THE PASSING YEAR. From the old woods, din' and lonely Collies a moan There the winds are sighing only:— •Qummor s gone! All the bright and sunny hours, And the green and leafy bowers, With the summer's latest flowers Are faded now; And the lame Of the waning year; liras been twined With dyhig leaves; And the gathering of the-sheaves Tolls us, Autumn's hero. Now the winds go loudly moaning, Through the vales; And the forest trees are groaning Mournful tales Of decays that swiftly gather, Of the Coming wintry weather, Of the snow, that liken feather Soon will fall; And the call Of death is sighing, Over all the rippling streams; And the summer's llng' r ing gleams Aro sadly dying. 'Tip the waning, waning twilight Of the year That hovers now all strangely blight, Round us here; And goon the year will pass sway, •Like the light of an autumn day, Adown the winter's dim highway, l'o its tomb And the gloom Of the silent tared . Will rest on the bright years flown ; And the winds of time will moan O'er the dreamless band. gthr t Tale. From the Saturday Evening Nl:til HAROLD AND PHIL ; Or, " DA RE TO DO RIGHT, AND TRUST - TILE It EST To 'Come, Harold, it is seldom that you require a,-.second summons to the ten-table: co,' I thank you, mamma, I 'do nit want any supper this evening.' The neat, well spread table, looked most inviting, the lamp's soft light shone upon a (-luster of joyO us young faces around it. The mother had not at first noticed,- amid the cheerful clamor of the young children, that IlaKyld, her eldest son, whose laugh was gen erally the loudest, and whose appetite, sharp ened by many a fine game with- his school mates, usually the most eager, now sat far in a shaded corner of.the-front parlor, his arms folded upon a table, and his - head resting upon thi•m. 'Are you quite well rr6. son r she enquired anxious]) 'Very well, mamma ; but I don't want and• thing to eat.' His mothet: -. 'Waited until the wants of all the little Ones were •supplied, and then went quietly to Harold's side; her hand rested M'ath's firm but gentle:clasp upon his shoulder, his head still drooped. 'You have done nothing wrong, my son?' Harold looked up into her face—ii Over there were truth telling eyes, they were his. 'Nothing, mamma; my error in this case 10..4 been iu doing my duty too strictly.' 'Alc,l then, all is right,' said his mother, with a smile of relief, 'and after those noisy little creatures there have gone to bed, we will have one of our talks, Harold;and mam ma Will hear all about it. There can be no • trouble that we cannot see our way pretty clearly through, provided there can be no sin • ,behind it. But come, now, there are a few of our favorite cream biscuits still 'left, after the foray that Tom and Julian have made upon the table, and I cannot eat myself with any satisfaction, unless I have my boy's bright face before me.' Harold's trouble, whatever it was, lost half its sting in the ready sympathy of his moth er, and he was soon among the group around the tea-table, joining, withal good will, in the attack upon the biscuits, and taking Master Tom to task, for appropriating the largest share of the marmalade. 'Now Harold,' said his mother, after the tea-things had been removed, and the little straggler had put up his 'moth for the good night kiss, and departed; 'here is room for you in this large chair at my side ; now let us have the confession.' 'lt's all because of Mr. Ward,- mamma,' exclaimed Harold, firing up suddenly; hare to obey him, and he has no right to make ouch rules. The bops say that . , all school masters are tyrants, and I am beginning to think so too.' 'Harold!' said leis mother coldly, 'what Ain to understand by this outbreak? 11 you cannot keep your temper, you had better go to bed with your brothers.' 'Oh, mamma, forgive my violence ; but whoa I think of what happened to-day in school, "feel so angry, in spite of myself.---: pottni. EMI You knoa , , that Mr. Ward'appoints monitors over, the different classes, and requires of them a regtilar Tepprt.after school is over, each day, of the conduce of-the boys, their punctuality, dilligence . and--<0 . 6. Often these monitors, for fear of being called mean, by the boys, will pass over their misdemean- ON, and not mark them; but I cannot dol that. inlmina, when Mr. Ward tells me that he reposes a trust• in me, and relies on obedience,'l must obey at 1111 risks. rim taught the that, mamma. Well, to-day it was my turn to be monitor ; we were all on the play ground half an hour before school, and Phil Stanton came to me and said, that he had left his ball at home—that be and the other boys had arranger; to havea fine game at recess, and that he was going to make a desperate run home, and be back before school was called. I begged ljim not to try, as he could not be,back in time, and I should have to mark him for being too late.' 'That you will never do, Harry,' said he, 'when you know that I have been trying so hard for a prize this year, and if you give me a bad mark, I shall lose my chance.' • - 'Then why go, Phil,' said I ; 'I tell you I must report yOn, if you are too late.' 'Oh ! I must go i I promised the boys to have the ball here, and I will not disapPoint ME `But Phil,' said I, `it is your ditty to he at chool in time, audit is my duty to markyou you are not 'Well, Mr. Particular,' said lie, 'I tell you I am coining back in time ; I'll he off like a Hash, and I'll run all the WV ; Lut niind ; rely on your friendship, Barry, to get me out of the scrape, if any thing happen. 4 to detain me.' - 'lie ran off, mamma, laughing and looking hack, every now and then, till he was out of - sight. You don't know how I love Phil—all the boys love him—he is se lively and so generous ; he is very lazy to be sure, and has a high temper; but it is seldom roused, and though he is continually getting into serapes, it is always on account of doing some kihd thing fol.. the other boys. He never has been able to get a prize during all the four years that we have been at school together, tial ht the last examination, he was so much morti. tied by his failure, that he has been req.) . trying this year, and all boys are trying for him—they screen his faults, and I help him too, whenever I cans and you may know how I bated the idea of giving him a bad mark. I knew how it would be, and I went to Mr. Ward before school, and entrusted him to excuse me from being monitor to-day, and to appoint another bay. He insisted upon knowing' why ; of course J could not tell him, and he was very stern and refused my request. Ile would not, he said, gratify any idle ca price, besides, he depended on me, as his as. sistant was ill, and he would lmve to be a great deal in anotl4r room with the little boys. I rely on you, sir,' said he, `to keep order in your class, and ko bring me a full report; I have implicit confidence in you.' `Mamma, what right has Mr. Ward to make one a spy on the other boys ? I don't want to stay at school where there are such odious regulatiors.' `You forget, kyour excitement, my dear boy, that Mr. Ward paid you the highest com pliment in his power, when he expressed such confidence in you. You forget, too, I think, all his unwearied pains in teaching you for so many years—his' oft expressed pleasure at your progress, and the gratifying testimonials of his , approbation that you have received at each Succeeding examination.— Surely, Harold,'Mr. Ward gives the boys a full chance to behave properly, acid if they merit an ill report by their misconduct, they have no one to blame but themselves.' Oh, nmmma, ,boys don't thirk sO . ; they •ill have their fun, and they think. it very man in the. others to betray them. You do of know how much a boy hates to be Palled En `BILt go on with your story, Harold,' said is niotlier `Well, mamma, you can guess the rest.- 7 'hil came in fincen minutes too late ; but fr. Wakl was not in the room and need never lave known, if I had not marked him; and t was the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life. Ife came in almost breathless— his cheeks porlectly crimson, and his hair all blown ascot, by the wind—he ryas at my side in a moment, and whispe-red— 'lndeed, Harry, 1 NVOILIII ha ve been het•e long ago, but just at the Bout of the long hill, Imet poor little Jack Ryan stumping along on Iliscratch, and 1 had-to bring him all the way upon my back, qui just as I reached the top, the little fellow's hat fell otr, and blew e'er so Ihr, and be set up'sueli a cry, that I Lad to give chase to that; so here I am with `all my iniperfectiniis!;C inarlcnicif you dare,% yas laughing now; but 'when I said I must report . you, Phil, bat 1 will,' tell Mr.. __ flr4k Ward, after school, all about your kindness to little Jack, and I am sure I can get you off, his clouded with anger, and he !Nonsense, Harry, don't you know that Mr. Ward will impish me for my first offence, for going borne again after my balk' `I cannot help it, Phil,' said I, sadly enough. I think if he hatl._not been so angry, he would have seen how sorry I really was, must mark you, and bosit es, if you do not go to your seat at once, and atop talking, I must report you for misconduct also.' `His eyes fairly flashed when I said this, and he said he did not care now, - as he was in for one bad mark, he might as well have two. He was perfectly uproarious after this. and giNthe other boys up to all sorts of mis chief, until I was forced to report him and two or three others, for misconduct. They could afford to get a few bad marks, but he could not, and now the examination comes on next week, and -he has lost all chance of the prize that he had set his heart on, and all through mew-how I wish I could give him mine.' Ifai old's face went down again into his hands 'My son,' said his mother, after a pause, do you not feel that Phil has. lost his prize .hrough his own wilfulness, and' not through ;nu? With all his kind care for others, which I fully appreciate, I cannot approve of his headstrong opposition to what his con science must tell him is the right course.— And though he may be angry now, he must acknowledge eventually, that .yon could not, in truth or honor, have acted in any other way than you have done.' 'I hope he may, mamma,' said Harold with a deep sigh. 'As soon as the class was dis missed, this morning, the boys rushed out with Phil, aad_by The time that I reached the play ground, ho had formed both sides of the game, on purpose to exclude ; to be sure I had little heart to play. Phil would, not speak to me, and the other boys all cried out upon me for being so unkind to him. They say, mamma, that doing one',s duty brings its wit reward, but I have not found it so in this instance. The boys crowded round Phil . as if he was a hero, and shunned me with looks of almost aversion. I know that none of them love In - ore - Than P do, or would dci more foe him. I hate the it,Ka of going back to school to morrow.' His mother's arm was around him, and she drew him to her side. 'Will yon not trust to your mother's assu rance, my dear boy, that all will come right in the end ? Is it nothing to you, that your mamma fully approves your •conduct, and would not have had you act otherwise for the world ? BelieVe me, that after you have laid all your faults in . -humble confession before your I lenvenly Father, and thanked Him for His kind care of you to-day, you will sleep sweetly, and go to school with a lighter hear to morrow.' Harold knelt, as he often did, at his moth er's knee. She followed hiin to his room, and -bent .over him after he was in bed. Be clasp; ed his arms around her neck. `Oh mamma, how could I t ver do without you ?' Although Harold's sleep was sweet and un troubled, his mother was pained to see that his bright face was still overcast as he pre pared for school on the morrow. She knew that, in his sensitive nature, still rankled the remembrance of his companions' reproaches, in'their first outbreak of sympathy with Phil. But the look of proud ethnposlire which Hr rold strove to assume, Was.quite thrown away as he entered the playground, and a dozen cordial voices hailed him, eager for his com panionship at play; for Harold was as great a favorite among his schoolmates as Plil, and a night's sleep, and the cheering air of morning had drive❑ far away the transient feeling of anger front their bosoms. Phil ' alolle retained his displeasure, and as Harold, after several times offering to aid him in his lessons, and as °lien meeting with a rude re pulse, was beginning to wonder how it Could ever lie 'all right' again, as his mother had predicted, between hiM and his friend, one of the larger boys obserVing his ineffectual ef forts at reconciliation, called out, `Let him alone, Harry, he will come round of binitielf tiller awhile'; he feels, and so do we, that you did right, though there are few of us who would have had the courage to do like von.'. • 'Speak for yourself; said Phil, bitterly. do not feel that it Was right to inform upon a friend, to defeat his long cherished hopes of obtaining, a prize, and all to gratify an over strainedjdea of duty. But you are a fickle yon boyi; yesterday von were all for poor Phil—to-day as eager in your sympathy with the super-exccdlent 1 farold.'. 'Console yourself; Phil,' said thevfirst speaker ; the way of the 'world; great er he r iocs. than you or flurry have to exile. rieneo the ups and downs of poptilar favor. It would have been well if in other 'eases, as in this, truth and nte'grity had triumphed in the end.' • • The examination day found Harold fully prepared ; but the pang which he felt when Phil was passed by iv the allotment of the prizes, — ele ‘ tely overpowered the gratifica tion he Would otherwise have felt, at gaining the first one himself; and scarcely heard, as his preceptor publicly complimented him up on his'pi:ogress in learning, and the excel lence of his conduct. Phil passed close to him, with one of his ireful looks, when all was over. I wish ytiiijn3 ) of your prize, Mr. Harold,' said he, 'you have,:flefeated me, and from henceforth regard me as your enemy i I will never forgive you.' 'Mamma,' said Harold, when he joined her, 'I could not have believed that Phil would be so vindictive--but for all, I love him still; and oh lam so sorry for him.' The vacation was over, and the boys hatlas ' sembled on Saturday afternoon for a game of ball, on their play ground, when Phil ap peared among them, leading by the hand his sweet little sister Lilian. He !Intl 'obtained permission at home to bring her with him to watch the sports of his companions. Harold was an old favorite with Lilian, and as he held out his band to her with a smile, she would have sprung forward with an excla mation of joyful recognition; but Phil Meld her InMk, and whispered— 'lf you go to Harold, Lilian, I will take you home at once ; you shall have nothing say to him: 'Lilian looked wonderingly into her broth el.'s face. 'Why not, Phil? I love Harry.' But Harold ran off now'with a disappoin ted look, and Phil was too busy finding a seat for his sister to gratify her curiosity.— Ile placed her nicely' under the .shade of a tree, and, for a time sat by hefithut - iiiiabl e to resist the entreaties of the boys he left her to join the game, charging her an hundred times, not f stray from the spot where he had placed her.' The play-ground occupied a bi•oad strip of meadow land bordering upon a river; to wards its farther extremity, the mendow.rose into a kind of bluff round which the stream wound abruptly, and was lost to view. For a time the little girl amused herself with watching the boys at play, but after awhile they moved off to some distance from her, and becoming wearied, and attracted by some wild flowers which grew at intervals a long the meadow, she ran about in quest of them, farther and farther still, until she fi nally disappeared. The game was over, and _Phil, in the full flush of, victory, caine running to join his sister, when, what was his dismay to find her gone. On every side his eye searched in vain, and his distracted cry of `Lilian ! Lilian was borne unheeded on the air. lie raised his voice to • attract the attention of his companions, but they had all dispersed, and none heard him save Harold, who ran forward to his assistance. Poor Phil's first thought was of the river, and in an agony of self-reproach, he ran down the bank follow ed by Harold. There, imprinted in the soft sand were Li- Hans footsteps, and both boys followed them up with mingled dread and hope, as they traced them; still continuing, even to the nar row path, that led over the bluff. They climbed the ascent together, silent with ap prehension, until, on reaching the summit, and looking down, they beheld the object of ' their search.. Close to the river, and beti ding over it was..a large oak tree, a part of its roots bared by the constant washing of the clear waters. To the tree was fastened ,a small boat, and in the boat, on its very edge, was Lilian her dimpled hands grasping the bared routs, and by a motion of her feet, gently swaying the boat backwards 'and for wards, andiaughing 'gleefully, in the enjoy ment of her pastime. The boys shuddered as they saw her peril. Phil was about to rush forward, when Har- old seized his arm 'hold, Phil,' said he, in a hushed voice, 'make no noise for your life.' Phil shook him otr, and cried passionate ,lct, me go, for the love of God I must save Inv sister.' 'You must be quiet, Phil,' whispered Har again seizing Lilo ; 'if ydu startle her slto is lost.' `Let me go, I tell you,' said Phil, now be- Side himself; 'false friend! would you have her perish before my eyes?' And be'sbriekedlian A quick start and the little hands slipped from .the wet .roots, the boat sllot back into the stream, nod, in an instant, the tiny form' fell forwards, and vas hid in the cinbrace of the water Tito boys clashed forward to th.ta.rezette,boili . , were good swimmers ; but Phil in his dis tracted hurry .fell, land foremost, down the bluff, and lay stunned for a moment by the fall, while Harold throwing off his shoes' and jacket, plunged. into the stream. It was a Moment of agonizing susPense, until first an arm, and then the head, with its palebrown hair and upturned thee, rose slowly to the surface—there was no struggle or motion to embarass Han:Ad, as ..he grasped the little figure with all the strength of one'arm, while with the other he struck out for the shore; Phil bewildered by his fright and fall, could yet extend his aid from the bank, and his ontstreched anus received his sister's inan imate form, and Harold clambered up to his side. What should they do? nearly a mile from home, and not a house in sight. Phil clasped his treasure to his heart, and lamented over her as if all hope were vain, :while Harold's quick eye discovered at some distance down the river, a woman washing on the bank, with a fire burning in the open air at her side. With cheering words and eager gestures Harold urged 'Phil towards the spot, and Phil, now passive under his directions, ran forward with all his might. Harold's shouts aroused the attention of the woman, and in a few minutes more, the little forth was stripped of its dinging gar- meats, rapped in blankets that lay ready for the wash, and chafed and rubbed by the sympathising woman before the genial fire. The breath returned ; first with quick sighs, then more gently. the eyes opened wondering- ly. and at last the lips uttered, 'Why what's the mailer, Phil?' _Oh !' was ever music sweeter_to_PlEs_ pars ? Still wrapped in the warm blankets, and borne now• by' the two boys, the dear lit• tie creature was carried home to her moth• Such a se - lel such clamor and confusion! such a rush Lilian by mother, aunts, and sisters, such -aresses, until the poor little thing ran the ri of being drowned over a- gain in the floods of tears shed over her ``>o . " And Harold stood a hero in the midst of the group ; wishing himself a thousand miles off, as one after another of the ladies of tilt, family, after seeing Lilian warm in bqfl, came rushing back to embrace and thank her pre- server, and feeling still more shy and restless when Phil insisted apt' making a full con Icssion, befor - U them all, of his injustice. :Ina lung cherished anger towards his best friend 'Now Harold,',:said Phil, in conclusion, 'give me again your friendship, and never, I trust in God,, shall I cease to try to deserve `You have had it all tl time, Phil,' said Harold, returning the warm pressure of hi: , hand ; 'but indeed I must go now, my moth. er will wonder what has become of me.' His mother might well wonder, as he en• tered her presence, with his dress all wet and disordered ; but she had cause for deep thankfulness as he listened to the details of his adventure. have m`• friend back again now, mum• ma,' said Har - old, "and all is right,' once morn. as-ypu said it would be..' A LAZY HoitsFmnesxga.—We learn Troia Galignani's Messenger', (published at Paris, France,) that in consequence -of the success obtained • by Madam Isabel in breaking the horses for the army, the minister of war lately authorized her to . proceed officially be fore a commission composed of general and superitcr officer of cavalry, with Gen. flog nault de St. Jean d'Angely at their head, to a practical demonstration of her method on a certain dumber of young cavalry horses.— After twentY days' training the horses Were so perfectly broken in, that the minister no longer hesitated to enter into an arrange ment with Madame Isabelle to introduce her system into all the impdrial schools of Caval ry, beginning with that of Saumur. Thqad• vantages of this system i appear to be these To train the horses without fatiguing then, ; to diminish grealty the climber ofrestive-hor ses ; to lessen the number of accidents; to train any number of horses at the same time; and to lessen considerably the expense. VS—Sickness has a wonderful influence on the heart. If we ever feel like doing a gei;• °rens action, it is while recovering from a long course of fevey arid confinement. Health has its uses, but improving our virtue and goodness is not one of them. All our crime are conunitted by men overflowing with blood and robustness. ".Jim, does your mother ever whip you?' "No—but she does a precious sight vor:•k_ though." " What is that?" `Why L she washes me ever}• morning., V& No man can be provident aids tiine - who is not prudent in the choiec. , ,or 12; cow. ME
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