Of ancient Roman date, but scant renown-
One of those little places that have run
Half up the hill, beneath a blazing sun,
And then sat down to rest, as if to say,
"I climb no farther upward, come what may "-
The Re Giovanni, now unknown to fame,

So many monarchs since have borne the name,
Had a great bell hung in the market-place
Beneath a roof, projecting some small space
By way of shelter from the sun and rain.

So the old steed was turned into the heat

Of the long, lonely, silent, shadowless street,
And wandered in suburban lanes forlorn,
Barked at by dogs, and torn by brier and thorn.

One afternoon, as in that sultry clime
It is the custom in the summer time,

With bolted doors, and window-shutters closed,
The inhabitants of Atri slept or dozed;
When suddenly upon their senses fell
The loud alarum of the accusing bell!

Then rode he through the streets with all his The Syndic started from his sweet repose,

train,

And, with the blast of trumpets loud and long,
Made proclamation, that whenever wrong
Was done to any man, he should but ring

The great bell in the square, and he, the king,
Would cause the Syndic to decide thereon.
Such was the proclamation of King John.

How happily the days in Atri sped,

Turned on his couch, and listened, and then rose
And donned his robes, and with reluctant pace,
Went panting forth into the market-place,
Where the great bell upon its cross-beam swung,
Reiterating with persistent tongue,

In half-articulate jargon, the old song:

What wrongs were righted, need not here be said. But ere he reached the belfry's light arcade,

Suffice it that, as all things must decay,
The hempen rope at length was worn away,
Unraveled at the end, and, strand by strand,
Loosened and wasted in the ringer's hand,
Till one, who noted this in passing by,
Mended the rope with braids of briony,
So that the leaves and tendrills of the vine
Hung like a votive garland at a shrine.
By chance it happened that in Artri dwelt
A knight, with spur on heel and sword in belt,
Who loved to hunt the wild boar in the woods,
Who loved his falcons with their crimson hoods,
Who loved his hounds and horses, and all sports
And prodigalities of camps and courts;-

He saw, or thought he saw, beneath its shade,
No shape of human form, of woman born,
But a poor steed dejected and forlorn,
Who, with uplifted head and eager eye,
Was tugging at the vines of briony.
"Domeneddio!" cried the Syndic straight,
"This is the Knight of Atri's steed of state!
He calls for justice, being sore distressed.
And pleads his cause as loudly as the best."
Meanwhile from street and lane a noisy crowd
Had rolled together, like a summer cloud,
And told the story of the wretched beast
In five-and-twenty different ways at least,
With much gesticulation and appeal

Loved, or had loved them; for at last, grown old, To heathen gods, in their excessive zeal.
His only passion was the love of gold.

He sold his horses, sold his hawks and hounds,
Rented his vineyards and his garden grounds,
Kept but one steed, his favorite steed of all,
To starve and shiver in the naked stall,
And, day by day, sat brooding in his chair,
Devising plans how best to hoard and spare.

At length he said: "What is the use or need
To keep at my own cost this lazy steed,
Eating his head off in my stables here,
When rents are low and provender is dear?
Let him go feed upon the public ways;
I want him only for the holidays."

The Knight was called and questioned; in reply
Did not confess the fact, did not deny;
Treated the matter as a pleasant jest,
And set at naught the Syndic and the rest,
Maintaining, in an angry undertone,
That he should do what pleased him with his own.

And thereupon the Syndic gravely read
The proclamation of the King; then said:
"Pride goeth forth on horseback grand and gay,
But cometh back on foot, and begs its way;
Fame is the perfume of heroic deeds,
of flowers of chivalry and not of weeds!
These are familiar proverbs; but I fear
They never yet have reached your knightly ear.

What fair renown, what honor, what repute
Can come to you from starving this poor brute?
He who serves well and speaks not merits more
Than they who clamor loudest at the door.
Therefore, the law decrees, that as this steed
Served you in youth, henceforth you shall take
heed

To comfort his old age, and to provide
Shelter in stall, and food and field beside."

Led home the steed in triumph to his stall.
The King heard and approved, and laughed in
glee,

And cried aloud: "Right well it pleaseth me
Church-bells at best but ring us to the door;
But go not in to mass; my bell doth more :
It cometh into court and pleads the cause
Of creature dumb and unknown to the laws;
And this shall inake, in every Christian clime,
The Bell of Atri famous for all time."

The Knight withdrew abashed; the people all

FOR

NOR all purposes of permanent influence all had fallen in a course of crime between no period is like childhood and youth. the ages of eight and sixteen; and that if And a man's youth, for moral improve- a young man lived an honest life up to ment, lasts the whole of his allotted life- twenty years, there were forty-nine chances time on earth. Some young people grow in favor and only one against him as to an old too fast for their highest advantage. honorable life afterward. And what is They think they have finished their educa- true in London is equally true in all other tion while yet in their teens; and some cities and towns. The character of children mothers foolishly grant practical admission in a great degree is fixed before they are to the idea. But education is never fin- sixteen. No policy is more counter to ished so long as opportunity continues, sound reason, or more perilous, than that however early it may commence. The which leaves the minds of children unprewhole of this short life may be called the judiced, as it is called, by religious teachperiod of youth for purposes of improve- ing till they are of an age to choose for ment. It is the period that determines themselves. the weal or woe that comes after it. And It overlooks the fact of a powerful naof this brief probation the first half is generally decisive of all that follows. The shape of the tree is that which it took when a twig. "The child is father to the man," simply because the man is formed in childhood. Old age is generally the ripe fruit of which childhood and youth are the seed-time and period of blossoms. So if youth is wasted, as to the purposes of mental and moral culture, old age will be cheerless and barren, or it will be rank with all the weeds of moral evil."

Lord Shaftesbury stated, at a recent public meeting in London, that he had ascertained from personal observation that, of the adult male criminals in that city, nearly

tive bias to evil, which early operates to prejudice those thus neglected against all that is true, and pure, and good. "That is my botanical garden," said Coleridge, to a friend who had maintained the correctness of such a policy, pointing to a plot of ground which was all overgrown with weeds, thistles and various noxious plants"that is my botanical garden." "Your botanical garden?" "Yes. You see I have left it unprejudiced in favor either of weeds or flowers, and when it has come to years of discretion, I am going to give it its choice to produce which of them it may please."

ALPHA.

DA

LEGEND OF DANIEL THE ANCHORET.

ANIEL the Anchoret knelt in children, and a few aged persons nearly prayer, and he grieved over the all blind or crippled, were grouped evil times upon which his lot had fallen. around the stone-mason, whose name, it "The charity of God has gone from the appeared from the conversation overearth and returned to heaven. She has heard by Daniel, was Eulogius. He folded her wings there near the throne, was instructing and encouraging his and purposes not to visit earth again. listeners to love God, be thankful to There is no one to yield the tear of Him for His mercies, and resigned to sympathy, or the mite of relief to the the trials and privations which had fallen poor of the Lord. There is no charity to their share. It became clear, from left upon the earth," said Daniel the Anchoret. He rose and trimmed the little lamp that hung before his favorite shrine, and its rays lit up his cell with unwonted splendor. The stream of light seemed suddenly to grow into shape, and the holy man became suddenly aware of a jeweled sandal, a flowing robe and a snowy wing, revealing the presence of an angel close by his side. He would have prostrated himself to venerate the messenger of God, but the angel forbade him, and motioned him to take his staff and sally forth from the hermitage. "Follow me and I will show thee one who hath true charity for the poor."

the parting blessings of the poor, that they were to see him again on the morrow, and, furthermore, that he was in the habit each day of gathering them around him and distributing among them all his earnings not strictly necessary to supply his own simple wants. The Anchoret was charmed and edified beyond measure by all he had seen and heard. He rejoiced exceedingly and gave thanks to God. Here, then, was the true friend of the poor. But oh! he began to think, what a pity it is that one who is so great of heart should be so poor himself, and able to do so little good. His charity is, indeed, unbounded; but his means, alas! are not equal The Anchoret folded his mantle about to his good-will. And straightway the him, and bending his head, he followed holy man betook himself to prayer, and the angel whithersoever he would lead. he begged of God that the generous They went on until they entered the out- artisan might become rich and great ; skirts of the neighboring town, and there for if he was so liberal in a condition the angel stopped before an humble cot- bordering upon indigence, he would be tage and disappeared, leaving the An- much the more liberal with unlimited choret to contemplate the scene before resources subject to his command. The him, and learn wisdom from what he angel appeared again to the Anchoret: might see. Blocks of marble and slabs" Thy prayer, O Daniel, is not a wise of travertine, rough-shapened by the one; it were not well for Eulogius to chisel, lay scattered round about, show- become rich." But Daniel could not ing that the occupant of the cottage fol- help thinking of the greater number of lowed the craft of a stone-dresser. The poor who would be relieved, and of the craftsman himself was seated in front of splendid example the virtuous and frugal his door, under a canopy formed by a Eulogius would give to other rich. luxuriant vine, now laden with bunches men, were he, indeed, to become rich of purple grapes. Some ragged little himself. He continued to pray that his.

wish might be granted, and in the fervor of his zeal he pledged himself to God as security for the good use his fellow-servant would make of wealth and power were they to become his portion. So, then, God granted the prayer of the Anchoret, and He ordained that Eulogins, while hewing stone from the side of a hill, should displace a mass of loose fragments and earth, which took his feet from under him and threw him upon the ground. Eulogius was terrified; but when the noise was over, and the dust had cleared away, he rose and saw lying at his feet a huge lump of pure shining gold. He was rich, and that neighborhood saw him no more, for taking with him his wonderful treasure, he went to the court of Justin the Elder, and became a great general of the empire.

curity, in his inconsiderate zeal to promote the welfare of the poor. O what a dark catalogue of sins was brought forward against the unfortunate culprit! He had used the gold, miraculously put within his reach, to purchase the servants of the aged Emperor Justin, and gain access to his favor. He had been made, by means of bribery and corrup tion, the chief of a great army; and he had outstripped all the soldiery in excesses of every kind, in the same proportion as he rose above them in power. He had robbed the churches, pillaged the cloisters, and finally had joined one Pompey, and one Hypatius, in a conspiracy to take the life of the Emperor Justinian, who had succeeded Justin on the throne.

Daniel was not able to hear or see more, but, weeping bitterly, he fell prostrate on his face in the presence of God, and begged him to bring Eulogius back to his former condition, and to release him from a pledge that had proved so injurious for both parties concerned.

Several years were passed and gone, and Daniel the Anchoret still continued to trim the little lamp that burned before the shrine in the mountain cave, which he had chosen for his cell. His head was now bent, his step was slower The angel bore to the foot of the and less firm as he went down the moun- throne the prayer of the aged servant tain side to visit and console the neigh- of God, whose heart was filled with boring poor, whom he loved so much. grief and bitter remorse, and the request The old man's thoughts were fixed upon it contained was again mercifully grantthe future. His long hair and vener- ed. The conspiracy in which Eulogius able beard was tufted with white was implicated came to be discovered, "crests," he would say, "upon the his accomplices were brought to justice, wave of time about to break upon the and he narrowly escaped with his life. shore of eternity." It chanced one He did penance for his sins, returned to night about this season that Daniel had his former obscurity, worked again at his knelt long in prayer, when it seemed to craft as a stone-dresser, and in time rehim he beheld the throne of God sud- sumed the practice of alms-giving, which denly erected as for a solemn judgment he had changed in an evil hour for deeds about to take place, and the culprit of rapine and plunder. Thus the good summoned before the awful presence of angel guardian of Daniel the Anchoret the Judge was (but, oh! how changed from succeeded at length in convincing him his former self!) the stone-dresser Eu- that avarice but too often hardens the logius. Daniel, likewise, to his infinite heart of wealth, thus disturbing sorrow and dismay, was called to ap- order of God's providence on earth, and pear by the side of him for whose good that the poor are not unfrequently the conduct he had pledged himself as se- best friends of the poor. Vol. III.--3.

the