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