THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS.

(1620.)

The breaking waves dashed high
On a stern and rock-bound coast,
And the trees against a stormy sky,
Their giant branches tossed.

And the heavy night hung dark
The hills and waters o'er,

When a band of exiles moored their bark
On the wild New England shore.

Not as the conqueror comes,

They, the true-hearted, came;

Not with the roll of the stirring drums,
And the trumpet that sings of fame.

Not as the flying come,

In silence and in fear;

They shook the depths of the desert gloom
With their hymns of lofty cheer.

Amidst the storm they sang,

And the stars heard, and the sea:

And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang

To the anthem of the free!

The ocean eagle soared

From his nest by the white wave's foam: And the rocking pines of the forest roared, — This was their welcome home!

There were men with hoary hair,
Amidst that pilgrim band;

Why had they come to wither there,
Away from their childhood's land?

There was woman's fearless eye,
Lit by her deep love's truth;
There was manhood's brow serenely high,
And the fiery heart of youth.

What sought they thus afar?
Bright jewels of the mine?

The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?-
They sought a faith's pure shrine !

Ay! call it holy ground,

The soil where first they trod :

They have left unstained what there they found,

Freedom to worship God.

- Felicia Hemans.

Patriots have toiled, and in their country's cause
Bled nobly; and their deeds, as they deserve
Receive proud recompense. We give in charge
Their names to the sweet lyre. The historic Muse,
Proud of the treasure, marches with it down
To latest times; and Sculpture, in her turn,
Gives bond in stone and ever-during brass
To guard them, and to immortalize her trust.
-William Cowper.

THE ROBIN.

The robin is perhaps the best known of all our birds. The name is so prominent in children's stories, in folklore, in poetry, and in general literature, that even town children who have never seen the bird know it by name; 5 but to many grown people, even those who have lived all

their lives in the country, the robin is not familiar as a winter bird. It is known to come and go, it is true, but is supposed to be merely in transit, and just where the observer happens to be is not its abiding place. This 10 impression is due to lack of observation, for the birds are as well disposed towards your thicket and cedar trees as those of some far-off neighbor.

This crystal-clear, cold January day, with the mercury almost at zero, I found the robins on the south hillside, 15 and seldom have they shown to better advantage. One was perched in a sapling beech to which the leaves still clung. It chirped at times so that its companions could hear it, and was answered by them, as well as by the nuthatches, a tree creeper, some sparrows, and a winter wren. It was a cozy, warm spot wherein these birds had gathered, which, strangely enough, was filled with music even when every bird was mute. This robin was half concealed among the crisp beech leaves, and these-not the birds about them-were singing. The breeze caused 25 them to tremble violently, and their thin edges were as harp strings, the wiry sound produced being smoothed by the crisp rattling caused by the leaves' rapid contact with

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each other.

It was much like the click of butterflies' wings, but greatly exaggerated. A simple sound, but a sweet, wholesome one that made me think less of the winter's rigor and recalled the recent warm autumnal days. They were singing leaves, and the robin watched them closely 5 as he stood near by, and chirped at times, as if to encourage them. Altogether it made a pretty picture, one of those that human skill has not yet transferred to a printed page; and our winter sunshine is full of just such beauty.

How incomprehensible it is that any one should speak 10 of the few robins that venture to remain! Flocks of a hundred or more are not uncommon in the depth of winter, and this recalls the fact that at this time of year robins are never alone. It may appear so for a time, but when the bird you are watching is ready to move on, his 15 call will be answered by others that you have not seen, and half a dozen at least will fly off to new scenes.

This is often noticed on a much larger scale when we flush robins in a field. They are generally widely scattered, and, go where you will, there will be one or two 20 hopping before you; but when one takes alarm, the danger cry is heard by all, and a great flock will gather in the air in an incredibly short time.

Robins are not lovers of frozen ground; they know where the earth resists frost, down in the marshy meadows, 25 and there they congregate in the dreary midwinter afternoons, after spending the morning feeding upon berries. I have seen them picking those of the cedar, poison ivy, green brier, and even the seedy, withered fruit of the poke; but at times this question of food supply must 30