When in the harvest heat she bore to the reapers at noon

tide

Flagons of home-brewed ale, ah! fair in sooth was the maiden.

Firmly builded with rafters of oak, the house of the farmer

Stood on the side of a hill commanding the sea; and a

shady

Sycamore grew by the door, with a woodbine wreathing around it.

Rudely carved was the porch, with seats beneath; and a

footpath

Led through an orchard wide, and disappeared in the meadow.

Farther down, on the slope of the hill, was the well with

its moss-grown

Bucket, fastened with iron, and near it a trough for the horses.

Shielding the house from storms, on the north, were the barns and the farm-yard.

There stood the broad-wheeled wains and the antique ploughs and the harrows.

Bursting with hay were the barns, themselves a village. In each one

Far o'er the gable projected a roof of thatch; and a stair

case,

Under the sheltering eaves, led up to the odorous cornloft.

In-doors, warm by the wide-mouthed fireplace, idly the farmer

Sat in his elbow-chair and watched how the flames and the smoke-wreaths

Struggled together like foes in a burning city. Behind

him,

Nodding and mocking along the wall, with gestures

fantastic,

Darted his own huge shadow, and vanished away into darkness.

Faces, clumsily carved in oak, on the back of his arm

chair

Laughed in the flickering light; and the pewter plates on the dresser

Caught and reflected the flame, as shields of armies the sunshine.

Fragments of song the old man sang, and carols of Christ

mas,

Such as at home, in the olden time, his fathers before

him

Sang in their Norman orchards and bright Burgundian

vineyards.

From "Evangeline." Abridged.

THE SACRIFICE OF MARCUS CURTIUS

BY TITUS LIVIUS LIVY

Translation of Alfred Church

In the three hundred and ninety-third year after the building of Rome there was seen suddenly to open in the market-place a great gulf of a deepness that no man could measure. And this gulf could not be filled up, though all the people brought earth and stones and the like to cast into it. But at the last there was sent a message from the gods that the Romans must inquire what was that by which more than all things the state was made strong. "For," said the soothsayer, "this thing must be dedicated to the gods in this place if the commonwealth of Rome is to stand fast for ever." And while they doubted, one Marcus Curtius, a youth that had won great renown in war, rebuked them, saying, "Can ye doubt that Rome hath nothing better than arms and valor?"

Then all the people stood silent; and Curtius, first beholding the temples of the immortal, gods that hung over the market-place and the capitol, and afterward stretching forth his hands both to heaven above and to this gulf that opened its mouth to the very pit, as it were, of hell, devoted himself for his country; and so-being clothed in armor and with arms in his hand, and having his horse

arrayed as sumptuously as might be he leaped into the gulf; and the multitude, both of men and women, threw in gifts and offerings of the fruits of the earth, and afterward the earth closed together.

Abridged.

ABOU BEN ADHEM

BY LEIGH HUNT

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,

"What writest thou?"-The vision raised its head,
And, with a look made of all sweet accord,

Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou; "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel.-Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men."
The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again,' with a great wakening light,
And showed the names, whom love of God had blessed,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest!

THE SHIPWRECK

BY CHARLES DICKENS

It was broad day-eight or nine o'clock; the storm raging, and some one knocking and calling at my door. "What is the matter?" I cried.

"A wreck! Close by!"

I sprang out of bed, and asked, what wreck?

"A schooner, from Spain or Portugal, laden with fruit and wine. Make haste, sir, if you want to see her! It's thought, down on the beach, she'll go to pieces every

moment."

The excited voice went clamoring along the staircase; and I wrapped myself in my clothes as quickly as I could, and ran into the street.

Numbers of people were there before me, all running in one direction, to the beach. I ran the same way, outstripping a good many, and soon came facing the wild sea.

The wind might by this time have lulled a little, but the sea, having upon it the additional agitation of the whole night, was infinitely more terrific than when I had seen it last. Every appearance it had then presented, bore the expression of being swelled; and the height to which the breakers rose, and, looking over one another, bore one another down, and rolled in, in interminable hosts, was most appalling.