Curmudgeon, n. s. [It is a vicious manner of pronouncing cœur méchant, Fr. An unknown correspondent.]"

"Now here is Ash's Dictionary," cried Lucy; "I will look for it; I am quite awake now, mamma. But stay; first, Harry, tell us what you think is meant by Fr. An unknown correspondent."

"Fr. means French, to be sure," said Harry ; "and an unknown correspondent sent Johnson this derivation I suppose."

Is

"You suppose perfectly right," said Lucy; "but now look how Dr. Ash understood, or misunderstood it, for want of knowing the meaning of the two French words. Here it is.

"Curmudgeon, noun sub. from the French, cœur, unknown; méchant, correspondent.'" "Excellent!" cried Harry, laughing; "let me see it."

"Oh, mamma, can you tell us any more of such droll mistakes?" said Lucy; " I dare say there are a great many more, if one could but find them; and I should like to make a list of them all."

"To shame the poor dictionary makers," said Harry. "But that would be very ungrateful of you, after all, Lucy; for consider how often dictionaries have helped us when we were in difficulties; and how much amuse

ment we have had from Johnson's quotations."

"In the great Johnson; oh! I acknowledged that at first," said Lucy; " and you forget this curmudgeon mistake was not your dear great or little Johnson's, so I am not ungrateful."

"But you know you triumphed over him, when you had him caught in your net-work," said Harry.

"Because of his hard words," said Lucy.

66

Lucy," said her father, "did you ever hear the fable of Apollo and the critic?"

"No, papa; pray tell it to me," said Lucy; "I love fables."

"Are you awake enough to hear and understand it?" said her father.

Yes, papa, perfectly; wide awake: curmudgeon and the munching cur have wakened me completely."

"There was a famous critic, who read a famous poem for the express purpose of finding out all its faults; and when he had found them, and made a list of them, he carried his list and his notes to Apollo. Apollo ordered that a bushel of the finest wheat that had ever grown on Mount Parnassus should be brought; and he ordered that it should be winnowed with the utmost care; and, when all the corn was separated from the chaff, Apollo presented the chaff

to the critic for his reward, and banished him for ever from Parnassus."

"Thank you, papa," said Lucy; "I understand the moral of that fable very well; and I think I had better banish myself to bed now. Good night, Harry; I hope it will be a fine day to-morrow."

TRIALS OF PATIENCE.

It was a fine day; all the dark clouds had disappeared, and left the sky clear blue. The sandy soil had dried so quickly, that Harry and Lucy flattered themselves that their mother would walk out this morning, and they ran to prepare her seat beyond the bridge.

But, oh! disappointment extreme! oh! melancholy sight! The bridge was no more: nothing remained of the arch but some fragments, over which the waters were rushing. The mountain stream, which had been swelled by the rains to a torrent, had not yet sunk to its natural quiet state; but was dashing down the rock with deafening noise.

Harry stood motionless, looking at it.

"I do not hear you, my dear," said he, as Lucy twitched his arm to obtain an answer. "What do you say ?"

"Come a little further away from this noise," said Lucy. "I say that I am exceedingly sorry

for you, Harry."

"Thank you," said Harry; "so am I sorry for myself, but sorrow will do no good."

"How could it happen, when you took such care about the butments?" asked Lucy.

"I did not take care enough," said Harry, "that much is clear; but it is not clear to me how it all happened, or why. The water covers every thing now; it runs, you see, over the banks beyond my foundations. We must have patience."

Oh, how hard it is to have patience sometimes!" said Lucy, with a deep sigh.

Harry could not forbear echoing her sigh, though he passed it off with a hem immediately, thinking it was not manly. He was determined to bear his disappointment like a man, but hẹ could not help feeling it.

In the evening, when the waters had subsided, they revisited the place of their misfortune. While Harry surveyed the ruins below, and examined into the cause of the disaster, Lucy stood on the bank, looking alternately at his countenance and at the fragments of the fallen bridge, in all the respectful silence of sympathy.".

3

I see now how it happened," said Harry. "Though I made my butments strong enough, I did not go down to the solid rock for my foundations. I built them on the bank, which I thought at the time was firm enough."