"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 head upon his hands, his heart beating, and tears gathering in his eyes.

"The children looked at him, and one of them said, 'Are 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

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.

666

'My good child,' said he, 'I shall soon be well now you have come, 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 оссиру, 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,

Without one fellow-creature staying
To list the sad words he was saying.
At last a gentle lady stopped,

For she had seen a tear that dropped;
She gazed upon his cheek so pale,
And heard him tell this simple tale.

“Oh, lady, buy my violets, pray!
For I have walked a weary way;
Long miles I trod before I found
The primrose bank and violet mound.
I'm hungry, penniless, and cold,
My flowers will fade before they 're sold,
I've not touched food since yesterday;
Oh, lady, buy my violets, pray!"

The child was telling mournful truth,
He had no friends to guard his youth,
And there he stood, with roofless head,
And whitened lips that prayed for bread.

The gentle lady gave him pence,
And kindly bade him hasten hence
And purchase food.-The hungry boy
Looked up with gratitude and joy,
And fast and eagerly he went,
And honestly the mite was spent.

It chanced, the lady strolling back
Upon the very self-same track,
Espied him sitting low and lone
Upon a seat of humble stone,
Devouring with an earnest zeal
The simple loaf that formed his meal;
And as he ate his relished fare,
'Twas plain he'd not a bit to spare.

A dog-a lean and famished brute,
Most sadly pitiful,-though mute,
Just at that moment dared to come
And watch for any falling crumb.

His ribs stood plainly through his hide,
And fearfully he crouched beside
The violet-boy, as though in dread,
Of getting blows instead of bread.
The boy looked down upon the beast
And for an instant staid his feast;
But soon he spoke in coaxing tones,
Patting the creature's staring bones;
Then lured him close, and gave him part
Of what had cheered his own young heart;
He gave the poor dog many a bit,
Without one thought of grudging it,
Though he himself was hungry still,
And had not eaten half his fill.

And so not knowing who had seen them,
The staff of life was shared between them.

The lady who had marked the deed,
Now walked towards the child of need,
And asked him why he gave away
His bread, that would have served the day?
"An hour ago," the boy replied,
"You gave me money when I cried,
And had compassion when I sought
The food your kindly mercy brought.
This poor dog came to ask of me,
As I before had craved of thee;
I'd suffered long the bitter woe,
The cold and starving only know,
And, lady, say, what could I do?
For he was cold and starving too!"

The lady smiled, and rightly guessed,
There must be good in such a breast;
That 'mid all sorrow Want could bring,
Still helped a dumb and friendless thing.
She questioned him,-and all he told,
Did but the mournful truth unfold:
His father in the churchyard lying,
His mother in her straw bed dying,