LITTLE WILFRID'S PETITION. In the reign of Athelstane, one of the old Saxon monarchs, a nobleman, by the name of Cendric, conspired with other traitors against the king. The plot was discovered, the conspirators were put to death, and their estates confiscated for the use of the crown. King Athelstane, who, like his grandfather Alfred the Great, was a just and merciful ruler, used to set apart certain days on which he received petitions from the poor and appeals from the wronged. At these times, his humblest subjects could come to him for redress against the most powerful. On one of these occasions, as he sat on his throne, with a group of nobles and courtiers around him, listening to petitioners and giving alms to the poor, he saw a Saxon lady standing at the lower end of the hall, holding a little boy by the hand, Both were dressed in mourning; the lady wore a widow's veil and barb-that is, a piece of fine white lawn, covering the lower part PHILADELPHIA, JULY, 1855. of the face-which denoted that she was a widow [No. 7. This poor boy never was a traitor. Why should he be doomed to poverty and scorn for his father's fault? Be just and magnanimous, O king, and give him back his own!" Now Cendric's estates were extensive, and the king had found them a very nice addition to the royal domain. So he was about to tell the Lady Ermengarde that her request was unreasonable, and opposed to great political interests, and could not be granted, when his eye fell again on little Wilfrid. The child was still kneeling on the step of the throne, with his little dimpled hands clasped in timid entreaty. He was a very pretty boy, with a fair, frank face, and wavy golden hair, and large blue eyes, which were now swimming in tears. The king was more moved by his innocence and beauty than by the eloquent arguments of his stately mother; and so, after looking at him tenderly and thoughtfully for a few moments, he consented to keep Cendric's property henceforth only in trust for his son, who should have all when he grew to be a man-provided he should remain good and loyal. He would be the guardian of Wilfrid, and have him educated at Oxford, with his younger brother, Prince Edwin, the Heir Apparent. The widow and her son threw themselves at the feet of the king, and thanked him with tears of grateful joy. As Athelstane kindly raised them, he felt in his heart that this generous deed had made him happier than the possession of fifty "Who are you?" said the king, with a grim such estates as Wilfrid's could have done. sort of graciousness. The king waved his hand to these two to approach. They came forward, and knelt on the steps of the throne. Miss Strickland, in her "Stories from English "I am Ermengarde, the widow of Cendric, and History," gives a long and interesting account of this child is Wilfrid, his only son," replied the the trials which Wilfrid encountered in his college widow, with a great deal of dignity. life. But all the troubles and temptatians he met The king started and frowned, and the courtiers with, seemed to make him only stronger and looked shocked and indignant. nobler; for he was always truthful, and faithful, "Will your majesty deign to answer me one and brave; and so, of course, came out right at question ?" said the lady. The king nodded rather stiffly. last. He took possession of his estates, and lived very "Is it right for the innocent to suffer for the happily. He was honored by the king, and, what guilty?" "No," answered Athelstane, with a bluff honesty not often seen in royal personages. "Then," said Ermengarde, who you will see was a woman of spirit, "restore my husband's lands to his son! It is true Cendric plotted against your life; but he lost his own life for his crime. was better, loved and blessed by the poor. He was the pride of the court and country; and what was far nobler in God's sight, the comfort of his widowed mother, the sorrowful Lady Ermengarde. G. G. COUNTRIES I HAVE SEEN. Travels, Descriptions, Tales and Historical Sketches. BY GRACE GREENWOOD. LIMERICK. We travelled from Killarney to Tarbert, on the Shannon, by the stage-coach, passing through sevaal old, but uninteresting towns, and seeing a great deal of barrenness and wretchedness on our way. At Tarbert, we took a steamer to ascend the river to Limerick, and as the weather that afternoon was clear and bright, we had one of the most delightful trips you can imagine. The Shannon is a very noble river-in some places widening out like a sea, and all the way running between beautiful green shores. There is a place in the river, near the mouth, which has somewhat the appearance of rapids, when the tide is coming in. This, the people say, is the site of a sunken city, whose towers and turrets make the roughness of the water. The whole city can be seen every seven years, but, as the sight is said to be unlucky, everybody avoids it. The whole story is about as probable as the one I have told you of the damp and dubious palace of the O'Donoghue. "The City of the Violated Treaty"-at least, until the year 1847, when one evening, a famous tea-party given to the rebel leader, Smith O'Brien, was broken up by a mob-on which occasion, Mr. Punch made a little change in the old title, and called it "The City of the Violated Tea-tray." | The Cathedral of St. Mary's is a large, gloomylooking building, with a very high tower, from which one can get a magnificent view of the surrounding country. In this tower is a very melodious chime of bells, about which there is told a pretty and touching story, which I do not doubt is true. Once there lived in Italy a skilful young artisan, who was celebrated for founding bells. No founder in all Europe could equal him—no chimes in all the world were so grand and sweet-sounding as his. At last, he made a chime for a convent, which proved to be finer than any he had cast before. He had spent years upon them; they were his great work; he was very proud of them; he even seemed to have fallen in love with them, for he could not live out of the sound of their melodious ringing. So he purchased a little villa, in a lovely sea-side nook, beneath the lofty cliff on which the convent stood, and every night and morning, he had the happiness of hearing the solemn silver chiming of his own dear bells, which, when sounding at that height, it almost seemed to him God had taken and hung in the clouds, to call him and his children to prayer and to heaven. But, after a few bright peaceful years, there The good Italian lost all in the terrible struggle home, family-even his beloved bells-for the convent on the cliff was destroyed, and they were carried away to some distant land. At last, he was released from a miserable dungeon, to find himself old, infirm, poor, and alone in the wide world. Then a great longing came to him, and grew and grew at his lonely heart, to hear his bells once more before he should die. So he became a wanderer over Europe, searching for them everywhere. He would be told of wonderful chimes in this and that city, and go many weary leagues to hear them; but as soon as they sounded on his ear, he would sadly shake his head, his eyes would fill with tears, and he would turn to go on his way. Limerick is a pleasant and prosperous city, and has a very honorable name in Irish history. The most interesting object that it contains is the Castle, which was built by King John, and has stood for more than six hundred years. In 1651, Limerick sustained a terrible siege, by the Parliamentary forces under Gen. Ireton, the son-in-came a dark, troubled time of war and pillage. law of Cromwell. It held out for six months, and would not have surrendered then, though the inhabitants were dying of starvation and plague, had it not been for the treachery of an officer of the garrison-one Col. Fennel. Among the most faithful and heroic of the city's defenders, was a priest-Terence Albert O'Brien, Bishop of Emly. He was so active and influential that Ireton made him an offer of forty thousand pounds, (two hundred thousand dollars,) and a free pass to the Continent, if he would cease his exhortations, and advise immediate surrender. He scorned the offer, and so when the city at last fell into the hands of the English, he was tried and condemned to death. He was calm and heroic to the last; but before he was beheaded, he addressed a few solemn, warning words to Ireton, which made the stern soldier's blood curdle. He accused him of cruel injustice, and summoned him to appear before the tribunal of God within a few days. It is a singular fact that in a little more than a week from that time, Ireton died of the plague. Limerick was again besieged in 1690, by William the Third. It was defended by the Irish Catholic adherents of James the Second and their French allies, and so well defended that the King and his army beat a retreat in less than a month. How ever, they made another trial the next year, and with a little better success, for after a six months' siege, the garrison capitulated. A treaty was signed between the two armies, in which it was stipulated that Limerick and the other Irish fortresses should surrender to the new King-that the garrisons should be allowed to march out with all the honors of war, and that they should be provided with shipping to carry them to any country they should please to go to. Then there were several other articles very favorable to the rights and liberties of the Roman Catholics. To the shame of the English government of that day, it must be said that this compact was most dishonorably broken, and through that reign and many succeeding, the Irish Catholics were greatly wronged and meanly persecuted. From this circumstance, Limerick has always been called When, at length, he heard of the sweet bells of Limerick, he was very old and feeble, but he set out at once on what he knew must be his last pilgrimage. The vessel on which he sailed went up the Shannon, and anchored opposite the city. The old Italian took a boat to go on shore, at the close of a calm and beautiful day. He was very weak and ill, and reclined in the stern of the boat, looking longingly toward St. Mary's Cathedral. Suddenly, from the tall tower, rang softly out the vesper chime. The Italian started up joyfully at the sound. Then he crossed himself, looked upward, and murmured-"I thank thee, blessed mother of Jesus! I hear my bells at last!" Then he sank back and closed his eyes and listened. The men rested on their oars, and all was still, except that sweet, solemn ringing. The Italian seemed to hear in his bells more than their old melody-all the music of his happy home-the deep murmur of the sea below the convent cliff-the sighing of the winds in the cypress and olive trees-and sweeter and dearer than all, the voices of his wife and children. They seemed to be softly calling his pious soul to leave the trouble and weariness of earth for the blessedness and rest of God. And his soul obeyed the call,-for when the bells ceased their ringing, and the boatmen rowed to land, they found that the aged stranger was dead. About six miles above Limerick are the Rapids of the Shannon-usually called the Falls of Doonas. These can be part way descended, in long, narrow skiffs, constructed for the purpose, but the feat is a very hazardous one. I went down with a friend and two brave boatmen, but though I enjoyed the adventure, I would not advise any one to follow my example. Not far from Limerick are the ruins of Mungret Priory, said to have been founded by St. Patrick, and which once contained no less than one thou sand five hundred monks. "As wise as the women of Mungret," is a saying among the Irish, which had its rise, according to tradition, in this way: The monks of Cashel having heard great stories of the learning of those of Mungret, resolved to send a deputation to them, to settle the point as to which college possessed the finest scholars in the dead languages. Now the monks of Mungret enjoyed a better reputation for such learning than they deserved-being rather more fond of good living than hard study-so they were mortally afraid of being beaten in the contest, and losing their good name forever. But they hit upon a very ingenious plan of escape from their embarrassment. They dressed up a number of their best scholars-some as women and some as peasants-and placed them along the road by which their rivals must travel. As the deputation came on, they naturally asked the way to Mungret, and put other questions to the persons they met, and to their great astonishment, every question was answered in Greek or Latin. At last, they came to a halt, held a consultation, and prudently resolved to go back to Cashel, as they could not hope to win any honor in a controversy with a Priory of Monks who had so filled all the country around with learning, that even the women and workmen spoke the dead languages fluently. We saw a great deal of poverty, squalor, and idleness, in Limerick, but also much honest industry. We visited the lace and glove manufactories, where many poor girls earn not only their own living, but often that of their families. The peasantry in this county seemed sober and quiet people, but as in other parts of Ireland, they are mostly ignorant and superstitious.— They are workers in the bogs, or day-laborers, and all think themselves very fortunate if they can obtain employment at wages which will keep them and their children from starvation. Beggary is very common everywhere, and is not considered a disgrace, except by the better order of people. There is in Ireland a class of small farmers, who live very respectably and comfortably, though they can never hope to get very much beforehand, as they do not own their farms, are obliged to pay many taxes, and the more valuable they make the land by their industry, the higher is the rent. I have heard a pretty little story about one of these farmer-families, with which I will close this chapter. LITTLE ANDY AND HIS GRANDFATHER. In the county of Waterford once lived an honest old farmer by the name of Walsh. His wife died young, and left him one only child-a son, of whom he was very proud. And Patrick Walsh was worthy of a great deal of affection and respect; for he was a fine, amiable, industrious young man. Unfortunately, Patrick fell in love with a proud, handsome young woman, the daughter of a well-to-do farmer in the neighborhood, and finally persuaded her to marry him, though she gave him to understand pretty plainly that she thought that she was condescending not a little in doing so. Why, the Mullowneys (she was a Mullowney) | he never went on the road-for, from that hour, actually had three rooms in their cabin, and kept Peggy was a better and gentler woman, and tried a horse, two cows, a goat, and a good-sized don- hard to make her house a happy home for her key! And then they had relations who were father-in-law, and so for all her family. To be very well off in the world-in particular, some sure, her besetting sins-pride and temperfourth cousins, who kept a draper's shop in Wa- would break out once in a while, but God was terford, who, though they never visited the stronger than either; she prayed to Him, and He country Mullowneys, couldn't help being an gave her strength to get the better of them at honor to the family. So it was little wonder last. that "Peggy Mullowney Walsh," as she always insisted on being called, held her pretty nose rather high, and curled her red lip a little scornfully, as she stepped into the neat but humble cabin of her handsome young husband. Old Mr. Walsh felt for Patrick, and in order to make his fortune equal the goods and the honors which his wife had brought him, he made over to him the farm and all his possessions, and left himself a penny less dependent upon his son and daughterin-law. Grandfather Walsh lived in comfort and content several years, and on his peaceful death-bed, blessed his son and daughter, and their children, very solemnly and lovingly. When all thought that he was gone, little Andy, who had been very quiet till then, began to cry aloud. The good old man, whose soul was just at the gates of heaven, heard him, opened his eyes, reached out his hand, and blessed his darling once more. Then he died. WRITTEN FOR THE LITTLE PILGRIM. ANNIE GRAY. BY JANET HALE. Have you heard the robin singing in the early May? spray? Never was there song of robin, never blossom gay, THE LITTLE FLOWER. A little child died, and the guardian angel was bearing its soul to heaven. Already they had passed the busy city, the fields of ripe corn, the forest where resounded the woodman's axe, the canals where glided the laden vessels, and the angel had not looked upon them; but when they came to a poor village, he hovered over it, and looked into a dark alley, running through a cluster of decayed huts. There was grass growing through the stones; there was broken pottery, and damp straw, and piles of cinders and ashes thrown out. The angel looked long at the deserted spot, when espying suddenly a pale flower in the ruins, which had opened in the shade, he gave a cry of joy, stooped from the air, and plucked it. The soul of the dead child asked him why he had stopped for a simple field-flower, without beauty or fragrance. "Thou seest, at the bottom of this alley a cabin, with the roof broken by the snows, and its walls seamed by the rain. There lived once a child of thy age, afflicted from his birth. When he quitted his little straw bed, leaning on his willow crutches, he went two or three times up and down the alley-it was all. He had never seen the sun but from his window. When the summer brought back its bright rays, the little afflicted creature came and sat in their All went well for a few years, for Patrick honored and loved his father, and did all that he could to make him happy and comfortable. But I am sorry to say that Mrs. Peggy never was very kind to him. With her high notions, she rather looke down upon him than felt grateful to him for being simple enough to give up all his property to his son. Then she was selfish and violent tempered, and did not like "the bother of an owld body like him about the cabin." Still, she bore with him, for he made himself quite useful, mostly in taking care of the children, especially of the oldest boy, Andy. This child was all the comfort the old grandfather had. He was always gentle and loving to him, and made him as little trouble as possible. Sometimes, when the poor old man was lying awake at night, grieving over the hard, scornful treatment of his Yet by very love made fearful, oft we looked to proud daughter-in-law, and praying God to take him to a home of peace and love, where he would never be "in the way" any more, little Andy I would hear his low sobs, and go to him, creep As we marked her blue eyes sparkling, and her leaves, and the birds singing around. One day close to his desolate old heart, and whisper- But the older and more feeble her father-in-law grew, the more unkindly Mrs. Peggy treated him, till she made the cabin such a scene of constant storm and confusion that everybody in it was wretched. At last old Mr. Walsh came to a resolution to put an end to all this trouble. He would take to the road-that is, go a-begging. "The Lord will take care of me," he said: "He who feeds the sparrows will put it into the hearts of good Christians to give me all that I need." Of course, Patrick was sad at the thought of his old father becoming a mendicant; but he was a peaceable man and ruled by his wife; he was tired of her scolding and complaints, and so, at last, consented. As for Mrs. Peggy, she was very glad; she thought it was the best thing the "owld body" could do, and set about making a beggar's bag for him at once. He was to start the next morning. Little Andy heard all the talk, but did not say anything, He sat in a corner, busily at work, sewing up his bib. "What's that yer doing Andy, darling?" said his father. The child looked up at him sadly and reproachfully, and answered-" Making a bag, for you to go beg-when you're as old as gran'daddy." Patrick Walsh burst into tears, flung his arms around his old father's neck, and begged his forgiveness. And even the proud Peggy was so affected that she fell upon her knees and asked pardon of God, of her husband and his father, for her undutiful conduct. For his part, the good old man forgave her at once. I need hardly say that our way, Whatsoe'er their mood or manner, young and old would say, God from every evil keep thee, darling Annie Gray! know If her red lip lost its color, if her step grew slow, grow cheeks soft glow. But we saw her form grow slighter, wasting day by On her cheek a deeper flushing, red as sunset lay, ray, And we knew our flower was fading in our grasp light; he looked at the blood circulating feebly in his thin hands, and said, 'I am better.' Never had he seen the green of the meadows or the forest. Only the little children sometimes brought him branches of the poplar, which he laid around him on his bed. Then he would dream that he was lying in the shade of the woods, that the sunshine was dancing through the his elder sister brought him a little field-flower, with its root. He planted it in an old earthen pot, and God prospered the plant tended by the weak hand. It was the sick child's garden; the little flower was to him the meadows, the woods, the waters, the creation. As long as he lived he nursed it. shine that his little window suffered to enter; he He gave it all the air and the sunwatered it each evening, and told it good-bye till next morning, as if it were a friend. But when God called away the little martyr, his family quitted the village, the alley was abandoned, and the simple flower surrounded with ruins. Then And we saw that God was granting, in His own good the providence of God preserved it where I have just gathered it." away. Then we thought how many evils in life's journey How her heart might lose its freshness, how her feet way, All that we had asked of blessing, for dear Annie "Who told you all that?" demanded the soul of the child. Then there came a time of sorrow, when her pulses' sick child who walked on his willow crutches. "I was myself," said the angel, "the little REMARKABLE SWIFTNESS OF THE EAGLE.-A gentleman travelling, not long since, in one of the steamboats on the Delaware river, observed the following instance of the amazing swiftness and power of vision of the proud monarch of the feathered tribes: A hawk was hovering near the boat, and suddenly descended to the river, but immediately after rose, bearing a fish in his talons. He had soared upward to a considerable height, when an eagle was seen at a great altitude, grandly circling downward toward the hawk, who apparently seemed in much trepidation. Before the eagle reached him, however, he hastily dropped the fish, and winged a rapid flight. The eagle, swift as the wind, darted after the falling fish with an unerring aim, and seized it before it had time to reach the water. Hittle Pilgrime. PHILADELPHIA, JULY, 1855. Specimen copies furnished free of charge. "I will tell you of some of Little P.'s calls. WRITTEN FOR THE LITTLE PILGRIM. He asked one lady if he might visit her little HISTORY OF ANCIENT ROME. black-eyed girl and boy. I would like your All subscriptions must begin with the first Willie, ready for next year. I'll run of errands, pile wood, pick up chips-do anything that's honest, so as to earn that paper.' number of the volume. Remember that by sending us one dollar instead of fifty cents, you can get The Little Pilgrim from the first of January, 1854, to the first of December, 1855-two years. THE LITTLE PILGRIM may be obtained every month at the periodical establishments of DEXTER & BROTHER, 14 and 16 Ann Street, New York; FEDERHEN & Co., Boston, Mass.; R. W. MOTT, Cincinnati; C. TABER & Co., New Bedford, Mass.; KELLENBERGER & ATWOOD, Alton, Illinois; D. M. DEWEY, Rochester, New York. REMOVALS. As this is the season for "moving," our subscribers will please remember that it is necessary "That is right, my boy-you are a genuine "Yes, yes, come in, my good little fellow,' said We have been so much gratified by the followfor them to let us know where they have moved ing note, that we cannot resist the inclination to to and where they have moved from. COMPLIMENTS. Our "Little Pilgrim" dislikes, usually, to repeat the commendations of which he receives so many; but the two communications which follow are particularly grateful to us-the first, because it assures us that we have succeeded in what we have worked for, more earnestly and anxiously than our readers can know, and because it closes with some excellent suggestions, which we could wish those of our friends who have control and influence over schools and other institutions for the benefit of children, to act upon. The second article we publish because it is pretty in itself, and because it may suggest to some little boys and girls a way in which they can get the half dollar to pay "The Little Pilgrim's" yearly expenses. "Permit me to say I am pleased-yes, charmed-with your little paper. It has not been my fortune ever before to meet with a Youth's paper that I could conscientiously put into the hands of my children. The age, I think, demands more of such papers to supply the young with mental food, free from the poison that some juvenile papers contain. "This Little Pilgrim' should be introduced into all Orphan Asylums and District School Libraries, and into all families where there are any children over two years old. "I shall send my duplicate numbers on missionary tours in the neighborhood, not doubting but that they will do some good. "Respectfully, your friend, J. S." We should gladly have given the whole of the second article, but for the too flattering personality of so ne portions. After warmly extolling the "Little Pilgrim's" merits, the writer adds: "And now, children, what do you think 'Little Pilgrim' asks for all his hard labor and trouble? Why, only fifty cents for bringing you twelve packages of jewels, pearls, and precious gems. Will you permit a working man, whose music is the harsh grating of the handsaw, and whose destiny is toil, toil, toil, to contribute an article for your beautiful little journal? Sometimes my repining spirit suggests that I have little to thank God for; but I do thank Him that somebody cares for the children-for in this world of selfishness and distrust, they need kindly counsel, and gentle hands, and loving hearts to lead them onward. God speed you on your way! THE LITTLE BOY'S PRAYER. BY CHARLES SAYRE. My father, the guide of my youth, On thee in life's morning I call: The humblest and weakest of all,- Soon manhhood will come with its cares, Oh pilot me safe through the gale! I ask it through Him who was lowly in mind, Ere long will life's journey be past I must part from the friends that I love, Ere we meet in the great home above. I too must lie down where my Saviour has lain, Oh may I think often of Him Who folded the lambs to his breast, For of such is the Kingdom of Rest." BY JAMES W. WALL. CHAPTER X. The Senate, as I told you in the last chapter, manifested their indignation at the boldness of Servius in thus aspiring to the throne, without the constitutional sanction of the people. But the cunning of Servius was more than a match for the wisdom and power of the Senate. He called an assembly of the people, and having placed beside him the two grandsons of the deceased King, who afterwards married his daughters, he entreated them to unite with him in taking charge of the children of a prince whose memory ought to be cherished by every Roman. And then, that he might ingratiate himself with the lower orders of the people, he pledged himself to protect them against the patricians, or high-born, who, he artfully insinuated, were endeavoring to deprive them of their liberties. About this time, the conduct of the Volsci and some other nations, who endea vored to throw off the yoke of subjection imposed upon them by Rome, enabled Servius to divert the attentions of the Senate from himself, and by the bravery and generalship he manifested in conducting the war to a successful termination, to excite for himself the admiration of Rome. He subdued these rebellious peoples, and caused a triumph to be decreed to him, notwithstanding the opposition of the Senate. He divided the lands of the vanquished equally among the ancient inhabitants of Rome, but conferred upon such of the conquered as agreed to remain, the name and privileges of Roman citizens. He now very wisely judged that the time had come to make a demonstration towards seizing the regal power, as you know he had not yet assumed the crown. He wanted to give his power the appearance of right, which it yet wanted. He assembled the citizens, and in a most moving speech, which drew tears from the eyes of his hearers, he informed them that the patricians, enraged at him for the privileges he had conferred upon the mass of the people, now sought his life-that, in fact, assassination had been attempted. He, therefore, with apparent sincerity, besought them, in order to relieve him of the dangers that surrounded him, to bestow the crown either upon the grandsons of Tarquin, or else upon the sons of Ancus, who were now in banishment. He then, with great dissimulation, descended the tribune, as if he was anxious not to influence their decision. The result he had anticipated followed. The people cried out with one voice"We will have no king but Servius Tullius!" He besought them to change their determination, and they only importuned him the more, to take the crown. Then, as if he was forced by his regard for the people, he told them that he would consent if they would have a regular election, according to the forms of the Constitution. This dissimulation of Servius has been imitated in our day, by the present Emperor of the French people, Louis Napoleon. Of course, when the election was had, Servius was declared elected king by an immense majority. The wife of Tarquin, Tanaguil, who had always favored Servius, died shortly after this event; and, grateful for what she had done, and desiring to perpetuate the memory of her domestic virtues, which are, after all, the true glory of a woman, he hung up her distaff as an emblem of her industry in the Temple of Hercules, which he had built. Finding himself now secure upon his throne, Servius began to make manifest the great talents he possessed, and to justify the wisdom of the popular election. One of his first and most judicious acts was to bring together in bands of the closest friendship, the neighboriug nations who surrounded Rome, and who so often had plunged her into war. He enjoined these nations to send deputies to Rome, as he had an affair of importance to lay before them. On their arrival, he proposed to them to build a temple to Diana, who you know was one of the most famous of the heathen goddesses, and presided over hunting, and to ordain that the contracting nations should there offer, in union with the Romans, their annual sacrifices; and that the festival should be succeeded by a council, in which all differences should be amicably settled, and proper measures adopted for maintaining a good understanding; and that where the ceremony was conducted, there a fair should be held, where all would find the necessary supplies for their wants. His proposition was accepted by acclamation. The temple was built, and year after year of peace and plenty attested the wisdom of Servius. The agreement entered into was engraved on a pillar, which pillar is said to have been standing at the time of Christ, as several writers of the period mention it. Growing bolder and bolder, and urged on by the importunities of his wicked and ambitious wife, Tarquin at last summoned the king to answer before the Senate to the accusation of being an usurper. Servius was too judicious to appear before this body, but had recourse to his old friends, the plebeians, and immediately summoned an assembly of the people. Here, in a long and eloquent speech, he laid before them the persecutions and ambitious desires of Tarquin, and denounced him and his wife as murderers; and no sooner had he finished speaking, than the people cried, "Let Servius reign! We will have no king but Servius!" But even this rebuke did not intimidate the bold conspirators, Tarquin and Tullia. They labored constantly to strengthen their cause among the Senators and patricians, and excited some of the boldest projects that could be imagined. repeated after the census, every five years. Hence the Romans came to compute time by lustrations, just as the Greeks did by olympiads, after their Olympian Games. He also accomplished much towards the improvement and embellishment of Rome. His death was indeed a sad loss to his people. (TO BE CONTINUED.) WRITTEN FOR THE LITTLE PILGRIM. TO WILLIE. BY LOUISE E. VICKROY. Come and sit beside me, Willie, Hills and mountains all around it, And And There the sunbeams chase the shadows the bees are always humming midst the flowerets And where forest leaves are rustling, and sweet. There you'll hear, and Oh, 'tis pleasant, The low drumming of the pheasant, the chatter of the squirrel, as he climbs the hickory tree; And across the fields of clover, See the waters dashing over One morning, when everything was ripe for final action, Tarquin arrayed himself in the most costly and sumptuous apparel, and with his servants bearing the emblems of royal power before him, passed rapidly across the Forum, entered the Senate chamber, and most impudently seated himself upon the throne! Then rising, he delivered a speech, full of invective against the king, And the songs that they are singing, are most exquisite whom he declared a slave, a demagogue, or panderer to the passions of the people, as an enemy of the Senate and the patrician order. While he was in the midst of this bold and impudent harangue, the king entered, and advancing to the throne by the aid of his soldiers, forced the usurper to quit it. At this, the friends of Tarquin in the Senate rushed upon the soldiery, and during the struggle, Tarquin caught up Servius in his arms, and rushing to the door of the Senate chamber, hurled him from the steps of the portico. Falling upon his head, his neck was broken, and the corpse of the old king rolled upon the I have launched my paper ships, the while my heart pavement in the front of the Senate house. The abandoned Tullia, hearing the result of this enterprise, which she herself had planned, came almost instantly, arrayed in most splendid garments, and spurning the dead body of her father with her foot, as she passed over the pavement, entered the chamber of the Senate. Here she was the first to salute her husband as king, and the Senators did not long hesitate to follow her shameful example. It now became necessary to attach more strongly to himself his wards, Tarquinius and Ancus, the grandsons of the late king, and he bestowed on them his two daughters. The two daughters of Servius were unlike in dispositions. One was haughty, ambitious, and cruel—the other, mild, gentle, and loving; and the same difference manifested itself in the disposition of these two grandsons of Tarquin. Ancus, the younger, was remarkable for his mild and peaceful nature. He loved the quiet and repose that the domestic virtues always impart, and had no ambition to tread the stormy paths of public life. Tarquin, the elder, on the contrary, was fierce and haughty in his nature, and ambitious of public honors and distinctions. Now it unfortunately happened that Ancus took the proud and wicked Tullia for his wife, while Tarquin was married to her gentle and loving sister. A similarity of inclination soon drew together Tullia and Tarquin, and it was not long before this wretched and abandoned woman had the wicked hardihood to propose to Tarquin the wholesale murder of her own father, her sister, and her brother-in-law, so that she might sweep away every obstacle in the pathway Thus cruelly perished Servius Tullius, and of Tarquin to the throne. History presents to us notwithstanding his bad faith towards the grandvery few monsters of wickedness equal to this sons of Tarquin, it must be admitted that he ever woman, Tullia. employed wise and judicious measures for the Tarquin was easily led by her, and soon poi-security and happiness of his people. He was soned his own wife, while Tullia destroyed, in the same manner, Ancus, her husband; and then these two wretches had the effrontery to call upon the king and ask his permission to marry each other. The suspicions of Servius had been aroused by the sudden and simultaneous deaths of both daughter and son-in-law, and indignant at their boldness, he not only refused his consent, but threatened them with deserved punishment. But not intimidated, they united themselves in marriage, and then soon gave utterance to their ambitious aspirations. "Servius," said they, "is but an usurper, who, under the name of guardian, has robbed his wards of their inheritance. This old and infirm man is incapable of bearing the weight of public affairs, and he ought to make way for a prince more capable of governing." The Senate and patricians, whom Servius had more than once humbled, readily espoused the interest of Tarquin; and he, emboldened by their countenance, endeavored to corrupt the integrity of the common people by the distribution of large sums of money. The mill-dam, into wreaths of foam, as white as The white can be. Oh, how often stealing thither, In the golden summer weather, But those days are gone forever, And to me such sports shall never Come back, for this, remember, was when I too was a child; When For And But to you, a welcome comer, They'll be just as fresh next summer your childish feet are straying 'midst our woodlands sweetly wild. Oh, to me my home, though lowly, Is a place most sweet and holy, there my yearning heart may find all it most loves on earth; There my brothers' laugh is ringing, There my sisters are a-singing, my parents' kindly glances make the sunlight of our hearth. the joint originator of the census, which made the There our feelings all are blended, away; While we read the stirring story lay. Now you wish to be there, don't you? When the days are long and lovely, and the year is Servius introduced another institution, evincing his sagacity. He ordered all the Roman citizens to assemble in arms in the Campus Martius, a large field in the vicinity of Rome, on the banks of the Tiber, which field Romulus had dedicated to Mars, and there he caused them to perform expia- If you come there, darling Willie, in the pleasant tory sacrifices to the gods. This sacrifice was called a Lustrum, and it continued to be regularly Oh, we'll all be glad to meet you, summer time. PHILADELPHIA. |