Imatges de pÓgina

to turn itself, backed upon him with the quickness of an axe-stroke.

The gunner, if driven back against the side, was lost. The crew uttered a cry.

12. But the old passenger, until now motionless, made a spring more rapid than all those wild whirls. He seized a bale of the false assignats, and, at the risk of being crushed, succeeded in flinging it between the wheels of the cannon.

The bale had the effect of a plug. A pebble may stop a log, a tree-branch turn an avalanche.

The cannon stumbled. The gunner, in his turn, seizing this terrible chance, plunged his iron bar between the spokes of one of the hind wheels.


13. The cannon was stopped. It staggered. man, using the bar as a lever, rocked it to and fro. The heavy mass turned over with a clang like a falling bell, and the gunner, dripping with sweat, rushed forward headlong and passed the slipping-noose about the bronze neck of an overthrown monster.

It was ended. The man

The man had conquered. The pygmy had taken the thunder-bolt prisoner. The whole crew hurried down with cables and chains, and in an instant the cannon was securely lashed.



A barking sound the shepherd hears,
A cry as of a dog or fox;

He halts, and searches with his eyes
Among the scattered rocks:
And now, at distance, can discern
A stirring in a brake of fern,
From which immediately leaps out
A dog, and, yelping runs about.

The dog is not of mountain breed;

Its motions, too, are wild and shy; With something - -as the shepherd thinksUnusual in its cry:

Nor is there any one in sight,

All round, in hollow or on height;

Nor shout nor whistle strikes his ear;

What is the creature doing here?

It was a cove, a huge recess,

That keeps, till June, December's snow,

A lofty precipice in front,

A silent tarn below!

Far in the bosom of Helvellyn,

Remote from public road or dwelling,

Pathway or cultivated land,

From trace of human foot or hand.

There, sometimes, does a leaping fish

Send through the tarn a lonely cheer;

The crags repeat the raven's croak,
In symphony austere.

Thither the rainbow comes; the cloud;
And mists, that spread the flying shroud;
And sunbeams; and the sounding blast,
That, if it could, would hurry past;-
But that enormous barrier binds it fast.

Not knowing what to think, awhile

The shepherd stood; then makes his way
Towards the dog, o'er rocks and stones,
As quickly as he may;

Nor far had gone, before he found
A human skeleton on the ground,—
Sad sight! the shepherd, with a sigh,
Looks round, to learn the history.

From those abrupt and perilous rocks

The man had fallen, that place of fear!

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At length, upon the shepherd's mind

It breaks, and all is clear.

He instantly recalled the name,

And who he was, and whence he came;

Remembered, too, the very day

On which the traveler passed this way.

But hear a wonder now, for sake

Of which this mournful tale I tell!

A lasting monument of words

This wonder merits well:

The dog, which still was hovering nigh,

Repeating the same timid cry, —

This dog had been, through three months' space,
A dweller in that savage place.

Yes, proof was plain, that, since the day
On which the traveler thus had died,

The dog had watched about the spot,
Or by his master's side:

How nourished here, through such long time,
He knows who gave that love sublime,

And gave that strength of feeling, great
Above all human estimate.



1. "You hard-hearted, obstinate, crusty, musty, fusty, old savage!" said I, in fancy, one afternoon, to my grand-uncle Rumgudgeon, shaking my fist at him in imagination.

2. Only in imagination; for what I did say, as I opened the drawing-room door and approached him, was this: "I am sure, my dear uncle, that you have no design seriously to oppose my union with Kate. This is merely a joke of yours, I know. Now, uncle, all that Kate and myself wish at present is that you would oblige us with your advice as-as regards the time, you know, uncle; in short, when will it be most

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