And take these cakes I made for him,
They are hot and smoking yet;

You have time enough to go and come
Before the sun is set."

Then the good wife turned to her labor,
Humming a simple song,

And thought of her husband working hard
At the sluices all day long;

And set the turf ablazing,

And brought the coarse black bread, That he might find a fire at night,

And see the table spread.

And Peter left the brother

With whom all day he had played,
And the sister who had watched their sports
In the willow's tender shade.

And told them they'd see him back before
They saw a star in sight,
Though he wouldn't be afraid to go

In the very darkest night!

For he was a brave, bright fellow,
With eye and conscience clear;
He could do whatever a boy might do,
And he had not learned to fear.

Why, he wouldn't have robbed a bird's nest,
Nor brought a stork to harm,

Though never a law in Holland
Had stood to stay his arm!

And now with his face all glowing,
And eyes as bright as the day,
With thoughts of his pleasant errand
He trudged along the way.
And soon his joyous prattle
Made glad a lonesome place-

Alas! if only the blind old man

Could have seen that happy face!

Yet he somehow caught the brightness
Which his voice and presence lent;
And he felt the sunshine come and go
As Peter came and went.

And now, as the day was sinking
And the winds began to risc,

The mother looked from her door again,
Shading her anxious eyes;

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
An hour above the sea.

He was stooping to gather flowers,
And listening to the sound,

As the angry waters dashed themselves
Against their narrow bound.

"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 his blossoms fall to the ground.

He is up the bank in a moment,
And, stealing through the sand,
He sees a stream not yet so large
As his slender, childish hand.

'Tis a leak in the dike! IIe is but a boy, Unused to fearful scenes,

But young as he is he has learned to know
The dreadful thing that means.

A leak in the dike! The stoutest heart
Grows faint that cry to hear,

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 sea When loosed in its angry might.

And the boy? He has seen the danger,
And, shouting a wild alarm,

He forces back the weight of the sea
With the strength of his single arm.
He hears the rough winds blowing,
And the waters rise and fall,
But never a call comes back to him
In answer to his call.

He sees no hope, no succor,

His feeble voice is lost;

Yet what shall he do but watch and wait
Though he perish at his post?

The good dame in the cottage
Is up and astir with the light,
For the thought of her little Peter

Has been with her all the night.
And now she watches the pathway
As yester eve she had done;

But what does she see so strange and black Against the rising sun?

And the startled father hears,

And comes to look the way she looks,
Fearing the thing she fears

Till a glad shout from the bearers

Thrills the stricken man and wife

"Give thanks, for your son has saved our land And God has saved his life!"

So there in the morning sunshine
They knelt about the boy;
And every head was bared and bent
In tearful, reverent joy.

'Tis many a year since then; but still
When the sea roars like a flood,

Their boys are taught what a boy can do
Who is brave and true and good.
For every man in that country
Takes his own son by the hand,

And tells him of little Peter,
Whose courage saved the land.

They have many a valiant hero,

Remembered through the years, But never one whose name so oft Is named with loving tears.

And his deed shall be sung by the cradle

And told to the child on the knee,

So long as the dikes of Holland

Divide the land from the sea.

PARTRIDGE AT THE PLAY.

HENRY FIELDING.

IN the first row, then, of the first gallery, did Mr. Jones, Mrs. Miller, her youngest daughter, and Partridge take their places. Partridge immediately declared it was the finest place he had ever been in. When the first music

was played, he said, "It was a wonder how so many fiddlers could play at one time without putting one another out." Nor could he help observing, with a sigh, when all the candles were lighted, "That here were candles enough burned in one night to keep an honest poor family for a twelvemonth."

As soon as the play, which was Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, began, Partridge was all attention, nor did he break silence till the entrance of the Ghost, upon which he asked Jones, "What man that was in the strange dress, something," said he, "like what I have seen in a picture. Sure it is not armor, is it?" Jones answered, "That is the Ghost." To which Partridge replied with a smile, "Persuade me to that, sir, if you can. Though I can't say I ever actually saw a ghost in my life, yet I am certain I should know one if I saw him better than that comes to. No, no, sir; ghosts don't appear in such dresses as that neither." In this mistake, which caused much laughter in the neighborhood of Partridge, he was suffered to continue till the scene between the Ghost and Hamlet, when Partridge gave that credit to Mr. Garrick which he had denied to Jones, and fell into so violent a trembling that his knees knocked against each other. Jones asked him what was the matter, and whether he was afraid of the warrior