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FROM "ORIENTAL FAIRY TALES.' THERE stood two solitary Columns, the only remains of a Grecian temple, beneath the blue sky of Asia, not far removed from the ruins of an abandoned city, near the sea-shore. From year to year they remained standing, melancholy, motionless, supporting together the misery of decay and their grief for the time that was gone, praying to that God to whom they had once been devoted, to bury them; but he buried them not.

"The Gods are fallen, they hear us no longer; why are we standing still ?"

Ha, ha," laughed proudly the Mountains, "what were your Gods? We have been standing firmer than they."

"Cover us, cover us!" But the Mountains covered them not. "What were your Gods ?" roared the Sea. " 'My voice is loud, but theirs grew silent long ago.'

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Bury us, bury us!" the Columns called, but the Sea buried them

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"Oh, how gloomy the large stone leaves at the top of those Columns are looking!" said the Leaves of a small wild fig-tree, that grew at the foot of the Columns.

"If we only were high enough to reach up to them, we would not fail to cheer them, dancing, balancing, oh, how merrily! we would tell our shades to paint them with green, and to cool them. Would not that be delightful? How strange that they are looking so gloomy!"

"Come up to us, up to us!" said the Columns to the little green babblers, and they began shooting and growing with all their might, but the heads of the Columns were high and unattainable.

At the foot of a hill, near the Columns, a Rivulet glided past, that was always babbling and bragging incredibly, much of his endless business, looking all the while very contemptuously, that the Columns were forced to remain always in the same place; and then ran away in haste.

"Wash off our misery, if you can," the Columns called after it; but the Rivulet could not, and therefore it ran by as fast as it could. So the Columns remained where and what they had been before; but yet they aided each other to carry the burden of misfortune, and to give vent to their grief, till a rich man came from a foreign country, who, admiring their beauty, resolved to carry off one of them.

"Oh, woe to us to be separated!-oh, woe to us, to carry the tale of the fall of our Gods into the lands of the stranger!" they lamented; but they were neither heard nor understood, and became separated. "Farewell!" said the Column that was carried off; "when the Gods that have fallen shall rise again, we shall be reunited."

But when they came to the sea-shore, and the Column should be brought on board a vessel, it fell down in the sea.

Welcome!" sung the dark blue Waves, embracing it with soft and tender arms. "What can we do for thee ?"

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Bury me."

And willingly the Waters buried the beautiful Column, and its grief was silent now.

The sister Column, left alone now, mourned more deeply than ever. "Oh!" said the Leaves of the wild fig-tree, so gloomy the stone leaves never yet have looked."

"Well," babbled the Rivulet, "why are you standing still here alone, instead of running away too? Look here how I do."

The Column listened not; it only looked with fixed gaze to the shore, where it had seen the sister sinking. But every time when the Night-wind came across the sea, and sighed over the shore, it stopped at the solitary Column, softly breathing

They are coming."

The Column then waited patiently, silently.

"Well, who may be coming?" the Green Leaves asked; but nobody told them.

Though from year to year the Night-wind told the same tale, the Column yet listened to it with the same patience; for what are a few years' rising and setting of stars to one that lived thousands of years?

"They are coming!" the Night-wind breathed a long, long time; and at last they came-the messengers sent from the sister on the ground of the sea.

Sand after sand gave way, pebble after pebble rolled down, clod after clod broke off, while years came and went, suffering it to pass, and the first waves kissed the foot of the patient Column. Busily they worked, night and day, washed and splashed, and called

"We lave and we lave, to make you a grave!"

With the tide they rose, to bring the white sister's message,that sister who lay sleeping on a couch, glittering with gold, covered with blue transparent veils. With the tide they sank, to take down the answers of the other that was left on the shore. So it lasted many a day and many a night, but the love of the sisters lasted longer than day and night.

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Alas, alas! the Column is sinking!" called the green babbling Leaves. "The stone leaves seem to stir: what can touch or move their everlasting rest? The ground gives way-do you feel it ?—and our roots become wet. The stone leaves bend down to us more and more. Should they, perhaps, wish to talk to us? How large you are, when seen so near! Do not come so near-not so near; you will crush us. Alas! our bright, our sunny life!"

And now the Column fell with a crash. The Waves had done their work-the ground was undermined; it sank down on the cool ground of the sea, where the sister received it.

"Oh, thanks to you, sister!—it was you who sent the messengers, -you who commanded the Waves to fetch me!"

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'Not I, my sister; it was the Gods."

"So they are living still, whom we had believed to be dead ?"

I hear their voices daily, giving the Waves their commands: they are living still."

The fallen Column had lifted its head, as if trying to behold the Gods above; and now it seemed to the two reunited here, as if they beheld above them the blue sky, and in it the same temple which they once had supported. On the altar stood the same bright God, to

whom they once had served: incense and hymns rose up; but a divine voice came down to them, clear and ringing:

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Why did you doubt and mourn? Mountains will fall,—s will disappear,-temples fall to ruins,—but the life of the Gods will breathe where it lists."

TELL'S BIRTH-PLACE.

MARK this holy chapel well!

The birth-place, this, of William Tell.*
Here, where stands God's altar dread,
Stood his parents' marriage-bed.

Here first, an infant to her breast,
Him his loving mother prest;

COLERIDGE.

And kissed the babe, and bless'd the day,
And pray'd, as mothers use to pray:
"Vouchsafe him health, O God, and give
The child, thy servant, still to live!"
But God had destined to do more
Through him, than through an armed power.

God gave him reverence of laws,

Yet stirring blood in Freedom's cause-
A spirit to his rocks akin,-

The eye of the hawk, and the fire therein!

To Nature and to Holy Writ
Alone did God the boy commit:

Where flashed and roared the torrent, oft
His soul found wings, and soar'd aloft!

The straining oar and chamois' chase
Had formed his limbs to strength and grace:
On wave and wind the boy would toss,
Was great, nor knew how great he was!

He knew not that his chosen hand,
Made strong by God, his native land
Would rescue from the shameful yoke
Of Slavery, the which he broke.

* A celebrated Swiss patriot, who roused his countrymen to throw off the Austrian yoke.

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