THE FORGING OF THE ANCHOR.

SAMUEL FERGUSON..

Come, see the Dolphin's anchor forged,-'tis at a white heat

now:

The bellows ceased, the flames decreased; though on the forge's brow

The little flames still fitfully play through the sable mound; And fitfully you still may see the grim smiths ranking round, All clad in leathern panoply, their broad hands only bareSome rest upon their sledges here, some work the windlass there.

The windlass strains the tackle chains, the black mound heaves below,

And red and deep a hundred veins burst out at every throe; It rises, roars, rends all outright-O Vulcan, what a glow! "Tis blinding white, 'tis blasting bright, the high sun shines not so!

The high sun sees not, on the earth, such fiery, fearful show,— The roof-ribs swarth, the candent earth, the ruddy lurid row Of smiths that stand, an ardent band, like men before the foe.

As, quivering through his fleece of flame, the sailing monster, slow

Sinks on the anvil,--all about the faces fiery grow,

"Hurrah!" they shout, "leap out-leap out!" bang, bang, the sledges go:

Hurrah! the jetted lightnings are hissing high and low,— A hailing fount of fire is struck at every squashing blow : The leathern mail rebounds the hail, the rattling cinders

strow

The ground around: at every bound the sweltering fountains flow,

And thick and loud the swinking crowd at every stroke pant "ho!"

Leap out, leap out, my masters; leap out and lay on load!
Let's forge a goodly anchor,—a bower thick and broad;
For a heart of oak is hanging on every blow, I bode,
And I see the good ship riding, all in a perilous road;
The low reef roaring on her lee, the roll of ocean poured
From stem to stern, sea after sea; the mainmast by the
board,

The bulwarks down, the rudder gone, the boats stove at the chains,

But courage still, brave mariners-the bower yet remains,

And not an inch to flinch he deigns, save when ye pitch sky high,

Then moves his head, as though he said, "Fear nothinghere am I!"

Swing in your strokes in order, let foot and hand keep time, Your blows make music sweeter far than any steeple's chime.

But, while you sling your sledges, sing, and let the burden be,

The anchor is the anvil king, and royal craftsmen we!

Strike in, strike in-the sparks begin to dull their rustling

red;

Our hammers ring with sharper din, our work will soon be sped;

Our anchor soon must change his bed of fiery rich array, For a hammock at the roaring bows, or an oozy couch of

clay;

Our anchor soon must change the lay of merry craftsmen here,

For the yeo-heave-o, and the heave-away, and the sighing seamen's cheer;

When, weighing slow, at eve they go-far, far from love and home;

And sobbing sweethearts, in a row, wail o'er the ocean foam.

In livid and obdurate gloom he darkens down at last;

A shapely one he is, and strong as e'er from cat was cast.
O trusted and trustworthy guard, if thou hadst life like me,
What pleasures would thy toils reward beneath the deep
green sea!

O deep-sea diver, who might then behold such sights as thou?

The hoary monsters' palaces! methinks what joy 't were now To go plumb plunging down amid the assembly of the

whales,

And feel the churned sea round me boil beneath their

Scourging tails!

Then deep in tangle-woods to fight the fierce sea unicorn, And send him foiled and bellowing back, for all his ivory

horn;

To leave the subtle sworder-fish of bony blade forlorn;
And for the ghastly-grinning shark to laugh his jaws to

scorn;

To leap down on the kraken's back, where mid Norwegian isles

He lies, a lubber anchorage for sudden shallowed miles; Till snorting, like an under-sea volcano, off he rolls; Meanwhile to swing, a-buffeting the far astonished shoals

Of his black-browsing ocean-calves; or, haply in a cove Shell-strewn, and consecrate of old to some Undine's love, To find the long-haired mermaideus; or, hard by icy lands, To wrestle with the sea-serpent upon cerulean sands.

O broad-armed fisher of the deep, whose sports can equal thine?

The Dolphin weighs a thousand tons that tugs thy cable-line; And night by night 'tis thy delight, thy glory day by day, Through sable sea and breaker white, the giant game to play

But shamer of our little sports, forgive the name I gave! A fisher's joy is to destroy, thine office is to save.

O lodger in the sea-kings' halls, couldst thou but understand Whose be the white bones by thy side, or who that drip

ping band,

Slow swaying in the heaving wave, that round about thee

bend,

With sounds like breakers in a dream, blessing their ancient friend

Oh, couldst thou know what heroes glide with larger steps round thee,

Thine iron side would swell with pride; thou'dst leap within the sea!

Give honor to their memories who left the pleasant strand, To shed their blood so freely for the love of Fatherland; Who left their chance of quiet age and grassy churchyard

grave,

So freely, for a restless bed amid the tossing wave;

Or, though our anchor may not be all I have fondly sung, Honor him for their memory whose bones he goes among.

THE PERIL OF THE MINES.

"Twenty years ago last May, I came to live in this bit of a house by the great coal mine, to be near my husband and my two boys. Not that I felt they were in any great danger when I lost sight of them going down in the shaft in the morning; but then, you see, I could have them by me a bit longer in the morning, and then it was so pleasant to watch for them coming up at night; and more than all, little crumbs of news came up from time to time, all day. Somebody would be coming up every little while, and I had many a chance to drop in the

buckets little tin pails, with a taste of something warm, right off the fire, or a bottle of hot coffee, when I saw my husband or Rufus or Charles was a little weak; and then to watch for the 'thank you, wife,' or 'thank you, mother,' that was always certain to come back the next chance. Oh, I like living here. I would not have gone away to live in the finest house in the land, and left my husband and boys behind.

66

It was seventeen years ago, last May, when the overseer of the mine came one night to talk to my husband. He took him out of the house and beyond the little garden paling, where I could not hear what he said; but husband-looked when he had gone, John-that was my soberer than I'd ever seen him in my life; and he was always the brightest man, full of good thoughts to all. He could not help laughing out his gladness. He said there was so much of it coming up in his soul that he couldn't help letting it out; and it made me feel as if I was all done up in a rainbow, somehow; and then the two boys-"

For a moment Aunt Mudge stopped, and Paul ventured to ask:

"What did the overseer want?"

"He wanted my husband to go down in the mine at midnight, and examine it, just as the miners have gone below now. There were noises, strange growlings and groanings, and the damps were filling all the mine. You see they opened the mine then on both sides of the mountain, east and west, and were working toward each other, hoping to gain an opening through the mountain; and some thought it was the air rushing through that made the noises. Well, my husband went down. He never told me till 'twas just midnight. You see it was Sunday night, and nothing could coax him to go down on Sunday; so he let me go to sleep; and, when I woke up, the moon was floating into the room, like a great high tide; and there, right on the river of it, was John, kneeling on the

floor and saying his prayers; and I heard the little clock on the kitchen shelf strike, and I counted twelve. Just then came a knock, and John said 'amen' quite out loud, and got up. Then he came and looked at me and saw that I was wide awake; and so he kissed me, and said;

"Good-by, my little Mudge! I am going down the mine to look at some things they've found down there. I'll be back, please God, to eat breakfast with you.'

"The moonlight, and the prayer, and the knock, and the good-by, all seemed so str. nge that they dazcd me, and I let him go; but a dream I had just after, frightened my sleep away, and I went out and sat by the lonely shaft, and watched all night. I listened with my ears close to the opening; but it was all so still, and the gre: t, full moon walked down the blue field, and the dark mountain came up between, and the day began to break at last, and then I got up. My two boys were out, early as it was, digging in the garden to surprise me; so I stole in at the front door and let them think I was asleep.

"The little round table-you see it there was soon ready; four plates and knives and forks on it, it was just large enough for four. Well, while the breakfast was waiting for John, the boys came to inquire for their father; and when I had told them where he had gone, they never stopped to speak, but went straight out, and I followed them to the place where I had watched all night. Just then the miners were come, and they said Rufus and Charles must not go down; but my two boys couldn't be kept back, and they bade me good-by, and, as their bright heads went out of sight, Rufus called back, 'Keep the breakfast warm, mother, and we will fetch father up to eat soon.'

"The place where the coal was taken out of the mine was about half a mile away, and the men who stood at the windlass were gone to it, and I could not bear to leave the place; the signal might come at any instant, and there would be no one there to mind it, so I stayed;