h the grass at his feet, crept maidens sweet,
To gather the dews of May.
And on that day, to the rebec gay
They frolicked with lovesome swains;
They are gone, they are dead, in the churchyard laid,
But the tree--it still remains.

He saw rare times when the Christmas chimes
Were a merry sound to hear,
When the Squire's wide hall and the cottage small
Were filled with good English cheer.
Now gold hath the sway we all obey,
And a ruthless king is he;
But he never shall send our ancient friend
To be tossed on the stormy sea.

Then here's to the oak, the brave old oak,
Who stands in his pride alone;
And still flourish he, a hale green tree,
When a hundred years are gone.

IX. THE ARTIST SURPRISED. (82)

It may not be known to all the admirers of the genius of Albert Durer,
that that famous engraver was endowed with a "better half," so peevish in
temper, that she was the torment not only of his own life, but also of his
pupils and domestics. Some of the former were cunning enough to purchase
peace for themselves by conciliating the common tyrant, but woe to those
unwilling or unable to offer aught in propitiation. Even the wiser ones
were spared only by having their offenses visited upon a scapegoat.

This unfortunate individual was Samuel Duhobret, a disciple whom Durer had
admitted into his school out of charity. He was employed in painting signs
and the coarser tapestry then used in Germany. He was about forty years of
age, little, ugly, and humpbacked; he was the butt of every ill joke among
his fellow disciples, and was picked out as an object of especial dislike
by Madame Durer. But he bore all with patience, and ate, without
complaint, the scanty crusts given him every day for dinner, while his
companions often fared sumptuously.

Poor Samuel had not a spice of envy or malice in his heart. He would, at
any time, have toiled half the night to assist or serve those who were
wont oftenest to laugh at him, or abuse him loudest for his stupidity.
True, he had not the qualities of social humor or wit, but he was an
example of indefatigable industry. He came to his studies every morning at
daybreak, and remained at work until sunset. Then he retired into his
lonely chamber, and wrought for his own amusement.

Duhobret labored three years in this way, giving himself no time for
exercise or recreation. He said nothing to a single human being of the
paintings he had produced in the solitude of h