"The count is wrong! There is a mistake! Don't take her!" exclaimed the father, as the executioners were laying hands upon Telesile-"take me, for I was the tenth!"

"Not so," said Telesile, calmly. "You all saw that the number came to me."

"She put herself in my way-she took my place-on me! let the blow fall on me!" pleaded the old man; while Telesile as earnestly insisted that she was the rightly chosen victim.

Amazed to see two persons striving for the privilege of death, the executioners dragged them before Charles the Bold, that he might decide the question between them.

Charles was no less amazed at beholding once more the maiden and the old man who had already appeared before him and at learning the cause of their strange dispute; for he knew not yet that they were parent and child. Notwithstanding his violent disposition, the conqueror had a heart which pity could sometimes touch, and he was powerfully moved by the sight that met his eyes.

"I pray you hear me!" cried Telesile, throwing herself at his feet. "I am a simple maiden; my life is of no account; then let me die, my lord duke! But spare, oh, spare him, the best, the noblest of men, whose life is useful to all our unhappy people!"

"Do not listen to her!" exclaimed the old man, almost too much affected to speak; "or, if you do, let her own words confute her argument. You behold her courage, her piety, her self-sacrifice-I see you are touched! You will not, you can not, destroy so precious a life! It is I who am now worthless to my people. My days are almost spent. Even if you spare me, I have but a little while to live."

Then Telesile, perceiving the eyes of Charles bent upon her with a look of mingled admiration and pity, said, "Do not think there is anything wonderful in my conduct; I do but my simple duty; I plead for my father's life!"

"Yes, I am her father," said the old man, moved by a sudden resolve. "And I am something more. My lord duke, behold the man on whom you have sworn to have revenge. I am he who defended the city so long against you. Now let me die!"

At this a multitude of people broke from the line in which they had been arranged, and, surrounding the governor and his daughter, made a rampart of their bodies about them, exclaiming, "Let us die for him! We will die for our good governor!"

All the better part of Charles's rude nature was roused. Tears were in his own eyes, his voice was shaken by emotion. "Neither shall die!" he cried. "Old man! fair maiden! I spare your lives; and for your sake, the lives of all these people. Nay, do not thank me; for I have gained in this interview a knowledge which I could never have acquired through years of conquest-that human love is greater than kingly power, and that mercy is sweeter than vengeance!"

Well would it have been for the rash Charles could he have gained that knowledge earlier, or have shaped his future life by it even then. Still fired by ambition and the love of power, he went forth to fight Duke Rene, who now appeared with an army to relieve his fair city of Nancy. A battle ensued, in which Charles was defeated and slain; and in the midst of joy and thanksgiving, the rightful duke entered and once more took possession of the town.

Warmly as he was welcomed, there were two who shared with him the honors of that happy day-the old man who had defended Nancy so long and well, and the young girl whose heroic conduct had saved from massacre one-tenth of all its inhabitants.

-Author Unknown

Words: Burgundy—a province in the eastern part of France, but an independent dukedom at the time of the story; intrepid-courageous; braved-defied; confute-answer.

ABOU BEN ADHEM

(Leigh Hunt was an English author, who was born in 1784. He wrote several fine poems, among which the best-known are The Glove and the Lions and Abou Ben Adhem. This last poem has been loved and memorized by thousands of people. Will you be one more to learn it by heart? On a monument erected in England to the memory of Leigh Hunt, there is this inscription: "Write me as one that loves his fellow men.")

A

BOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase!)

Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,

And saw, within the moonlight in his room,

Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,

An angel writing in a book of gold:
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,

"What writest thou?"-The vision raised its head,
And, with a look made of all sweet accord,

Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"

Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,

But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow men.'

The angel wrote and vanished. The next night

It came again, with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed,
And, lo, Ben Adhem's name led all the rest!

-Leigh Hunt

Questions: By whom and under what circumstances were these words used: "And the King shall answer and say unto them, verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me"?

Pleasure Reading:

Burt's Poems Every Child Should Know

K

THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS

ING FRANCIS was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport, And one day, as his lions fought, sat looking on the court; The nobles filled the benches, with the ladies in their pride, And 'mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom he sighed :

And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning showValor and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below.

Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws; They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with

their paws;

With wallowing might and stifled roar, they rolled on one another,

Till all the pit, with sand and mane, was in a thunderous smother;

The bloody foam above the bars came whisking through the air; Said Francis, then, "Faith, gentlemen, we're better here than there."

De Lorge's love o'erheard the king, a beauteous, lively dame, With smiling lips and sharp bright eyes, which always seemed

the same;

She thought, "The Count, my lover, is brave as brave can be, He surely would do wondrous things to show his love of me; King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the occasion is divine;

I'll drop my glove, to prove his love; great glory will be mine."

She dropped her glove, to prove his love; then looked at him, and smiled;

He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild:
The leap was quick, return was quick, he soon regained the

place,

Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face.

"By Heaven," cried Francis, "rightly done!" and he rose from where he sat;

"No love," quoth he, "but vanity sets love a task like that." -Leigh Hunt

IN MARCH

(This cheering song of spring was written by William Wordsworth, the author of "Lucy Gray." Wordsworth understood and loved nature as very few poets or writers have.)

Like an army defeated,
The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fare ill

On the top of the bare hill;

The plowboy is whooping-anon-anon.
There's joy in the mountains;
There's life in the fountains;
Small clouds are sailing,

Blue sky prevailing;

The rain is over and gone!