Then said Greatheart," It is the King's highway that we are in, and in His way it is thou hast placed thy lions; but these women and these children, though weak, shall hold on their way in spite of thy lions. And with that he gave him again a downright blow, and brought him upon his knees. With this blow he also broke his helmet, and with the next he cut off an arm.

Then did the giant roar so hideously that his voice frightened the women, and yet they were glad to see him lie sprawling upon the ground. Now the lions were chained, and so, of themselves, could do nothing; wherefore, when old Grim, who intended to back them, was dead, Mr. Greatheart said to the pilgrims, "Come now, and follow me, and no hurt shall happen to you from the lions." They, therefore, went on, but the women trembled as they passed by them; the boys also looked as if they would die, but they all got by without further hurt.

THE VINE-STUMP.

Mr. Sutton being at his country house in the spring, went with his son Charles to walk in the garden. The violets and primroses were in their bloom, and many trees already began to show their leaves, and to be clothed in white and crimson blossoms.

They went by chance into the summer-house, at the foot of which grew a vine-stump twisting its naked branches wildly about, and stretching

them in a rude irregular manner along the ground. "Papa," cried Charles, "see this ugly tree, how it points at me. Why do you not tell Martin, the gardener, to pull it up and burn it for firewood?" At the same time he began to try and root it up himself, but it was so strongly fixed in the ground that he was not able. "Let it alone," said Mr. Sutton to his son; "it must stand as it is, and at the proper time you will see my reasons for not pulling it up."

"But papa," said Charles, "there are close by it such lovely blossoms of the lilac, and it will perhaps hinder them in their growth. It does not add to

the appearance of the garden at all. Shall I go and tell Martin to pluck it up?" "No, my dear," said his father; "I tell you I will have it stand as it is, at least a little longer."

Charles went on again to condemn it, but his father turned his attention to other things, and the ugly vine-stump was forgotten.

Charles and his father did not visit the garden again till the middle of autumn. The day being very hot, they went to enjoy the shade of the summer-house. "Oh рара, said Charles, "what a charming greenshade. I am glad you have had that ugly dry stump rooted up that I saw last spring, and put this handsome plant in its place. What delightful fruit! Look at those fine grapes, some purple, others almost black! There is not a single tree in the garden that looks so well: they have all lost their fruit but this. I should like to know if the fruit is as good as it looks."

His father gave him a grape to taste. This made him still more pleased, and he was surprised to learn that from these berries wine is made.

"You

seem to be astonished, my dear," said Mr. Sutton, "and I should surprise you much more were I to tell you that this is the same misshapen trunk that you were so angry with in the spring. I will go,

if you choose, and order Martin to root it up, and make firewood of it."

"Oh no! by no means, papa," said Charles; "let him take all the others in the garden before this. I do like the grapes so much."

"You see then, Charles," said his father, "that I did well in not following your advice. What has happened to you to-day, very often takes place in the world. A child who is badly clothed and of an ill-favoured appearance is despised, and often insulted, till one day he shows, like the grape, that good actions often come from persons with badlyshaped bodies; and after all this is the only correct way of judging either men or plants, 'By their fruits ye shall know them.""

LOVE STRONG IN DEATH.

We watched him, while the moonlight,
Beneath the shadowed hill,
Seemed dreaming of good angels,
And all the woods were still.

The brother of two sisters
Drew painfully his breath.
A strange fear had come o'er him,
For love was strong in death,

The fire of fatal fever

Burned darkly on his cheek, And often to his mother

He spoke, or tried to speak:

"I felt, as if from slumber
I never could awake;

Oh, mother give me something
To cherish for your sake?

"A cold dead weight is on me—
A heavy weight, like lead:
My hands and feet seem sinking
Quite through my little bed:

"I am so tired, so weary-
With weariness I ache;
Oh, mother, give me something
To cherish for your sake!

"Some little token give me,
Which I may kiss in sleep-
To make me feel I'm near you,
And bless you, though I weep.

My sisters say I'm better-
But, then, their heads they shake.
Oh, mother, give me something
To cherish for your sake!

66

Why can't I see the poplar,

The moonlit stream and hill,

Where Fanny says good angels

Dream, when the woods are still?

Why can't I see you, mother?
I surely am awake:

Oh, haste, and give me something
To cherish for your sake."

His little bosom heaves not;

The fire hath left his cheek;
The fine chord—is it broken?
The strong chord-could it break?

Ah, yes! the loving spirit

Hath winged his flight away:

A mother and two sisters

Look down on lifeless clay.

Ebenezer Elliott.

GIANT DESPAIR AND HIS VICTIMS.

PART I.

Now there was not far from the place where they lay, a castle, called Doubting Castle, the owner of which was Giant Despair; and it was upon his grounds they were now sleeping. Wherefore he, getting up early in the morning, and walking up and down in his fields, caught Christian and Hopeful asleep in his grounds. Then with a grim and surly voice, he bid them awake, and asked them whence they were, and what they did on his grounds.

They told him they were pilgrims, and that they had lost their way. Then said the giant,

E