Give the old lady's skirts a genteel spread;
Slope well the shoulders, so as to shed
The autumn rain

From the unhusked grain,

Then twist a wisp for the queer little head.

There she is, waiting to be embraced!
Reach round her who can?

'T will take a man

And a boy, at least, to clasp her waist!
Was ever a hug like that? Now draw
Tightly the girdle of good oat-straw!
With the plumpest waist

That ever was laced,

Goes the narrowest nightcap ever you saw.

We bind the corn, and leave it snug,

Or rest in the shade

Of the shocks we have made,

To eat our luncheon, and drink from the jug.
The children come bringing the bands, or play
Hide-and-go-seek in the corn all day,

And now and then race

With a chipmonk, or chase

A scared little field-mouse scampering away.

All day we cut and bind; till at night, —
Where a field of corn in
The misty morning

Waved, in the level September light,-
All over the shadowy stubble-land,
The stooks, like Indian wigwams, stand.
Compact and secure,

There leave them to cure,

Till the merry husking-time is at hand.

Then the fodder will be to stack or to house,
And the ears to husk.

But now the dusk

Falls soft as the shadows of cool pine-boughs;
Our good day's work is done; the night
Brings wholesome fatigue and appetite;
Up comes the balloon

Of the huge red moon,

And home we go, singing gay songs by its light.

7. T. Trowbridge.

THE WHITE HOODS OF GHENT.

THE pressure of the feudal system, which bore heavily upon all classes

in the Middle Ages, crushed even the semblance of liberty out of the common people. The peasant was the bond-slave of the gentleman, compelled to plough the lands, harvest the crops, thrash and winnow the grain, and do other menial service for his master, with no other reward than the right to live on the estate from which he dared not escape. The noble treated the peasant as a mere beast, deserving no reward for service done, and to be beaten or robbed with impunity.

Towards the end of the fourteenth century, the dissatisfaction of the peasantry with their oppressed condition found vent in murmuring, and at length in open rebellion. Ballads were sung by the people, one of which asked, —

"When Adam delved and Eve span,

Who then was the gentleman?"

John Ball, an English priest, preached every Sunday to crowds in the open air that slavery was wrong, and that the people should unite to free themselves from bondage. His words were repeated from mouth to mouth all over England, until, under the lead of John Ball, Jack Straw, and Wat Tyler, they rose in rebellion, marched to London, and overawed the King himself; but, discouraged and dispersed by the death of their principal leader, they were made to suffer still greater hardships as a punishment for their rash attempt to gain freedom.

In France, not only the peasantry, but the citizens of Paris, rose in rebellion against the cruelties and exactions of the King and nobles. Several times the Jacquerie, as the rebels were derisively styled, revolted, and sought to exterminate the nobles, but always without success.

In Flanders, the revolt was more successful, because not only the poor people and the ordinary citizens, but the richer burghers, took part in the struggle against the nobility. Here the contest was carried on for many years, and although at last the citizens failed to subdue the nobility, they succeeded in wresting from them important privileges which were never after surrendered.

The chief cities of Flanders were Ghent and Bruges, both places of much trade and consequent wealth. Under the feudal system, cities were allowed especial privileges, which were jealously maintained by the citizens. With their increasing wealth and importance, additional privileges were claimed, and sometimes allowed. The people of Ghent had manifested such tendency towards complete freedom, that their sovereign, the Earl of Flanders, deemed it prudent to check them. He not only refused their demands for greater privileges, but trespassed on those they had long enjoyed. They remon strated, but their remonstrances met with contemptuous answers, and those who complained were treated with great harshness. Alarmed at the disposition of their sovereign, and discovering the steps he had already taken for

striking a blow, not only at their freedom, but at their commerce, the Ghentese gathered in council, resolved to withstand the aggressions on their privileges, assumed white hoods as a badge of union, and chose a leader. The Earl thereupon sent an insulting message, demanding that the white hoods should be laid aside, and the people cease their opposition to his pleasure, — following his message by an attempt to seize and kill the popular leaders. The White Hoods, learning his intention, at once commenced war. The surrounding nobility, indignant at this defiance of one of their order by the common people, assisted the Earl, whilst the citizens of some other towns joined the Ghentese. Thus the peasantry of England, the commonalty of France, and the merchants, tradesmen, and mechanics of Flanders, were at one and the same time warring against their sovereigns and feudal superiors. Nobles had frequently warred against their sovereigns, but at last the hitherto despised or unthought-of common people had risen against both kings and nobles.

Long and tedious was the struggle between the Flemish people and their lords, and varying the course of victory. But at last the well-appointed forces of the nobles, trained in the art of war, pressed the unskilled citizens sorely, and town after town was subdued, until Ghent alone remained unconquered. Even the Ghentese were discouraged. The White Hoods held a last council in the market-place, to decide whether to carry on the war, or submit to the cruel mercies of the Earl.

Whilst the great council of the people was holding in the market-place, in a modest house in a quiet quarter of the city a young man was pacing thoughtfully to and fro. The book he had been studying lay open on the massive table, at one end of which sat a venerable woman, anxiously watching the young man's movements. The two were Philip van Artevelde and his mother, - the son and widow of that Van Artevelde who, many years before, had led the Ghentese against their tyrannical ruler, won freedom, and been murdered by the men to whom he had given liberty.

"Son, much study disquiets thee," said the mother, laying her hand on the book. "What hast thou been reading?”

"It is not that, mother," said Philip, stopping suddenly, and looking anxiously towards the window. "Hark! dost thou hear nothing?"

"Not a sound. What should I hear?"

"Listen, mother. The people of Ghent have been driven within their walls by the cruel Louis. The White Hoods are beaten and discouraged. The Earl swears a cruel vengeance on them, on us all. The people meet to-day in the market-place- Hark! Surely I heard a shout. Should they remember what Jacob van Artevelde did for them—"

"Let them remember what they did for him," broke in the widow, her face darkening with the recollection. "He gave them freedom, and for it they slew him in his own house. There is the token of their gratitude on his own hearthstone."

Philip glanced at a dark stain on the paved floor, and turns across the room, with bent head and folded arms.

took two or three Stopping in front

of the wall on which hung the heavy sword of Jacob van Artevelde, Philip contemplated it thoughtfully. "Peter den Bosch-" he commenced with hesitation.

"Ay, I thought his mission here boded no good. He has put an end to thy studies and to my quiet life. Their ingratitude reft me of a husband, and now they seek the life of my son."

"But Louis of Flanders will visit the deeds of the father upon the head of his son. Should he, proud and cruel, enter Ghent, there will be another stain upon the hearthstone."

At that moment came a knock at the door. Philip hastened to open it, and Peter den Bosch, followed by a dozen of the leading men of Ghent, entered. Philip drew back, pale, agitated, and anxiously awaiting their message. It was soon told. At the meeting in the market-place, when all was doubt and discouragement, Peter den Bosch addressed the people. After recounting the many public services, and praising the valor and wisdom, of Jacob van Artevelde, who, were he then alive, would have saved the city, he announced that the son of their former leader dwelt in retirement among them, that he inherited the wisdom and valor of his father, and that to him alone could the people look for the needed leader. No sooner was his name announced, than all the people set up a great shout. A deputation, headed by Peter den Bosch, was appointed to seek him out, and offer him the gov ernment of the city. In the execution of that commission they had come.

With glistening eyes, Philip advanced to accept the trust offered him, when his foot stepped on the slab stained with his father's blood. He drew back in sudden distrust.

"My father was your leader, and you killed him."

And, to make amends, we offer the leadership to his son," said Peter den Bosch.

"And I accept it!" said Van Artevelde, taking down his father's sword from the wall. "Mother, I go to save Ghent in my father's name."

"And, I fear, to meet thy father's fate. But the will of God be done. All I have is now given to my country, and my work on earth is done."

Philip hastily embraced his mother, and accompanied the committee to the market-place. Thither most of the people had flocked, and were anxiously awaiting the return of the deputies. At last they appeared at a window of the town hall, followed by a young man who was presented to the people as Philip van Artevelde, son of the good Jacob, who was, like his father, to be the deliverer of Ghent. A tremendous shout arose from the crowd. With one voice they cried, "Give us Van Artevelde for our leader!" Then one by one the great men of the city swore submission to their new ruler. With a tremendous shout, the people also swore to obey him faithfully. Then the crowd slowly returned to their homes, having full faith that relief would now come through the wisdom and valor of their new ruler.

Scarcely had Philip become governor of the city, and assumed command of the White Hoods, when stirring news came. The Earl of Flanders had summoned a great army, and was marching to besiege his rebellious subjects.