During several successive nights the same performance was repeated on both sides; each kept adding to his brother's store; and on each successive morning both were surprised to find that the stacks remained the same. 7. But one night, both having stood sentry to dive into the cause of this miracle, they met, each bearing the sheaves mutually destined for the other. It was thus all explained, and they rushed into each other's arms, each grateful to heaven for having so good a brother. CIX. THE BEEF LAWSUIT. 1. During the distress of the American army, caused by the invasion of Cornwallis and Phillips in 1781, Mr. Venable, an army commissioner, took, two steers for the use of the troops from Mr. Hook, a Scotchman and a man of wealth, who was suspected of being unfriendly to the American cause. 2. The act was not strictly legal; and after the war had closed, Hook, by the advice of one Mr. Cowan, a lawyer of some distinction, thought proper to bring an action for trespass against Mr. Venable. 3. Patrick Henry appeared for the defendant; and he is said to have contributed much to the enjoyment of his hearers. At one time he excited their indignation against Hook, and vengeance was visible in every countenance; again, when he chose to ridicule him, the whole audience was in a roar of laughter. 4. He painted the distress of the American army, exposed almost naked to the cold of a winter sky, and marking the frozen ground over which they marched with the blood of their unshod feet. "Where was the man," said he, "who had an American bosom, who would not have thrown open his fields, his barns, his cellars, the doors of his house, the portals of his breast, to receive with outspread arms the meanest soldier in that little band of starving patriots? 5. "Where is the man? There he stands! But whether the heart of an American beats in his bosom, you, gentlemen, are to judge." He then carried the jury by the power of his imagination to the plains of Yorktown; the surrender of which had followed shortly after the act complained of. 6. He painted the surrender in the most glowing and noble colors of his eloquence. The audience saw before their eyes the humbled and dejected British as they marched out of their trenches; they saw the triumph which lighted up every patriotic face; they heard the shout of "Victory!" the cry of "Washington and liberty!" as it rung and echoed through the American ranks, and was re-echoed from the hills, and from the shores of the neighboring river. 7. "But hark!" continued Henry, "what notes of discord are these which disturb the general joy, and silence the acclamations of victory? They are the notes of John Hook, hoarsely bawling through the American camp, 'Beef! beef! beef!"" The court was convulsed with laughter. The jury retired, and, we need scarcely say, John Hook lost his case. CX. THE BEGGAR'S PETITION. 1. Pity the sorrows of a poor old man, Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span: 2. These tattered clothes my poverty bespeak; 3. Yon house, erected on the rising ground, 4. Hard is the fate of the infirm and poor! 5. O! take me to your hospitable home; Keen blows the wind, and piercing is the cold! 6. Should I reveal the sources of my grief, If soft humanity e'er touched your breast, 7. Heaven sends misfortunes; why should we repine? 8. A little farm was my paternal lot; Then, like the lark, I sprightly hailed the morn; But ah! oppression forced me from my cot, My cattle died, and blighted was my corn. 9. My tender wife, sweet soother of my care, Struck with sad anguish at the stern decree, Fell, lingering fell, a victim to despair; And left the world to wretchedness and me. 10. Pity the sorrows of a poor old man, Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span: CXI.-WASHINGTON AND THE POOR WIDOW. 1. "It must be, my child," said the poor widow, wiping away the tears which slowly trickled down her wasted cheeks."There is no other resource. I am too sick to work, and you can not, surely, see me and your little brother starve. Try and beg a few dimes, and perhaps, by the time that is gone, I may be better. Go, Henry, my dear. I grieve to send you on such an errand, but it must be done." 2. The boy a noble-looking little fellow of about ten years started up, and, after throwing his arms around his mother's neck, left the house without a word. He did not hear the groan of anguish that was uttered by his parent as the door closed behind him; and it was well that he did not, for his little heart was ready to burst without it. 3. It was a by-street in Philadelphia, and, as he walked to and fro on the sidewalk he looked first at one person and then at another, as they passed him; but no one seemed to look kindly on him, and the longer he waited, the faster his courage dwindled away, and the more difficult it became to muster resolution to beg. The tears were running fast down his cheeks; but nobody noticed them, or if they did, nobody seemed to care; for, although clean, Henry looked poor and miserable, and it is common for the poor and miserable to cry. 4. Everybody seemed in a hurry, and the poor boy was quite in despair, when, at last, he espied a gentleman leisurely taking a morning walk. He was dressed in black, wore a three-cornered hat, and had a pleasant countenance. When Henry looked at him, he felt all his fears vanish at once, and he instantly approached him. 5. His tears had been flowing so long that his eyes were quite red and swollen, and his voice trembled; but that was with weakness, for he had not eaten for twentyfour hours. As Henry, with a low, faltering voice, begged for a little charity, the gentleman stopped; and his kind heart melted with compassion as he looked into the fair countenance of the poor boy, and saw the deep blush which spread over his face, and listened to the modest, humble tones which accompanied his petition. 6. "You do not look like a boy that has been accustomed to beg his bread," said he, kindly laying his hand on the boy's shoulder; "what has driven you to this step?" 7. "Indeed," answered Henry, his tears beginning to flow afresh,"indeed, I was not born in this condition. But the misfortunes of my father, and the sickness of my mother, have driven me to the necessity now." 8. "Who is your father?" inquired the gentleman, still more interested. 9. "My father was a rich merchant of this city; but he became bondsman for a friend, who soon after failed, and he was entirely ruined. He could not live long after this loss, and in one month he died of grief; and his death was more dreadful than any of our troubles. My mother, my little brother, and myself, soon sunk into the lowest depths of poverty. 66 10. My mother has, until now, managed to support herself and my little brother by her labor, and I have |