,
He pours it forth to the Lord of the sky;
"Tis a draught of death—'tis a cup blood-stained
"Tis a prize from man's suffering and agony gained.

13. Should he taste of a cup that his "mighty three "
Had obtained by their peril and jeopardy"?

Should he drink of their life? "Twas the thought of a king;

And again he returned to his suffering.

brave and courteous warriors.

1 TRĂP'PINGS. Ornaments, especially 3 ÇHIV'AL-Rỵ. Body of knights or of such as are used to decorate a horse.

2 STATE. Persons forming the suite or attendants of another.

4

BUCK'LER. A kind of shield worn or the left arm.

5 JEOPAR-DY. Danger.

[Fitz-Greene Halleck was born in Guilford, Connecticut, July, 1795. Marco Bozzaris (bōt-săr'is or bōt'sa-ris), one of the most admired of his poems, was first published in 1827, in a small volume of poems, most of which had previously appeared in a fugitive form. Bozzaris was one of the martyrs in the cause of the independence of Greece. He fell in a night attack upon the camp of the Turks, August, 1823, near the site of the old battle-field of Platæa.]

1. Ar midnight, in his guarded tent,

The Turk was dreaming of the hour

When Greece, her knee in suppliance' bent,