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whether I should return to Morgantown, or attempt to force my way through the wrecks of the tempest. My business, however, being of an urgent nature, I ventured into the path of the storm, and after encountering innumerable difficulties, succeeded in crossing it. I was obliged to lead my horse by the bridle to enable him to leap over the fallen trees, while I scrambled over or under them in the best way I could-at times so hemmed in by the broken tops and tangled branches, as almost to become desperate. On arriving at my house, I gave an account of what I had seen, when, to my surprise, I was told there had been very little wind in the neighborhood, although in the streets and gardens many branches and twigs had fallen in a manner which excited great surprise.

*

The valley is yet a desolate place, overgrown with briers and bushes, thickly entangled amid the tops and trunks of the fallen trees, and is the resort of ravenous animals, to which they betake themselves, when pursued by man, or after they have committed their depredations on the farms of the surrounding district. I have crossed the path of the storm at a distance of a hundred miles from the spot where I witnessed its fury, and again four hundred miles farther off, in the State of Ohio. Lastly, I observed traces of its ravages on the summits of the mountains connected with the Great Pine Forest of Pennsylvania, three hundred miles beyond the plaee last mentioned. In all these different parts it appeared to me not to have exceeded a quarter of a mile in breadth.

J. J. AUDU BON.

THE RAINBOW.

A rainbow and the sun breaking through cloud.
Discourage not yourselves, although you see
The weather black, and storms prolonged be.
What though it fiercely rains and thunders loud,
Behold there is a rainbow in the cloud,

Wherein a trustful promise may be found,

That quite your little worlds shall not be drown'd.
The sunshine through the foggy mists appear,
The low'ring sky begins again to clear;
And though the tempest yet your eyes affright,
Fair weather may befall you long ere night.

Such comfort speaks our Emblem unto those
Whom stormy persecution doth inclose;
And comforts him, that for the present sad,
With hopes that better seasons may be had.
There is not trouble, sorrow, nor distress,
But mitigation hath, or some release.

Long use or time the storm away will turn,
Else patience makes it better to be borne.
Yea; sorrow's low'ring days will come and go,
As well as prosp'rous hours of sunshine do;
And when 'tis past, the pain that went before
Will make the following pleasure seem the more.
For He hath promis'd, whom we may believe,
His blessing unto those that mourn and grieve;
And that though sorrow much dejects their head,
In ev'ry need we shall be comforted.
This promise I believe; in ev'ry grief
Perform it, Lord, and help my unbelief.
So others viewing how thou cheerest me,
Shall in all sorrows put their trust in thee.

GEORGE WITHER, 1558-1667.

XXV.

Medley.

K

THE STORY OF AARON THE BEGGAR.

FROM THE SWEDISH.

ANGAS lieth in Sioni; 'tis a homestead that scarce has an equal;

Plenteous in wood and in corn-fields, with rich grassy meadows
and moorland.

This won my father, in wedding the farmer's fair daughter;
And here he grew old, like a summer's eve calmly declining.
From him came the farm unto me; and here, like my father,

I spent the best years of my life, and dwelt like a king amid plenty.
Servants I had; men servants to plow with my oxen;

And maids in the house, too; and children, the joy of their mother
And the hope of my eye, who grew up like olive-plants round us.
Thus sowing and reaping in comfort, from season to season abode I,
Envied by many, but having the good-will of all men.
At length came misfortune, and so put an end to my gladness.
The frost of one night destroyed all my yet unreaped harvest,
Wolves killed my cattle; and thus passed a winter of sorrow.
Again I sowed rye-crops, looking for profit in autumn;

And again the rye failed, for again was the early ear frosted.

I had men and maid servants no longer. I could not pay land-dues.
Bread we had none; bark dried in the oven sustained us.

So passed the time; and as long as the milch-kine were spared us,
And we had their milk, the bark-bread for us was sufficient.

Thus came and went Christmas; and still we lived on, although famished.

At length, when returning one morning with bark on my shoulder,

I was met on the threshold by strangers-and thus one accosts me : Friend, either pay that thou owest, or all that thou hast will be seized

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on."

Amazed, I made answer: "Good sir, yet awhile have thou patience, And I will pay all. Heaven helping! We now are sustained

Alone on bark bread!"

Again they turned into the house, no answer vouchsafing,

Then hastily stripped from the walls our poor store of household utensils, Seized all that remained of our clothing, and carried them off to their

sledge.

Weeping, my wife lay, my excellent wife, on her straw bed,

Watching in silence the men, and all the while soothing the baby, Which lay on her bosom new-born, and kept up a wailing of sorrow. I followed them out as they bore thence the last of our chattels,

As stern in my mood as the pine when his axe at its roots lays the wood

man.

They cast up the worth of their plunder, and said that it reached not The half of the sum that they needed. Again spake the bailiff:

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"Friend," said he, this doth not suffice, but thou hast much kine in the cow-shed."

Thus saying, with no more ado, they went on to the straw-yard,
Where stood the kine under their shelter lowing for fodder.
They loosened and drove them all forth, one after another;

Still forcing them on by compulsion, unwilling to leave their old homestead.

In this way six cows were secured; the seventh, a starveling,

Dead rather than living, they left me. Thus all that I had was dis

trained on.

I spake not; in dreary despondence re-crossing my threshold,
And thus from the bed of her sorrow a low voice of misery accosts me;
"Look around if thou canst not find aught for my hunger's appeasing;
How sweet were a draught of new milk, for I thirst, and the babe find-
eth nothing!"

Thus spake she; a darkness came over my eyesight, and sorrowing
I went to the cow-shed, where stood the lean, famishing creature,
And chewed a poor mouthful of rye-straw. I pressed the dry udder,
For milk trying vainly, for not a drop answered the pressure.
Despairing, yet dreading a failure, yet harder assayed I,

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