now, in childish gayety, hummed some
merry song. The road gradually became
more solitary, and soon neither the joyous
shout of the villager, returning to his cot-
tage home, nor the rough voice of the
carter, grumbling at his lazy horses, was
any longer to be heard. The little fellow
now perceived that the blue of the flowers
in his hand was seareely distinguishable
from the green of the surrounding herb-
age, and he looked up in some dismay.
The night was falling; not, however, a
dark winter night, but one of those beau-
tiful, clear, moonlight nights, in which.
every object is perceptible, though not as
distinctly as by day. The child thought
of his father, of his injunction, and was
preparing to quit the ravine in which he
was almost buried, and to regain the
beach, when suddenly a slight noise, like
the trickling of water upon pebbles, at-
He was near one
of the large sluices, and he now carefully
examines it, and soon discovers.a. hole in
the wood, through. which the. water. was
flowing. With the instamt, perception
which every child in Holland would have,
the boy saw that the water must soon en-
large the hole through which it was now
only dropping, and that’ utter and general
ruin would be the consequence of’ the

tracted his attention.

‘nundation of the country that must fol-
low. To see, to throw away the flowers,
to climb from. stone to stone till he reached
the hole, and: to. put: his finger into: it, was
the work of'a moment and, to his de-
light, he finds that he has succeeded in
stopping the flow of the water.

This was all very well for a little while,
and the child thought only of the success
of his device. But the night was closing
in, and. with the night came the cold.

The little boy: looked around in vain. No

  
  

one came. He shouted—he called loudly
no one answered. He resolved to stay
there all night, but, alas! the cold was
becoming every moment more biting, and
the poor finger fixed in the whole began

to feel benumbed, and the numbness soon
extended to the hand, and thence through-

out the whole arm. The pain became still
greater, still harder to bear, but the boy
moved not. Tears rolled down his cheeks

as he thought of his father, of his mother,

of his little bed, where he might now be
sleeping so soundly; but still the little
fellow stirred not, for he knew that did he

remove the small, slender finger which he

had opposed to the escape of the water,
not only would he himself be drowned,
but his father, his brothers, his neighbors,
nay, the whole village. We know not
what faltering of purpose, what moment-
ary failures of courage there might have
been during that long and terrible night;

‘but certain it is, that at day-break he was

found in the same painful position by a

clergyman returning from attendance on

a.death-hed, who, as he advanced, thought
he heard groans, and, bending over the
dyke, discovered: aichild seated on a stone,
writhing with: pain, and. with pale face
and tearful eyes.

“Tn the name of wonder, boy,” he ex-
claimed, “what are you trying to do
there ?” |

“I am. hindering, the water from run-
ning out,” was the answer, in perfect sim-
plicity, of the child; who, during that
whole night, had been evincing such heroic
fortitude and undaunted courage.

History has handed down to posterity

‘many a warrior, the destroyer of thousands

of his fellow-men—but. she has left us in
ignorance of the name of this real little
hero of Haarlem.—Sharpe’s Magazine.