10. But, whether from jealousy, or bad management, or treachery, those who guarded the entrance into the city closed the gate, the drawbridge was immediately raised, and Joan was a prisoner. She was delivered over to the English by the Burgundian leader, for a sum of money; and the English, ashamed of having been conquered by a young girl, thought to efface the memory of their defeats by accusing her of witchcraft.

11. Joan asserted her innocence of this cruel charge. "Were I condemned," she said, "were I to behold the fire kindled, the wood prepared, the executioner ready to tie me to the stake, were I even in the midst of the flames, I would say only what I have already said, and maintain it until death. I. submit with resignation to whatever torments you have to inflict. I know not if I have more to suffer; but my trust is in God."

12. Fearing lest she might be torn by the people from their grasp, her cowardly and ever infamous judges condemned her to death. It was on the 31st of May, 1431,. that is to say, when Joan was verging on her twentieth year, that, on a frivolous and wicked charge of her-esy and witchcraft, she was led to the stake in the old market-place at Rouen. Eight hundred English soldiers escorted her.

EI

13. A stupendous pile had been erected. The magistrate commanded the executioner to take Joan, and place her on the pile. The English soldiers, seeing that she spoke with her confessor, lost all patience, and exclaimed, "Do you intend to make us dine here?" They then seized her themselves, and tied her to the stake, at the same time calling upon the executioner to apply his torch from below. He did so, and the flames began to crackle.

14. An intrepid priest was standing by Joan, and he lingered, offering her religious consolation, as the smoke ascended. Even in that dreadful moment, the hero'ic girl seemed to think more of another's safety than of her own mortal anguish so near. She begged the priest to go down, but to continue_" to speak pious words" to her from his station below.

15. The last audible utterance from the lips of Joan was the

sacred name of Jesus. The assistants, unable to restrain their tears, exclaimed, "She is innocent! She is truly a Christian!" A secretary of the English monarch, being present, said, weeping, to one of the judges, "You have ruined us; for they are burning a holy creature, whose soul is in the hands of God." Her ashes were scattered to the winds. Her memory is

"I said to my little son, who was watching, with tears, a tree he had planted, 'Let it alone; it will grow while you are sleeping!''

1. "PLANT it safe, thou little child!

Then cease watching and cease weeping
Thou hast done thy utmost part;
Leave it with a quiet heart,

It will grow while thou art sleeping."

2. "But, O father!" says the child,

With a troubled face, close creeping,
"How can I but think and grieve,
When the fierce winds come at eve,
And snows beat—and I lie sleeping?

3. "I have loved my linden so!

In each leaf seen future floweret:
Watched it day by day with prayers,
Guarded it with pains and cares,

Lest the canker should devour it.

4. "O, good father!" says the child,
"If I come in summer's shining,
And my linden-tree be dead,
How the sun will scorch my head,
Where I sit forlorn and pining!

5. "Rather let me, evermore

Through this winter-time watch keeping,

!

Ay, bear aught but idle sleeping."

6. Sternly said the father, then:

"Who art thou, child, vainly grieving? Canst thou send the balmy dews,

Or the rich sap interfuse,

That one leaf shall burst to leafing?

7. "Canst thou bid the heavens restrain
Natural tempests for thy praying?
Canst thou bend one tender shoot?
Stay the growth of one frail root?
Keep one blossom from decaying?

8. "Plant it; consecrate with prayers;
It is safe 'neath His18 sky's folding
Who the whole earth compasses,
Whether we watch more or less-

His large eye all things beholding."

9. If his hope, tear-sown, that child
Garnered safe with joyful reaping,

Know I not; yet, unawares,

Oft this truth gleams through my prayers,
"It will grow while thou art sleeping!"

Cousin Mary. MORE breezes? What terrible thing has hap-pened now, Cousin Grim? What's the matter?

Grim. Matter enough, I should think! I sent this stupid fellow to bring me a pair of boots from the closet; and he has brought me two rights, instead of a right and left.

Cousin. What a serious calamity! But perhaps he thought it was but right to leave the left.

* See the Exercises under the eighteenth elementary sound, page 38.

Grim. None of your jokes, if you please! This is nothing to laugh at.

Cousin. So it would seem, from the expression on your face; - rather something to storm at, roar at, and fall into a frenzy about.

Michael. That's right, miss; give him a piece of your mind! He's the crossest little man I have met with in the new country. You might scrape old Ireland with a fine-tooth comb, and not find such another.

Grim. How dare you, you rascal! - how dare you talk to me in that style? I'll discharge you, this very day!

Michael. I'm thinking of discharging you, if you don't take better care of that sweet temper of

yours.

Grim. Leave the room, sir! Michael. That I will, in search of better company, saving the lady's presence. [Exit. Grim. There, cousin! there is a specimen of my provocations! Can you wonder at my losing my temper?

Cousin. Cousin Grim, that would be the most fortunate thing that could befall you.

Grim. What do you mean?

Cousin. I mean, if you could only lose that temper of yours, it would be a blessed thing for you; though I should pity the poor fellow who found it.

Grim. You are growing satirical, in your old age, Cousin Mary.

Cousin. Cousin Grim, hear the plain truth: your ill temper makes you a nuisance to yourself and everybody about you.

Grim. Really, Miss Mary Somerville, you are getting to be complimentary!

Cousin. No, I am getting to be candid. I have passed a week in your house, on your invitation. I leave you this afternoon; but before I go I mean to speak my mind.

Grim. It seems to me that you have spoken it rather freely already.

Cousin. What was there, in the circumstance of poor Michael's bringing the wrong boots, to justify your flying into a rage, and bellowing as if your life had been threatened?

Grim. That fellow is perpetually making just such provoking blunders !

Cousin. And do you never make provoking blunders? Did n't you send me five pounds of Hyson tea, when I wrote for Souchong? Didn't you send a carriage for me to the cars half an hour too late, so that I had to hire one myself, after great trouble? And did I roar at you, when we met, because you had done these things?

Grim. On the contrary, this is the first time you have alluded to them. I am sorry they should have happened. But surely you should make a distinction between any such little oversight of mine and the stupidity of a servant, hired to attend to your orders.

Cousin. I do not admit that there should be a distinction. You are both human; only, as you have had the better education, and the greater advantages, stupidity or neglect on your part is much the more culpable.

Grim. Thank you! Go on.

Cousin. I mean to; so don't be impatient. If an uncooked potato, or a burnt mutton-chop, happens to fall to your lot at the dinner-table, what a tempest follows! One would think you had been wronged, insulted, trampled on, driven to despair. Your face is like a thunder-cloud, all the rest of the meal. Your poor wife endeavors to hide her tears. Your children feel timid and miserable. Your guest feels as if she would like to see you held under the nose of the pump, and thoroughly ducked.

Grim. The carriage is waiting for you, Miss Somerville, and the driver has put on your baggage.

Cousin. I have hired that carriage by the hour, and so am in no hurry. Your excuse for your irritability will be, I suppose, that it is constitutional, and not to be controlled. A selfish, paltry, miserable excuse! I have turned down a leaf in Dr. Johnson's works, and will read what he says in regard to tempers like yours.

Grim. You are always quoting Dr. Johnson! Cousin, I cannot endure it! Dr. Johnson is a bore!

* See Exercises under the eleventh elementary sound, page 37.