My father read this holy book

To brothers, sisters dear

How calm was my poor mother's look,
Who learned God's word to hear!

Her angel face-I see it yet!

What thronging memories come!
Again that little group is met
Within the halls of home!

Thou truest friend man ever knew,

Thy constancy I've tried;

When all were false, I found thee true,

My counsellor and guide.

The mines of earth no treasures give
That could this volume buy;

In teaching me the way to live,
It taught me how to die.

THE POACHERS.

"THEY have no more exclusive right to them, than they have to the air or water!" was the energetic declaration of James Maxwell; a sturdy farmer, bringing down at the same time his fist with a loud noise upon the table, before which he was sitting. His auditors were some half a dozen heartylooking fellows lounging in an obscure ale-house on the borders of Wareham forest,.

“I never did, and never will respect the game laws," said one of these, responding to the first speaker. "Their existence is an outrage upon the free yeomanry of England." "And yet they are laws," remarked a third, in a quiet, meaning tone.

"Laws! yes, they are laws, and disgraceful ones too!" responded the individual we have called James Maxwell. "But, law, or no law, I'm determined to shoot a hare or pheasant just as often as I please. It makes my blood boil to think that, in good old England, honest men such as we-the bone and muscle of the country-are to be ridden over by sprigs of nobility, and 'born gentlemen.' My palate can enjoy a bit of wild game as keenly as theirs; and I'll secure the gratification whenever I meet an opportunity."

"If you'll take an old friend's advice," said Colin Jones, the individual whose remark had excited still further Maxwell's indignation against the game laws, " you will think as little about these unjust laws as possible. You cannot change them, and, in open opposition, you run a risk too great for one who has so much to lose."

"I never have seen, and never expect to see, the day when any fear of consequences can deter me from opposing the wrong!"

"If you had the hope of doing any good by your opposition, there might be some excuse, but you know, Maxwell, there is none. On the other hand, a trip to Botany Bay is rather a serious consideration."

"You always were a chicken-hearted kind of a fellow, Colin," said Maxwell, laughing. "But I am made of differ

ent stuff; I like a little adventure, and where opposition to injustice is connected with it, the whole affair has for me double attractions. What do you say, boys, to an expedition this very night?" he added, glancing round upon the group.

66

I say agreed," responded one, and

"Agreed-agreed"-heartily chimed in two or three others, just such thriftless fellows as Watts must have had in his eye, when he wrote

"For Satan finds some mischief still,

For idle hands to do."

A game at poaching was to them no new thing. And, indeed, had the truth been known, it would have appeared that few lords in the land tasted wild fowl, or even venison oftener than they. Many a narrow chance had they run, and more than one severe struggle with the game-keepers had added zest to their adventures in this line.

One of them, named Winder, was an under-tenant of Maxwell's, and much attached to him for his generosity. He loved a little sport, too, and was always ready to follow where the other led.

Two or three years earlier than the period at which our story opens, the farm of James Maxwell was noted throughout the neighbourhood, as being in the highest state of cultivation, and himself as one of the most industrious and successful farmers. But a gradual, and now very apparent change had taken place, until it had become obvious to all, that everything around him was fast losing its former air of thrift. Almost every evening he was to be found at the ale-house, and too frequently half of his time through the day was spent at the same place. No wonder, then, that a change had come over all things under his supervision. But the saddest change of all was that which had passed upon his still young and lovely wife. With an instinctive fear of the ultimate consequences, she had silently noted her husband's gradual and increasing neglect of his

duties, and had felt more and more keenly every day, his too frequent desertion of her for idle company in the forest. But she uttered not a murmuring word, nor even looked a rebuke. Fondly she hoped to win him back by a tenderer exhibition of the pure and fervent love which she bore him. But day after day, and week after week, she looked and longed in vain, to see him turn with interest to his duties, and his love. Sometimes, indeed, he would seem to become painfully conscious of the gradual decay that was passing upon all things around him, and would devote himself for a few days, or a few weeks, steadily to his farm; but there always followed a relapse into his too strongly fixed habits of idleness aud tippling, a relapse the more confirmed from the temporary re-action of better principles. At the time of his introduction to the reader, he was just beginning to experience, in some trifling degree, the effects of his idle habits, in small pecuniary embarrassments. But, as his fall crop was now nearly ready for market, these were of so temporary a nature, that he scarcely felt them to be troublesome.

"Come, Colin, make one of our company," he said, after the response of those who so readily agreed to join him in a a poaching expedition. "There is no harm in it, and it is precious sport."

"No harm in breaking the law, James?" was Colin's reply, made in a tone of surprise.

"The law is founded in selfish injustice, and therefore I can see no moral guilt in evading, or in openly violating it. If a law should be passed declaring that no one but the nobility should drink water from the gushing spring, or breathe the pure air of heaven, do you think it would be wrong to violate that law? You are a weak reasoner, Colin."

"Just or unjust, it is the law of the land," Colin replied calmly, "and whoever violates that law merely for the sake of opposing it, or for a momentary selfish gratification, is guilty of a moral wrong. That the game laws are wrong, I can see as plainly as you can; but then, they are established as the laws of the land for the purpose of securing to the privileged orders, sport and luxury, and do not very seriously oppress any. The injury exists then, more in the establishment of a principle of exclusiveness and oppression, than in an actual and serious injury done to any portion of the community."

"It is wrong, then, by your own showing, Colin, and I say it is always right to oppose wrong!" Maxwell replied with an emphatic blow upon the table.

"Your

"Do not deceive yourself," resumed his friend. reasoning is altogether fallacious. The corn laws are far more unjust than those alluded to; yet surely, you would not think it right to break into the public stores and seize upon the wheat lying there in waiting for a reduction of duty? Excise laws are also thought and felt to be oppressive, but you never think of evading them, because you have a consciousness that to do so would be wroug. Equally wrong, let me assure you, it is in the other case. Your violation of them can in no way abate the evil. It is adding nothing to that power of public opinion which alone can reform such legal abuses of human rights, for you break the laws in a spirit of opposition merely because you think them unjust. Besides this, there is not a single law of the land which some one does not think wrong or oppressive. If all opposed, how soon would anarchy reign throughout the country. Depend upon it, James, it is wrong to bring individual disobedience against any legal enactment.”

"But the game laws are not only unjust, but inhumanly oppressive," urged Maxwell, more seriously. "The birds that subsist on seeds, and the animals that live without lessening the farmer's harvest, cost no land-owner anything. Their flesh should then, by a law of nature, be the free food of all. But how is it? The poor and hungry, who need these, dare not touch them. If a hare pass a poor man's cottage door, and he have, at the time, no food for his children, he must not kill it. And why? The sports of the idle privileged classes would be interfered with. Colin! it is an outrage upon humanity, and while I have life and strength I will resist it!"

"Maxwell is right," broke in one of the idlers we have alluded to; "and here is my hand to sustain him through thick and thin. What care I for game-keepers? While I have a good piece, and a finger that can move a trigger, I defy them !"

"And here is my hand," said another. "Maxwell is of the true Briton blood, and I like him. Give us a few more such spirits, say. I."

Perceiving that it would be useless to urge his old friend farther at that time, Colin Jones said no more, and soon left the company, and turned homewards, with a feeling of deeper regret than usual at Maxwell's infatuation.

I fear for the end of all this," Colin said, mentally, as he walked slowly along. "The time was, when James Maxwell cherished higher principles of action. But, where may