THE RED-BREAST 



Thomas Carlyle used to be fond of rclatino- 

 that in the beginning of his career he had 

 been obUged to hve a long time in the tur- 

 moil of a big city, where he had met with 

 nothing but annoyance. One day, as he Avas 

 coming home, morally worn out and discour- 

 -- ;r aged, he suddenly heard a band of larks send- 



ing up their joyous strain from the corn-fields, just as 

 he had formerly heard them chirp in his father's farms: 

 this unexpected music then cheered him greatly and gave 

 him new courage to figlit th(^ battle of life. 



This evening, I have had a similar emotion, sweet and 

 yet melancholy, while 1 was listening to the song of the 



