THE BRAVE BROTHER.

Two little brothers thro' the forest roam'd,
In old time far away.-Not then, as now,
The lordly mansion, and the heavenward spire
Chequer'd the landscape,-but the low-roof'd hut,
With here and there a wigwam-told the life
Of toil and hardship of the sires who stood
On Plymouth-rock.

The children wander'd wide,-
O'er stream and thicket,-their fresh spirits glad
With boyhood's liberty.-Intent they sought
The ripening nuts, or that small, purple grape,
Which waiteth for the frost to clarify

The acid of its blood.

But their lone walk

Was all too early for such sylvan spoil;
For jocund autumn still delay'd to ope

The chestnut's thorny sheath, or to divide

The quarter'd coat that in close armour wrapp'd
The hickory's favourite fruit.-

Hark! a strange sound

Snarling, and hoarse: and thro' the parted boughs

Two fiery wolf-eyes glared.— ́

The younger boy,

As the fierce, ravening beast his form reveal'd
Transfix'd with horror,-fill'd the echoing shades
With cries of anguish. But the elder felt
A sudden manhood thro' his pulses start,
Prompting to guard and save the helpless one
Or die beside him.

Soothing with kind words
The frantic child, and knowing flight was vain,
He drew his wood-knife, and upon the sward
Planting his bare feet firmly,-stood resolv'd,-
A better hero, in the holy warmth

Of deep fraternal love,-than many a one

Who wins the world's proud laurel, with the waste Of others' blood, to gratify the aims

Of pitiless ambition.

It would seem

The wolf had cower'd a moment, at the glance
Of that determined eye,-but with fierce growl
And open jaws, and deadly gnashing teeth
Still nearer drew.-

Alas! the mother's heart,

Who in her lowly cabin turn'd the wheel,-
Singing, at times, low snatches of the songs
Brought from the Father-land,-and felt no thrill
Premonitory, of her darlings' doom.-

A sudden, sharp report!-a flying shot!-
The monster roll'd in blood.-

Through rustling boughs,

A red-brow'd hunter strode.-His lofty port,
And plumed brow, bespoke a chieftain's pride,-
While with a bright, approving eye he scann'd
The noble boy.-

"If the intruding race

Of pale-fac❜d men have bosoms brave as thine,-
The acorn they have planted in the wild

Shall take deep root and spread its branches wide,-
O'er land and sea,-upheld by Him who sits
Above the thunder."

Mid the forest-depths

Again he plung'd,-while to their humble home
The brothers hasted,-in the parents' soul
To wake the enraptur'd prayer of tearful joy
For their deliverance.

5

THE ANCIENT FAMILY CLOCK.

So, here thou art, old friend,

Ready thine aid to lend,

With honest face,

The gilded figures just as bright

Upon thy painted case,

As when I ran with young delight

Their garniture to trace,

And though forbid thy burnished robe to touch, Still gazed with folded hands, admiring long and much.

But where is she who sate

Near in her elbow chair,

Teaching with patient care

Life's young beginnner, on thy dial plate

To count the winged minutes, fleet and fair,
And mark each hour with deeds of love?

Lo, she hath broke her league with time, and found the rest above.

Thrice welcome, ancient crone!

"Tis sweet to gaze on thee,