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gers on the highway.' I will take him to mine own house. Make way there-bear him to a gondola- softly, softly. Thank you, good friends all. The youth shall be taken care of-the work of some bravo I suppose." With these words the leech ordered the gondola-for he had already embarked his insensible patient-to make all haste for his house. The man promised to obey. But the leech's house was at some distance, and the great clock struck twelve as they stopped at its portal. The leech ordered the insensible body to be carried in, and then followed it himself. (To be continued .)

THE MOTHER. A MOTHER'S heart alone can know The lowest depth of human woe ; A mother's heart alone can feel The highest bliss of human weal. If in a world of hate and pain, Something divine doth yet remain, Something by God, in mercy given, To teach the soul there is a heaven Devoid of selfishness and sin, It lives a mother's breast within.

Is there a passion free from guile, A love that man cannot defile? "Tis the true love a mother bears The helpless object of her cares. In happiness, as in distress, A mother knows not selfishness ; Her babe is more than Heaven to her And cheerfully will she incur (And God will pardon, doth she err) Reproof and scorn for its dear sake, Submit to be condemn'd, reviled, To save from misery the child, Naught, naught in life can tempt her to forsake.

THE ARTIST'S TRIUMPHI. It was about twilight, when, in the refectory of the Dominican convent at Milan, might have been seen a man, apparently in the meridian of his days, with a high forehead, regular features and calm dark eyes. He was seated before a large, unfinished picture, with his head leaning on his hand and gazing thoughtfully on the canvass. Suddenly he sighed, and then rising paced the apartment quickly.

"Yes," said he at length ; " six months have passed since I commenced this picture. To-morrow the Duke comes ; and the head of Judas is still unfinished . It must be completed ," he resumed after a pause, "it must be finished to-night. If not I am ruined. My patron will dismiss me and then the triumph of my tormentor will be complete. How long and how painfully have I studied to give a proper expression to Judas and yet I have not succeeded." He sat down and sketching the head again, sighed despairingly and then erased it. No sooner had he done this, than the door opened and a tall and athletic man entered the apartment. He was the Prior ofthe convent. A smile of triumph played on his features, as he walked up to the artist. "Leonardo Da Vinci," said he, " my triumph is complete your work will not be finished to-morrow, and you will be dismissed from the Duke's service, which will be your just reward," and he laughed loud and scornfully. Leonardo fixed his dark eyes calmly upon the speaker and eyed him with an artist's vision. At length he replied, "And who, but you who have every day interrupted me, has detained me ?" "Senor Da Vinci," said the prior ironically, " I congratulate you on the Duke's favor, when I have given an account of your punctuality." " I can assure you I shall not lose it," replied Leonardo. The prior laughed aloud and quitted the apartment. "Yes," repeated he, " I shall not lose it." He took up his pencil and in a quarter of an hour, cried out in an ecstacy of joy, " I have it now ! I have it !" The hours flew by, and the picture was finished at day-break. "Now," said Leonardo, as he lowered a curtain before his great work, " now for my triumph." "Well," said the Duke, walking up and giving Leonardo a friendly shake of the hand, " you have truly had a short time, but so small the more honor. But I forget, gentlemen," said he to the persons present, " allow me to introduce you to Senor Leonardo Da Vinci, of whose skill you all have heard. Da Vinci bowed. Then turning round, the Duke said “ remove the curtain." Leonardo stood pale and immovable, and the prior, confident from the artist's manner that the work was unfinished, pulled aside the curtain, when the complete picture was exposed to view. A murmur of applause ran through the crowd, and all eyes were fixed on the prior and Judas. "It is he! it is he !" they exclaimed ; and to the monk's confusion, he beheld his own portrait on the shoulders of Judas. Leonardo was silent : his triumph was complete.