―――― It is pleasant to some persons to give; but if one gives only to gratify himself, he is merely selfish, and can claim no praise. [For Merry’s Museum.] THE LITTLE SOLDIER. (Concluded.) MR. MERRY: Your young readers will remember, I hope, that they left our “little soldier” at the commencement of his journey homewards. Weak and faint from his long confinement in the hospital, without money, and with the sad prospect of two hundred miles on foot before him, it seemed impossible to him that he could ever accomplish the journey. But “home,” that blessed word, at mention of which, “the _sailor_, clinging to the dripping yard-arm,” feels a glow of rapture, filled the heart of the _soldier_ with hope, and he proceeded on. Children of the present day, cannot imagine the change which has been made in the country since that period. What was at that time a “wilderness,” has now become a “fruitful field;” and where our tired soldiers at the close of the day sheltered themselves beneath some large tree, may now be seen the splendid hotel, inviting the traveller to comfort and rest. Then, too, at the nightfall, where _our_ two friends heard only the mournful note of the “whip-poor-will,” may now be heard the shrill whistle of the locomotive, as it scuds over mountain and valley with the speed of thought. I cannot take time to give the details of adventures which cheered and discouraged our friends from day to day. They found great difficulty in supplying themselves with food; and I think it was in some lonely place, on this journey, that the sick soldier was fortunate enough to catch a young woodpecker, and he said nothing could be more delicious than the little bird. He pulled out the feathers, and ate it _just as it was_! He said it was meat and drink too, for the blood was warm! If I am not mistaken, it was three or four weeks after they left New York, that the two friends reached a village, called Farmington, in the State of Connecticut. They had been a long time coming a short distance, as the strength of the little soldier had been gradually failing during the journey thus far. Just at dark, after a day of great suffering from exhaustion and fatigue, they came to a house which stood on an eminence rather difficult of ascent. Here, the poor fellow’s courage failed, and he said to his companion, “Let me stop at the foot of this hill and _die_. I can never reach the house,”――and he sank upon the ground, entirely overcome. His companion, however, had strong confidence that if he could have food and rest, he would soon be restored. He accordingly went to the door of the house, which was