are making lively work, raking up the dispersed grass, and flying with right nimble steps here and there, bent upon cheating the rain of its expected prey. 17. And now the long windrows are formed. The last load of hay from the other fields has just rolled triumphantly into the barn! Down jumps John, with fork in hand, and rolls up the windrows into cocks. We follow and glean with the rake. The last one is fashioned. 18. A drop pats down on my face, another, and another. Look at those baseless mountains that tower in the west, black as ink at the bottom, glowing like snow at the top edges! Far in the north the rain has begun to streak down upon old Greylock! 19. But the sun is shining through the shower, and changing it to a golden atmosphere, in which the mountain lifts up its head like a glorified martyr amid his persecutions! Only a look can we spare, and all of us run for the house, and in good time. 20. Down comes the flood, and every drop is musical. We pity the neighbors who, not warned by a barometer, are racing and chasing to secure their outlying crop. H. W. Beecher. EXERCISE. 1. A thin mist hovers over the river. 2. We will cut the clover, and prepare to get in yesterday's mow ing. 3. The heavens overhead look like 'rain. 4. These things kill the lilies in the cheek and bring forth roses. 5. We must haste, and make hay while the sun shines. 6. They poise a moment in the air. 7. All the girls and ladies come forth to the fray. [Contest.] 8. Delicate hands are raking up the dispersed grass. 9. They are flying with right nimble steps here and there. 10. Look at the mountains that tower in the west. 11. All of us run for the house, and in good time. 12. Down comes the flood, and every drop is musical. [Pleasing to the ear.] 13. The neighbors are racing and chasing to secure their hay. XV. — BRING BACK MY FLOWERS. A I. CHILD sat by a limpid stream, And gazed upon the tide beneath ; · II. And time flew on, and flower by flower She woke up from her blissful dream. 66 Bring back the flowers I flung to thee!" But echo's voice alone replied, As danced the streamlet down the lea; And still, amid night's gloomy hours, 66 In vain she cried, “ Bring back my flowers!" III. O maiden, who on time's swift stream Into thy hand by mercy given, And let its incense rise to heaven; Else when death's shadow o'er thee lowers, Thy heart will wail, "Bring back my flowers!" I' XVI. — THE BOSTON MASSACRE. T was now the 3d of March, 1770. The sunset music of the British regiments was heard, as usual, throughout the town. The shrill fife and rattling drum awoke the echoes in King Street, while the last ray of sunshine was lingering on the cupola of the town-house. 2. And now, all the sentinels were posted. One of them marched up and down before the custom-house, treading a short path through the snow, and longing for the time when he would be dismissed to the warm fireside of the guard room. 3. In the course of the evening there were two or three slight commotions, which seemed to indicate that trouble was at hand. Small parties of young men stood at the corners of the streets, or walked along the narrow pavements. Squads of soldiers, who were dismissed from duty, passed by them, shoulder to shoulder, with the regular step which they had learned at the drill. Whenever these encounters took place, it appeared to be the object of the young men to treat the soldiers with as much incivility as possible. 4. "Turn out, you lobster-backs!" one would say. "Crowd them off the sidewalks!" another would cry. 'A red-coat has no right in Boston streets." 5 "O, you rebel rascals!" perhaps the soldiers would reply, glaring fiercely at the young men. Some day or other we'll make our way through Boston streets, at the point of the bayonet !" 6. Once or twice such disputes as these brought on a scuffle; which passed off, however, without attracting much notice. About eight o'clock, for some unknown cause, an alarm-bell rang loudly and hurriedly 7 At the sound many people ran out of their houses, supposing it to be an alarm of fire. But there were no flames to be seen, nor was there any smell of smoke in the clear, frosty air, so that most of the townsmen went back to their own firesides. Others, who were younger and less prudent, remained in the streets. 8. Later in the evening, not far from nine o'clock, several young men passed down King Street towards the custom-house. When they drew near the sentinel, he halted on his post, and took his musket from his shoulder, ready to present the bayonet at their breasts. Who goes there?" he cried, in the gruff tones of a soldier's challenge. 9. The young men, being Boston boys, felt as if they had a right to walk in their own streets, without being accountable to a British red-coat. They made some rude answer to the sentinel. There was a dispute, or, perhaps, a scuffle. Other soldiers heard the noise, and ran hastily from the barracks, to assist their comrade. 10. At the same time many of the town's-people rushed into King Street, by various avenues, and gathered in a crowd about the custom-house. It seemed wonderful how such a multitude had started up, all of a sudden. 11. The wrongs and insults which the people had been suffering for many months now kindled them into a rage. They threw snowballs and lumps of ice at the soldiers. As the tumult grew louder, it reached the cars of Captain Preston, the officer of the day. He immediately ordered eight soldiers of the main guard to take their muskets and follow him. They marched across the street, forcing their way roughly through the crowd, and pricking the town'speople with their bayonets. 12. A gentleman (it was Henry Knox, afterwards General of the American Artillery) caught Captain Preston's arm. "For Heaven's sake, sir," exclaimed he, "take heed what you do, or here will be bloodshed!" 13. "Stand aside!" answered Captain Preston, haughtily. "Do not interfere, sir. Leave me to manage the affair.” 14. Arriving at the sentinel's post, Captain Preston drew up his men in a semicircle, with their faces to the crowd. When the people saw the officer, and beheld the threatening attitude with which the soldiers fronted them, their rage became almost uncontrollable. 15. " Fire, you lobster-backs!" bellowed some. 'You dare not fire, you cowardly red-coats," cried others. 16. "Rush upon them!" shouted many voices. "Drive the rascals to their barracks! Down with them! Down with them! Let them fire, if they dare!" Amid the uproar the soldiers stood glaring at the people with the fierceness of men whose trade was to shed blood. 17. O, what a crisis had now arrived! Up to this very moment, the angry feelings between England and America. might have been pacified. England had but to stretch out the hand of reconciliation, and acknowledge that she had hitherto mistaken her rights, but would do so no more. Then the ancient bonds of brotherhood would again have been knit together as firmly as in old times. 18. But, should the king's soldiers shed one drop of American blood, then it was a quarrel to the death. Never, never would America rest satisfied, until she had torn down the royal authority, and trampled it in the dust. 19. "Fire, if you dare, villains!" hoarsely shouted the people, while the muzzles of the muskets were turned upon them; "you dare not fire!" 20. They appeared ready to rush upon the levelled bayonets. Captain Preston waved his sword, and uttered a command which could not be distinctly heard amid the uproar of shouts that issued from a hundred throats. But his soldiers deemed that he had spoken the fatal mandate, 'Fire!" The flash of their muskets lighted up the street, and the report rang loudly between the edifices. It rose 21 A gush of smoke overspread the scene. heavily, as if it were loath to reveal the dreadful spectacle beneath it. Eleven of the sons of New England lay stretched upon the street. Some, sorely wounded, were struggling to rise again. Others stirred not, nor groaned, |