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hope my dear father will be here to-morrow.' Every morning he got up early, and before he ate his piece of bread for breakfast, he ran a long way down the road to look for his father. But no father was there. Every morning he came back to the old woman's cottage very sad, and often crying.

" In all these rambles the dog Fido accompanied him, and would hang down his head, and walk slowly home after him with his tail between his legs, as if conscious of, and sharing in the sorrow of his little master, stopping when he stopped, and lying down on the ground, when Juan, still lingering with hope, sat down a few minutes to prolong the time.

“News came that the war was ended, and that the soldiers would soon all return to their homes. Some of the fellow-soldiers of Juan's father did return. Juan's thoughts all ran upon the pleasure of again seeing his father. He could hardly eat or drink; and when he went to bed, he dreamt of his father. But still no father came, and the boy began to be as sad as ever again.

“One day, a soldier, who was on his way home, stopped at the old woman's cottage, and asked for some water to drink. Juan saw that he had a dress on precisely like that which had been given to his father. He whispered to the old woman, ' Ask him if he knows where my father is, and when he is coming home?'

“I dare say he is dead,' said the man, 'for he had many wounds. He was so ill that he could not march on, and I left him at a cottage in a village near Milan. It is a long way from here.'

“When Juan heard this, he did not sit down and cryfor that would do his father no good. Tears, it is true, came into his eyes, but he wiped them away, and he made up his mind to set off and find his father.

“ Why did he do so ? I will tell you.

“ He thought that strangers would not attend to his father so well or so kindly as he would. "They do not care for him," said he, so much as I do. I can wait upon him much better than they will.'

“The next morning, as soon as the sun rose, Juan was ready. He called his dog, and took the pipe which his father had given him.

“I will play the tunes which my father taught me upon this pipe as I go along,' said he ; ' and then I shall get a little bread from kind people, and so support myself till I find my

father.' “Thus did this brave child set off. Many weeks he walked all day long, and very often he slept in the open air upon a bank by the road side. Whilst he slept, his dog laid down at his side. Sometimes the people he met did not want music; and sometimes when they did, they only gave him a small piece of bread for his trouble.

“Some few gave him a little money. He took great care of this, so that, when no food was given to him, he might be able to buy some. Through all his hardships he was cheerful, and thanked the people, whether he got much or little, for what they gave him.

“At every meal, however scanty, he always shared such food as he had with his good dog Fido. But Juan and his dog led a hard life, and were often without a morsel to eat.

“One day, after he had walked many miles, and was very hungry, he came up to a cottage. Some boys and girls were romping with great fun outside the door. Juan at any other time would have liked to have joined them in their fun, but now his thoughts were bent on something else.

“He went up to them, and began to play a tune. The children were so pleased with the music, that they left off their game, and gathered round him. When he had finished his tune, he asked whether they would like him to play any more ?

Oh, yes, yes, cried the children.

« Will you give me a seat, then, for I am very tired ?' said Juan,

“Come into the house,' said the boys,' and play there.'

« Oh, no, cried the eldest of the girls, 'he must not, because of the sick soldier !'

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“ Juan heard this. "Let me come in-let me come in,' said he, and let me see the man, for my father is a soldier!'

“He could say no more-he could hardly draw his breath, he felt so anxious.

“This must be the cottage the soldier meant,' said he. 'Oh! if I should find my dear, dear father here !'-he could not go on speaking. “• Is your name Juan ?' asked one of the girls. * “Yes,' said Juan.

“ “Then, perhaps, you are the little boy that the sick man talks so much about, and wishes so much to see !' said the girl.

“ 'Let me go to the room where he lies !' cried the eager Juan ; 'Oh, do let me go!'

"'I must first see if he is awake,' replied the girl. 'He sleeps so little, owing to the pain of his wounds, that it would be unkind to wake him.'

“So she went into the cottage gently, and opened the door. She looked in, and turning round to Juan, put her finger to her lip, and quietly shut the door again, and then walked on tiptoe out of the cottage.

“He sleeps now,' she whispered ; 'if you want to see him you must wait.

“Play us a tune,' said the children, and we will ask our mother to give you some supper.'

"Juan was tired and hungry, but he could not play on his pipe. He sat down on the ground, and leaned his

upon his hands, his heart beating, and tears gathering in his eyes. “ The children looked at him, and one of them said,

you ill, little boy ?' “No,' said Juan, 'if I have found my father, I am quite well.'

“The children then continued their games, and in their fun soon forgot the poor little boy and his pipe. Fido laid himself down close to his young master, and went to sleep. The time seemed to pass very slowly. Poor Juan thought the sick man slept a long time, and he was on the

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point of falling asleep too, when, suddenly, he heard a voice call out from the cottage, ' Bring me some drink.' He started up-he knew the voice-it was his father's !

Happy child ! he rushed into the cottage, opened the bed-room door, and threw his arms round his father's neck.

“His father did not at first perceive that it was his own boy who was hugging him so closely. But when the dog Fido leaped upon the bed, wagging his tail, and barking with joy, then he knew him to be Juan, and his joy also was great.

“My good child,' said he, 'I shall soon be well now you

and we will all go home together.' “ His father then asked the children to give Juan some food, and some also to the good Fido. The biggest of the girls went directly to her mother's closet in the next room, and brought out for Juan a large piece of barley bread, and a bunch of fine ripe grapes. This with some water which she fetched from the well, made for Juan, as he thought, the pleasantest meal that he had tasted since he left home. She gave Fido some food also. After such a hearty supper, Juan felt quite refreshed and merry. He played many tunes upon his pipe to the children of the cottage, and Fido frisked about. From that day Juan was constantly with his father. He waited upon him, dressed his wounds, watched him while he slept, and talked to him when he was awake. The dog, too, stayed in the room, and slept under the sick man's bed. In a short time the Italian soldier became quite well. He paid the woman of the cottage for the room she had let him occupy, and for the food she had provided him with. Both he and Juan were sorry to part with the children of the cottage, and Juan played them many tunes upon his pipe before he went.

“At length, one fine morning, the father, Juan, and the dog set off, to walk home. They were not long in reaching their own village, for they were stout and inured to fatigue, and sometimes they got a ride in a waggon.

“ I have now," said the old man, “finished my story. You see there are good people in other countries as well as in England, and I hope you will never again so treat a stranger, until you know, by his bad conduct, that he does not deserve your kindness. You may now all go to your homes." ~ Parents' Cabinet.

THE VIOLET BOY.

'Twas on a day in early spring,
Before the butterfly took wing,
Before the bee was seen about,
Or sleepy dormouse ventured out.
Grey clouds shut in the sky of blue,
The sunshine tried to struggle through,
The wind was angry in its gust
Bearing a load of blinding dust,
April was growing somewhat old;
But yet 'twas cold: oh, very cold!
A tiny boy, with pallid face
Stood in the city's thickest place;
His limbs were lank as limbs could be,
His tattered garment sad to see.
A basket on his arm he bore,
Which

gave to sight a little store
Of violets in bunches spread,
Fresh gathered from their native bed.
Their perfume scarcely lived at all,
Their purple heads were very small,
Their leaves were pinched and shrivelled in,
Their stalks were turning dry and thin ;
'Twas very, very cold spring weather,
And boy and flowers seemed starved together.
For many an hour his tired feet
Paced up and down the crowded street,
And many a time his moistened eye
Looked at the wealthy passers by,

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