"A bill!-Squire Bodkin!" echoed Pimpkin, aghast. "Yes," smiled the Sheriff, "a bill for professional services in the case of 'Pimpkin versus Bodkin.' He says you sought The bill is advice upon legal points bearing on the case. five dollars, sir-expense of officer, one dollar-total, six dollars." Pimpkin scratched his head vigorously, but he could scratch no path out from the trouble. He paid the bill, and from that time he was never heard to speak boastingly of his legal acumen. THE LEAK IN THE DIKE.-РHŒBE CARY. A STORY OF HOLLAND. The good dame looked from her cottage "Come, Peter, come! I want you to go, While there is light to see, To the hut of the blind old man who lives And take these cakes I made for him, You have time enough to go and come Then the good-wife turned to her labor, And thought of her husband, working hard And set the turf a-blazing, And brought the coarse black bread; That he might find a fire at night, And find the table spread. And Peter left the brother, With whom all day he'd played, And the sister who had watched their sports In the willow's tender shade; And told them they'd see him back before Though he wouldn't be afraid to go For he was a brave, bright fellow, With eye and conscience clear; He could do whatever a boy might do, Why, he wouldn't have robbed a bird's nest, And now, with his face all glowing, And soon his joyous prattle Made glad a lonesome place Alas! if only the blind old man Could have seen that happy face- And now, as the day was sinking, The mother looked from her door again, And saw the shadows deepen, And birds to their homes come back, But never a sign of Peter Along the level track. But she said, "He will come at morning, So I need not fret or grieve Though it isn't like my boy at all To stay without my leave." But where was the child delaying? On the homeward way was he, And across the dike while the sun was up He was stopping now to gather flowers, As the angry waters dashed themselves "Ah! well for us," said Peter, "That the gates are good and strong, And my father tends them carefully, Or they would not hold you long!" "You're a wicked sea," said Peter; "I know why you fret and chafe; You would like to spoil our lands and homes: But our sluices keep you safe!" But hark! Through the noise of waters Comes a low, clear, trickling sound; And the child's face pales with terror, And, stealing through the sand, 'Tis a leak in the dike! He is but a boy, Unused to fearful scenes; But, young as he is, he has learned to know A leak in the dike! The stoutest heart And the bravest man in all the land Turns white with mortal fear. For he knows the smallest leak may grow To a flood in a single night; And he knows the strength of the cruel sca And the boy! He has seen the danger, He forces back the weight of the sea He listens for the joyful sound Of a footstep passing nigh; And lays his ear to the ground to catch And he hears the rough winds blowing, And the waters rise and fall, But never an answer comes to him, Save the echo of his call. He sees no hope, no succor, His feeble voice is lost; Yet what shall he do but watch and wait, So, faintly calling and crying He thinks of his brother and sister, The good dame in the cottage For the thought of her little Peter And now she watches the pathway, But what does she see so strange and black Her neighbors are bearing between them He is dead!" she cries; "my darling! And comes and looks the way she looks Till a glad shout from the bearers Thrills the stricken man and wife- So, there in the morning sunshine And every head was bared and bent 'Tis many a year since then; but still, Their boys are taught what a boy can do They have many a valiant hero And his deed shall be sung by the cradle, So long as the dikes of Holland THE SINGER'S ALMS. In Lyons, in the mart of that French town, The thoroughfare, caught the child's glance and smiled To see behind its eyes a noble soul; This chance of pearl to do another good; The asked-for penny, then aside he stood, And, with his hat held as by limb the nest, He covered his kind face and sang his best. The sky was blue above, and all the lane Of commerce where the singer stood was filled, And many paused, and, listening, paused again To hear the voice that through and through them thrilled; I think the guardian angel helped along That cry for pity woven in a song. The singer stood between the beggars there A slim, perpetual finger in the air Held toward heaven, land of the heart's desire, The hat of its stamped brood was emptied soon And noon in her glad heart drove forth her tears. 66 But when at night he came upon the stage, Cheer after cheer went up from that wild throng, That for the beggars he had sung that day Oh! cramped and narrow is the man who lives Makes smooth and green, and strews with flowers, his way. |