That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom swept his brush daintily back and forthstepped back to note the effect-added a touch here and there-criticised the effect again, Ben watching every move, and getting more and more interested, more and more absorbed. Presently he said: 66 'Say, Tom, let me whitewash a little." Tom considered-was about to consent-but he altered his mind. "No, no; I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful particular about this fence-right here on the street, you know-but if it was the back fence I wouldn't mind, and she wouldn't. Yes, she's awful particular about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it in the way it's got to be done." "No-is that so? Oh, come now, lemme just try, only just a little. I'd let you, if you was me, Tom." "Ben, I'd like to, honest Injin; but Aunt Polly—well, Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let him. Sid wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let Sid. Now don't you see how I'm fixed? If you was to tackle this fence, and anything was to happen to it-" "Oh, shucks! I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say-I'll give you the core of my apple." 66 Well, here. No, Ben; now don't; I'm afeard—” "I'll give you all of it!" Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his heart. And while Ben worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of material; boys happened along every little while; they came to jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time Ben was fagged out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with; and so on, and so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a poor,poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally rolling in wealth. He had, beside the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jew's-harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass door-knob, a dog collar-but no dog-the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange peel, and a dilapidated old window-sash. Tom had had a nice, good, idle time all the while- plenty of company and the fence had three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash, he would have bankrupted every boy in the village. He said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human action without knowing it-namely, that in order to make a man or a boy cove a thing, it is only necessary to make it difficult to attain. - Extract from "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer." MY WIFE AND CHILD.-HENRY R. JACKSON. The following poem was written while the author was in command of the first Georgia regiment, then in camp on the Rio Grande, below Matamoras,-a part of Gen. Taylor's army of Mexican invasion. The tattoo beats, the lights are gone, The night with solemn pace moves on, I think of thee, my dearest one, And hover gently, hover near To her, whose watchful eye is wet- In whose young heart have freshly met Now, while she kneels before Thy throne, Earth's mightiest powers fall or rise, That Thou canst stay the ruthless hands Thou bring'st the wanderer home again. And when upon her pillow lone The brightening current of her breast; Whatever fate those forms may show, O God, protect my wife and child! THE INDIAN CHIEFTAIN. "Twas late in the autumn of '53 That, making some business-like excuse, Born and cradled in Maiden Lane, But I belonged to a genteel set Of clerks with souls above their sphere, Who, night after night, together met To feast on intellectual cheer. We talked of Irving and Bryant and Spratt- Of Willis, and how much they pay him per page Of Sonntag and Jullien and Art, and all that And what d'ye call it ?-the Voice of the Age! We wrote little pieces on purling brooks, And meadow, and zephyr, and sea, and skyThings of which we had seen good descriptions in books, And the last between houses some sixty feet high! Somehow in this way my soul got fired; I wanted to see and hear and know The glorious things that our hearts inspired— And I had heard of the dark-browed braves Of the famous Onondaga race, Who once paddled the birch o'er Mohawk's waves, Or swept his shores in war and the chase. I'd see that warrior stern and fleet! Aye, bowed though he be with oppression's abuse, I'd grasp his hand!- -so in Chambers Street I took my passage for Syracuse. Arrived at last, I gazed upon The smoke-dried wigwam of the tribe. "The depot, sir,"-suggested one I smiled to scorn the idle gibe. Then to the baggage-man I cried, "Oh, point me an Indian chieftain out!" Rudely he grinned as he replied, "You'll see 'em loafin' all about!" Wounded, I turned-when lo, e'en now I know him by his falcon eye, His raven tress and mien of pride; Those dingy draperies, as they fly, Tell that a great soul throbs inside! No eagle-feathered crown he wears, Capping in pride his kingly brow; But his crownless hat in grief declares, "I am an unthroned monarch now!" "Oh, noble son of a royal line!" I exclaim, as I gaze into his face, "How shall I knit my soul to thine? How right the wrongs of thine injured race? What shall I do for thee, glorious one? To soothe thy sorrows my soul aspires. Speak! and say how the Saxon's son May atone for the wrongs of his ruthless sires." He speaks! he speaks!-that noble chief! THE DRUNKARD'S "TEN COMMANDMENTS." I believe in the existence of one Mr. Alcohol, the great head and chief of all manner of vice, the source of ninetenths of all diseases; and I not only believe, but am sure, that when my money is gone and spent, the landlord will stop the tap and turn me out. I have ten commandments to keep-the same which the landlord and the landlady spake in the bar, saying, we are thy master and thy mistress, who brought thee out of the paths of virtue, placed thee in the ways of vice, and set thy feet on the road which leads to misery, starvation, and eternal destruction: I. Thou shalt use no other house but mine. II. Thou shalt not make to thyself any substitute for intoxicating drinks, such as tea, coffee, ginger-pop, and lemonade; for I am a jealous man, wearing the coat that should be on thy back, eating thy children's bread, and pocketing the money which should make thee and thy wife happy all the days of thy life. III. Thou shalt not use my house in vain. IV. Remember that thou eat but one meal on the Sabbath. Six days shalt thou drink, and spend all thy money, but the seventh day is the Sabbath, wherein I wash my floors, mend my fires, and make ready for my company the remaining part of the week. V. Thou shalt honor the landlords, the landladies, and the gin-shops with thy presence, that thy days may be few and miserable in the land wherein thou dwellest. VI. Thou shalt commit murder, by starving, hungering, and beating thy wife and family. VII. Thou shalt commit self-destruction. VIII. Thou shalt sell thy wife's and children's bread, and rob thyself of all thy comforts. IX. Thou shalt bear false witness when thou speakest of the horrors, saying thou art in good health when laboring under the barrel fever. X. Thou shalt covet all thy neighbor is possessed of, thou shalt covet his house, his purse, his health, his wealth, and |