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head yesterday, dear boy, and so they said the day before. But that's a part of that kind of disorder; it's not a bad sign — not at all a bad sign.” The child was silent. He walked to the door, and looked wistfully out. The shadows of night were gathering, and all was still.
7. “If he could lean on somebody's arm, he would come to me, I know," he said, returning into the room. “He always came into the garden to say good night. But perhaps his illness has only just taken a favorable turn, and it's too late for him to come out, for it's very damp, and there's a heavy dew. It's much better he shouldn't come to-night.”
8. The next day, towards night, an old woman came tottering up the garden as speedily as she could, and meeting the schoolmaster at the door, said he was to go to Dame West's directly, and had best run on before her. He and the child were on the point of going out together for a walk, and without relinquishing her hand, the schoolmaster hurried away, leaving the messenger to follow as she might.
9. They stopped at a cottage door, and the school. master knocked softly at it with his hand. It was opened without loss of time. They passed into an inner room, where his infant friend, half dressed, lay stretched upon a bed.
10. He was a very young boy; quite a little child. His hair still hung in curls about his face, and his eyes were very bright; but their light was of heaven, not earth. The schoolmaster took a seat beside him, and stooping over the pillow, whispered his name. The boy sprang up, threw his wasted arms around his neck, crying out that he was his dear, kind friend.
11. “I hope I always was. I meant to be, God knows," said the poor schoolmaster. “Who is that ? ” said the boy, seeing Nell. “I am afraid to kiss her, lest I should make her ill. Ask her to shake hands with me.”
12. The sobbing child came closer up, and took the little languid hand in hers. Releasing his again after a time, the sick boy laid him gently down.
13. “You remember the garden, Harry," whispered the schoolmaster, anxious to rouse him, for a dulness seemed gathering upon the child, “ and how pleasant it used to be in the evening ? You must make haste to visit it again, for I think the very flowers have missed you, and are less gay than they used to be. You will come soon, my dear, very soon now, won't you ?”.
14. The boy smiled faintly,- so very, very faintly, and put his hand upon his friend's gray head. He moved his lips, too, but no voice came from them, no, not a sound. In the silence that ensued, the hum of distant voices, borne upon the evening air, came floating through the open window.
15. “What's that ?" said the sick child, opening his eyes. “The boys at play upon the green.” He took a handkerchief from his pillow, and tried to wave it above his head. But the feeble arm dropped powerless down. “Shall I do it?” said the schoolmaster.
16. “Please wave it at the window," was the faint reply. “ Tie it to the lattice. Some of them may see it there. Perhaps they'll think of me, and look this way.”
17. He raised his head, and glanced from the fluttering signal to his idle bat, that lay, with slate and book, and other boyish property, upon a table in the room. And then he laid him down softly once more, and asked if the little girl were there, for he could not see her.
18. She stepped forward and pressed the passive hand that lay upon the coverlet. The two old friends and companions — for such they were, though they were man and child — held each other in a long embrace, and then the
little scholar turned his face towards the wall, and fell asleep.
19. The poor schoolmaster sat in the same place, holding the small, cold hand in his, and chafing it. It was but the hand of a dead child. He felt that; and yet he chafed it still, and could not lay it down.
1 A-CHIEVED'. Performed; com- 4 LXT'TỊCE. A window blind or pleted ; done.
screen made by strips and bars 1 CLĚV'ER. Skilful ; dexterous ; able. crossing each other and forming * CON-TĚM'PLĀTE. Consider closely. I open spaces like net-work.
LXXIX. - BREAK, BREAK, BREAK.
[Alfred Tennyson, a living poet of England, was born in 1810. He is a man of fine genius, whose poetry is addressed to refined and cultivated minds. The music of his verse, and his skill in the use of language, are alike excellent. He has an uncommon power of presenting pictures to the eye, and often in a very few words.)
1. BREAK, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
The thoughts that arise in me.
2. O, well for the fisherman's boy,
That he shouts with his sister at play!
That he sings in his boat on the bay !
3. And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
And the sound of a voice that is still !
4. Break, break, break,
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
Will never come back to me.
LXXX.- THE CHARACTER OF GREENE.
1. Next to Washington, Greene was the ablest com mander in the revolutionary army. In person he was above the middle height, and strongly made. He had a fine face, a florid' complexion, and brilliant blue cyes. His natural expression was frank and benevolent. In battle it assumed a sternness that showed, beneath his easy and gentle manners, a strength of purpose not easily overcome. When highly excited, or absorbed in intense thought, he had a habit of rubbing violently his upper lip with his forefinger.
2. Inured to exposure and toil, his frame possessed a wonderful power of endurance, rendered still greater by an indomitable' will. He rose from the ranks, and became a major-general solely by his own genius and force. Ignorant of military tactics”, he applied himself with such diligence to the subject, that he mastered the science in less time than many employ on the rudiments.
3. He had an almost intuitive perception of character. Like Washington, he seemed to take the exact measure of every man who approached him. Many of his actions in the field were based upon this knowledge of his adversaries.
4. In the southern campaigns against Cornwallis, his movements were sometimes considered rash by those who
judged of them merely from the relative position and strength of the armies. But to him, who could judge more correctly from his knowledge of men's views and character than from their transient movements, what course they would take, his plans appeared the wisest he could adopt.
15. A more fearless man never led an army; and his courage was not the result of sudden enthusiasm or excitement, but of a well-balanced and strong character. He was never known to be thrown from his perfect self-possession by any danger, however sudden; he was as calm and collected when his shattered army tossed in a perfect wreck around him, as in his tent at night. The roar of artillery and the tumult of a fierce battle could not disturb the natural action of his mind; his thoughts were as clear, and his judgment as correct, in the midst of a sudden and unexpected overthrow, as in planning a campaign.
6. This was the secret of his power, and explains why, when beaten, he was never utterly routed. No matter how superior his antagonist, or how unexpected the panic of his troops, he was never, like Gates, driven a fugitive from the field. He possessed qualities seldom found united, - great caution and great rapidity. Nothing escaped his glance; he seemed to forecast all the contingencies that did or could happen. His fortitude was wonderful. All exposures, all privations, all embarrassments, toils, and suf. ferings, he bore with a patience that filled his soldiers with astonishment and admiration.
7. The southern army, when he took command, consisted of a mere handful of destitute, undisciplined, and ragged troops. With these he entered the field against one of the best generals of the age, supported by an army of veteran soldiers. With his raw recruits, he immediately began the offensive, and, before his powerful enemy