TO THE BOYS. FROM 'SNOW BERRIES." DON'T you be afraid, boys, Keep yourselves good-natured, Or the lovely red rose Or the June to smother all If they say the teaching Get astride the fence, boys, And answer with a Whew! I'll tell you what it is, boys, At the head of every pin. And never kite flew skyward And when the days aro vanished, So don't you be afraid, boys, In spite of bar and ban, To whistle, it will help you each To make an honest man. THE POET TO THE PAINTER. PAINTER, paint me a sycamore, A spreading and snowy-limbed tree, With a winding and dusty road before, "Twill take your finest skill to draw The little girl in the hat of straw You have painted frock and hat complete! Now, painter, paint the hop-vine swing Close to the group of three, And a bird with bright brown eyes and wing, "Twit twit, twit twit, twee!" That is all the song he makes, And the child to mocking laughter breaks, Father and mother and me!" Pretty darling, her world is small,- Ah, painter, your hand is still! You have made the group of three But you cannot make all the skill Of your colors say, "Twit twit, twee!" COOPER. JAMES FENIMORE COOPER was born at Burlington, New Jersey, September 15, 1789. At an early age he removed with his father to the neighborhood of Otsego Lake, New York, where he passed his boyhood, "surrounded by noble scenery, and a population composed of adventurous settlers, hardy trappers, and the remnant of the noble Indian tribes who were once sole lords of the domain." * At thirteen, young Cooper entered Yale College, where he proved himself an excellent classical student: but leaving after a term of three years, he entered the navy as midshipman, and remained six years in the service. He then married, and settled down to a domestic and village life near the city of New York. Cooper's literary career was begun by accident, as it would seem. One evening, laying aside an English novel which he had been reading to his wife, he remarked, half playfully, that he believed he could write a better one himself. Precaution was the result of this sudden conviction; but, if we may judge of its worth both by its author's and the public's estimation of it, it is not altogether certain that Cooper realized the conceit which gave birth to the effort. Cooper published, in 1821, what is conceded to have been the first successful American novel, entitled, The Spy, a Tale of the Neutral Ground. "The rugged, homely worth of Harvey Birch (the Spy), his native shrewdness combined with heroic boldness, which develops itself in deeds, not in the heroic speeches which an ordinary novelist would have placed in his mouth, the dignified presentation of Washington in the slight disguise of the assumed name of Harper, the spirit of the battle scenes and hairbreadth escapes which abound in the *Duyckinck's Cyclopædia of American Literature. narrative, the pleasant and truthful home scenes of the country mansion, place The Spy in the foremost rank of fiction."* 46 CHAPTER IX., VOL. I.—AN EXTRACT. 'WELL, Tom, your slanderous propensity is incurable--but," stretching forward his body in the direction he was gazing, as if to aid him in distinguishing objects through the darkness, "what animal is moving through the field on our right?" “”Tis a man,” said Mason, looking intently at the suspicious object. "By his hump 'tis a dromedary," added the captain, still eyeing it keenly. Wheeling his horse suddenly from the highway, he exclaimed, “Harvey Birch-take him dead or alive." Mason and a few of the leading dragoons only understood the sudden cry, but it was heard throughout the line. A dozen of the men, with the lieutenant at their head, followed the impetuous Lawton, and their speed threatened the pursued with a sudden termination to the race. Birch prudently kept his position on the rock, where he had been seen by the passing glance of Henry Wharton, until evening had begun to shroud the surrounding objects in darkness. From this height he had seen all the events of the day as they occurred. He had watched, with a beating heart, the departure of the troops under Dunwoodie, and with difficulty had curbed his impatience until the obscurity of night should render his moving free from danger. He had not, however, completed a fourth of his way to his own residence, when his quick ear distinguished the tread of the approaching horse. Trusting to the increasing darkness, he, notwithstanding, determined to persevere. By crouching and moving quickly along the surface of the ground, he hoped yet to escape unnoticed. Captain Lawton was too much engrossed with the foregoing conversation to suffer his eyes to indulge in their usual wandering; and the pedler, perceiving by the voices that the enemy he most feared had passed him, yielded to his impatience, and stood erect, in order to make greater progress. The moment his body arose above the shadow of the ground, it was seen, and the chase commenced. For a single instant Birch remained helpless, with his blood curdling in his veins at the imminence of his danger, Duyckinck's Cyclopædia of American Literature. and his legs refusing their natural, and what was now so neces sary office. But it was for a moment only. Casting his pack where he stood, and instinctively tightening the belt he wore, the pedler betook himself to flight. He knew that by bringing himself into a line with his pursuers and the wood his form would be lost to the sight. This he soon effected, and he was straining every nerve to gain the wood itself, when several horsemen rode by him but a short distance on his left, and cut him off from this place of refuge. The pedler threw himself on the ground as they came near him, and was in this manner passed unseen. But delay, now, became too dangerous for him to remain in that position. He accordingly arose, and still keeping in the shadow of the wood, along the skirts of which he heard voices crying to each other to be watchful, he ran with incredible speed in a parallel line, but in an opposite direction, to the march of the dragoons. The confusion of the chase had been heard by the whole of the men, though none distinctly understood the order of the hasty Lawton but those who followed. The remainder were lost in doubt as to the duty that was required of them; and the aforesaid cornet was making eager inquiries of the trooper near him on the subject, when a man, at a short distance in his rear, crossed the road in a single bound. At the same instant the stentorian voice of Captain Lawton rang through the valley, shouting in a manner that told the truth at once to his men: Harvey Birch—take him dead or alive." Fifty pistols lighted the scene instantly, and the bullets whistled in every direction around the head of the devoted pedler. A feeling of despair seized his heart, and he exclaimed bitterly: "Hunted like a beast of the forest." He felt life and its accompaniments to be a burden, and was about to yield himself to his enemies. Nature, however, prevailed; he feared that, if taken, his life would not be honored with the forms of a trial, but that most probably the morning sun would witness his ignominious execution; for he had already been condemned to die as a spy, and only escaped that fate by stratagem. These considerations, with the approaching footsteps of his pursuers, roused him to new exertions; and he again fled before them. A fragment of a wall that had withstood the ravages made by war, in the adjoining fences of wood, fortunately crossed his path. He hardly had time to throw his exhausted limbs over |