XLIII. THE GENEROUS RUSSIAN PEASANT.

1. LET Virgil sing the praises of Augustus, genius celebrate merit, and flattery extol the talents of the great. "The short and simple annals of the poor" engross my pen; and while I record the history of Flor Silin's virtues, though I speak of a poor peasant, I shall describe a noble man. I ask no eloquence to assist me in the task; modest worth rejects the aid of ornament to set it off.

2. It is impossible, even at this distant period, to reflect without horror on the miseries of that year known in Lower Volga by the name of the "famine year." I remember the summer, whose scorching heats had dried up all the fields, and the drought had no relief but from the tears of the ruined farmer.

3. I remember the cold, comfortless autumn, and the despairing rustics, crowding round their empty barns, with folded arms and sorrowful countenances, pondering on their misery, instead of rejoicing, as usual, at the golden harvest. I remember the winter which succeeded, and I reflect with agony on the miseries it brought with it. Whole families left their homes to become beggars on the highway.

4. At night the canopy of heaven served them as their only shelter from the piercing winds and bitter frost. To describe these scenes would be to harm the feelings of my readers; therefore, to my tale. In those days I lived on an estate not far from Simbirsk; and, though but a child, I have not forgotten the impression made on my mind by the general calamity.

5. In a village adjoining lived Flor Silin, a poor, laboring peasant: a man remarkable for his assiduity and the skill and judgment with which he cultivated his lands. He was blessed with abundant crops; and his means

being larger than his wants, his granaries, even at this time, were full of corn. The dry year coming on had beggared all the village except himself. Here was an opportunity to grow rich. Mark how Flor Silin acted. Having called the poorest of his neighbors about him, he addressed them in the following manner:

6. "My friends, you want corn for your subsistence. God has blessed me with abundance. Assist in thrashing out a quantity, and each of you take what he wants for his family." The peasants were amazed at this unexampled generosity; for sordid propensities exist in the village as well as in the populous city.

7. The fame of Flor Silin's benevolence having reached other villages, the famished inhabitants presented themselves before him, and begged for corn. This good creature received them as brothers; and, while his store remained, afforded all relief. At length, his wife, seeing no end to the generosity of his noble spirit, reminded him how necessary it would be to think of their own wants, and hold his lavish hand before it was too late. "It is written in the Scripture," said he, “Give, and it shall be given unto you."

8. The following year Providence listened to the prayers of the poor, and the harvest was abundant. The peasants who had been saved from starving by Flor Silin now gathered around him.

9. "Behold," said they, "the corn you lent us. You saved our wives and children. We should have been famished but for you; may God reward you; he only can; all we have to give is our corn and grateful thanks." "I want no corn at present, my good neighbors," said he; "my harvest has exceeded all my expectations; for the rest, thank heaven: I have been but an humble instrument."

10. They urged him in vain. "No," said he, "I shall not accept your corn. If you have superfluities, share

them among your poor neighbors, who, being unable to Sow their fields last autumn, are still in want; let us assist them, my dear friends; the Almighty will bless us for it." "Yes," replied the grateful peasants, "our poor neighbors shall have this corn. They shall know it is to you that they owe this timely succor, and join to teach their children the debt of gratitude due to your benevolent heart." Silin raised his tearful eyes to heaven. An angel might have envied him his feelings.

-Nikolai Karamzin.

DEFINITIONS.-1. Ex-tŏl', to elevate by praise. An'nals, history of events. En-grōss', to occupy wholly. El'o-quençe, the power of speaking well. 2. Drought (pro. drout), want of rain or water. 4. Es-tate', property in land. 5. Grăn'a-ry, a storehouse for grain. 6. Sub-sist ́ençe, means of support. Pro-pěn'si-ties, bent of mind, inclination. 10. Su-per-flu'i-ties, greater quantities than are wanted. Sue'eor, aid, help.

NOTES.-1. Virgil was the greatest of Roman poets. He was born in the year 70 before Christ, and died 19 B. C.

Augustus Cæsar was Emperor of Rome in the latter portion of Virgil's life, and received many compliments in the verses of his friend the poet.

2. Lower Volga is a district in Eastern Russia, bordering on the Caspian Sea, and takes its name from the river Volga. 4. Simbirsk is a town of Eastern Russia, on the Volga.

XLIV. FORTY YEARS AGO.

1. I've wandered to the village, Tom,
I've sat beneath the tree,

Upon the school-house play-ground,
That sheltered you and me;
But none were left to greet me, Tom,
And few were left to know,

Who played with me upon the green,
Just forty years ago.

3. The old school-house is altered some; The benches are replaced

By new ones very like the same

Our jack-knives had defaced.

But the same old bricks are in the wall,

The bell swings to and fro;

Its music's just the same, dear Tom,

"T was forty years ago.

4. The spring that bubbled 'neath the hill, Close by the spreading beech,

Is

very low; 't was once so high

That we could almost reach;

And kneeling down to take a drink,
Dear Tom, I started so,

To think how very much I've changed
Since forty years ago.

5. Near by that spring, upon an elm,
You know, I cut your name,

Your sweetheart's just beneath it, Tom;
you did mine the same.

And

Some heartless wretch has peeled the bark;
'Twas dying sure, but slow,

Just as that one whose name you cut
Died forty years ago.

6. My lids have long been dry, Tom,
But tears came in my eyes:

I thought of her I loved so well,
Those early broken ties.

I visited the old church-yard,

And took some flowers to strew
Upon the graves of those we loved
Just forty years ago.

7. Some are in the church-yard laid, Some sleep beneath the sea; And none are left of our old class

Excepting you and me.

And when our time shall come, Tom,
And we are called to go,

I hope we'll meet with those we loved

Some forty years ago.