inheritance by a wicked man. That I might not be able to harm him, he has sent me hither, far, far from my native land. Ah, my fatherland! It lies opposite those high ice mountains, and is called Naples. There, it is never winter, and here I am often so cold! But I have said enough about myself. Come, my new young friend. I will now give you as much for your pleasant music as I can."

The prince took Joseph by the hand, and led him up and down through a row of rooms. One was still more splendid than the other. They were glittering with gold and silver; purple hangings, gay carpets, silken couches, and crystal candlesticks; everything was to be found here. Joseph clasped his hands together with wonder, and thought to himself in secret: "How delightful it would be to live in this castle!" A hundred times he wished himself in the place of the prince, and he could not understand how he could feel sorrowful, when nothing was wanting in this splendid abundance.

With jests and play the hours passed by quickly and unnoticed, till late evening approached, and the prince, although unwillingly, had to remind his friend that they must part. With aching heart Joseph prepared to leave the charming place and his delightful playfellow, after promising many times to return. The sentinels saved him the trouble, and told him when he reached the gate, that he must now stay with the prince, and would never be allowed to leave the castle again.

Who was better pleased than Joseph? who more delighted than the prince, who now had a companion, who seemed willing to share his lot with pleasure, and forget flock, home, and former friends, for this new mode of life? Gaines, stories, songs, and the sweet melodies of the flute shortened the days, and many of them had

passed before discontent and sadness came into Joseph's heart. The boy, who had always been so lively b›fore, sat now for hours in a corner, while the prince sat in another to lament the sorrow of his friend. A nameless longing had taken possession of the shepherd boyhomesickness-a desire for freedom robbed him of his

rest. In vain he rolled about on his silken couches; in vain he tried to be pleased with the glittering toys. Sleep fled from his bed; the toys became disgusting in his sight; the food in the golden dishes made him sick, as well as the wine in the crystal cup. The song of the birds was tiresome; the funny chattering of the parrots he thought absurd; even his flute he would no longer touch, and when he went to the window, looked out into the blue sky, and his glance fell upon the surny fields or the green surface of the lake, tears came into his eyes. Weeping, he fled from the room; but the noise of arias at the gate reminded him that he was a prisoner in the fortress. The prince consoled him as well as he could, but he could not silence the longing for home.

It happened that the prince fell asleep one afternoon on his couch, and Joseph went to the window once more to cry. Behold! he fancied he saw his flocks grazing on the other side of the lake, his faithful dog seeming to look at him, with tail wagging, as if wishing to call his master over to him. It went to the boy's heart, and some voice within him cried: "Flee, flee quickly! This is the moment, or never!" He yielded to the feeling, and hastened to the door of the room. Then he thought of his young friend: to leave him so was hard. He would see him once more. He went over to his couch. The prince seemed sound asleep; but Joseph, bending down to listen to his breathing, became terrified, for the heart was no longer beating, no breath heaved

his breast; a sweet death had delivered him gently from his sorrows. Joseph rushed into the passage to cry for help, but the court was empty, the gate of the castle was open, and the sentinels had fallen asleep from the sultry heat. The moment was favorable. One more farewell to the departed friend, a short prayer to his Father in heaven, and the shepherd boy stole safely past the soldiers out of the castle.

With hasty steps he had soon reached the spot where the faithful dog watched the flock intrusted to his care, though his poor fare had made him lean. The lambs and their four-footed protector received their long wished for master with the greatest joy; and full of delight to have escaped the prison, Joseph commenced a merry mountain lay. But the prince no longer leaned from the window to listen, and fresh tears to his memory interrupted the shepherd's song. The fresh evening breeze, the murmuring of the lake, and the joyful advances of his flock gave him the purest delight.

His breast grew light as he breathed the fragrant flowers and the pure air; and as he from afar beheld the modest thatched roof of his father's cottage, he shouted aloud with joy; and driving his flock to quicker pace by the sound of his flute, he cried: "Welcome, my father's roof! welcome, valley of my home! How gladly I have left the costly palace to return to thee! Here I find no gold or silver, or precious stones; but free from bars, no longer threatened by the swords of cruel watchmen, I shall enjoy calm peace I shall be poor but I shall be happy."

NOTES FOR COMPOSITION.

A Swiss shepherd boy used to tend his flocks on the slope of a valley, opposite an old castle. While so doing he often played upon his flute.

A pale-faced boy in the castle window used to listen to him all day. The shepherd wishing to find out who the boy was, wandered one day toward the castle. The soldiers on guard there caught him. They were prevented from harming him by the little boy, at whose request Joseph was led up to his room. The boy was a young prince, imprisoned by his enemy. He showed Joseph his beautiful rooms. Joseph, after playing all day wished to go home, but the soldiers would not let him. Joseph gladly remained, but soon began to sigh for home. One afternoon the prince died. Joseph, alarmed, went to call help, but seeing the door open escaped to his flocks again. He was happy to see his poor home and no longer wished for riches or splendor.

ME

If thou wilt, let us build- but for whom?
Nor Elias nor Moses appear;

But the shadows of eve that encompass the gloom,
The abode of the dead, and the place of the tomb.

Shall we build to ambition? Ah, no!
Affrighted, he shrinketh away;

For, see! they would pin him below

In a small, narrow cave, and, begirt with cold clay,
To the meanest of reptiles a peer and a prey.

To beauty? Ah, no! she forgets
The charms which she wielded before;

Nor knows the foul worm that he frets

The skin which but yesterday fools could adore
For the smoothness it held, or the tint which it wore.

Shall we build to the purple of pride

The trappings which dizzen the crowd?
Alas! they are all laid aside;

And here's neither dress nor adornment allowed,

But the long winding-sheet, and the fringe of the shroud

To riches? Alas! 'tis in vain;

Who hid, in their turn have been hid;

The treasures are squandered again ;

And here in the grave are all metals forbid,
But the tinsel that shines on the dark coffin lid.

To the pleasures which mirth can afford — The revel, the laugh and the jeer?

Ah! here is a plentiful board!

But the guests are all mute as their pitiful cheer,
And none but the worm is a reveller here.

Unto sorrow? The dead cannot grieve,

Not a sob, not a sigh meets nine ear,

Which compassion itself could relieve!

Ah! sweetly they slumber, nor hope, love, nor fear-
Peace, peace is the watchword, the only one here!

Unto death, to whom monarchs must bow?

Ah, no! for his empire is known,

And here there are trophies enow!

Beneath, the cold dead, and around, the dark stone,
Are the signs of a sceptre that none may disown!

The first tabernacle to hope we will build,
And look for the sleepers around us to rise;

The second to faith, which ensures it fulfilled; And the third to the Lamb of the great sacrifice,

Who bequeathed us them both when he rose to the skies.