I saw the post quiver where Bolingbroke struck,
And guessed that the pace we had come the last milo
Had blown him a bit (he could jump like a buck).
We galloped more steadily then for a while.

The heath was soon passed; in the dim distance lay
The mountain. The sun was just clearing the tips
Of the ranges to eastward. The mare-could she stay?
She was bred very nearly as clean as Eclipse.

She led, and as oft as he came to her side

She took the bit, free and untiring as yet;
Her neck was arched double, her nostrils were wide,
And the tips of her tapering ears nearly met.

"You're lighter than I am," said Alec at last,
"The horse is dead beat and the mare isn't blown.
She must be a good one-ride on and ride fast,
You know your way now." So I rode on alone.
Still galloping forward we passed the two flocks
At M'Intyre's hut and M'Allister's hill,
She was galloping strong at the Warrigal Rocks,
On the Wallaby Range she was galloping still.

And over the waste land and under the wood,
By down and by dale, and by fell and by flat,
She galloped, and here in the stirrups I stood
To ease her, and there in the saddle I sat

To steer her. We suddenly struck the red loam

Of the track near the troughs, then she reeled on the rise From her crest to her croup covered over with foam, And blood-red her nostrils and bloodshot her eyes.

A dip in the dell where the wattle fire bloomed

A bend round a bank that had shut out the viewLarge framed in the mild light the mountain had bloomed, With a tall purple peak bursting out from the blue. I pulled her together, I pressed her, and she Shot down the decline to the Company's yard,

And on by the paddocks, yet under my knee

I could feel her heart thumping the saddle flaps hard.

Yet a mile and another, and now we were near
The goal, and the fields and the farms flitted fast,
And 'twixt the two fences I turned with a cheer,
For a green, grass-fed mare 'twas a far thing and fast!

And laborers, roused by her galloping hoofs,

Saw bare-headed rider and foam-sheeted steed; And shone the white walls and the slate-colored roofs Of the township. I steadied her then-I had needWhere stood the old chapel (where stands the new churchSince chapels to churches have changed in that town),

A short, sidelong stagger, a long forward lurch,

A slight choking sob, and the mare had gone down. I slipped off the bridle, I slackened the girth,

I ran on and left her, and told them my news;

I saw her soon afterwards.

How much for her hide?

What was she worth?

She had never worn shoes.

GOD KNOWS.

An emigrant ship with a world aboard
Went down by the head on the Kentish coast,
No tatter of bunting at half-mast lowered,

No cannon to toll for the creatures lost.
Two hundred and twenty their souls let slip,
Two hundred and twenty with speechless lip
Went staggering down in the foundered ship.
Nobody can tell it—nor you nor I,—

The freezing of fright when lightning thought Wove like a shuttle the far and nigh,

Shot quivering streams through the long forgot,
And lighted the years with a ghastly glare,

A second a year and a second to spare,
Mid surges of water, and gasps of prayer.

The heavens were doom, and the Lord was dumb,
The cloud and the breaker were blent in one,
No angel in sight, not any to come!

God pardon their sins for the Christ, His Son!
The tempest died down as the tempest will.

The sea in a rivulet drowse lay still,

The roses were red on the rugged hill,—

The roses that blow in the early light,
And die into gray with the mists of night.
Then drifted ashore in a night-gown dressed,
A waif of a girl with her sanded hair,
And hands like a prayer on her cold blue breast,
And a smile on her mouth that was not despair;

No stitch on the garment even to tell

Who bore her, who lost her, who loved her well;
Unnamed as a rose-was it Norah or Nell?

The coasters and wreckers around her stood

And gazed on the treasure-trove landward cast,
As round a dead robin the sturdy wood,

Its plumage all rent, and the whirlwind past.
They laid a white cross on her home-made rest,
The coffin was rude as a red-breast's nest,
And poor was the shroud, but a perfect rest
Fell down on the child like dew on the west.

A ripple of sod just covered her over,

66

Nobody to bid her " Good-night, my bird!" Spring waited to weave a quilt of red clover, Nobody alive had her pet name heard.

"What name?" asked the preacher. "God knows!" they said, Nor waited nor wept as they made her bed,

But sculptured "God knows," on the slate at her head.

The lesson be ours when the night runs wild,

The road out of sight, and the stars gone home,

Lost hope or lost heart, lost Pleiad or child,

Remember the words at the drowned girl's tomb.
Bewildered and blind the soul can repose
Whether cypress, or laurel blossoms or blows.
Whatever betides for the good "God knows"—
God knows all the while-our blindness his sight,
Our darkness his day, our weakness his might.

THE TRIBULATIONS OF BIDDY MALONE. GEORGE M. VICKERS.

The furrest quistion And whin I say "I'll Shure a body would

I've answered tin advortoisements in two days, but niver a place I got at all, at all. they ax me is, "Can ye cook?" thry," they tell me I'll not suit. think there was nothing in the worruld to do but cook, cook, cook; bad luck to the cookin'. I've been in the country jist four weeks nixt Tehuesday, and this is Monday; and I've had enough of yer Yankee cookin', and I'll have no more of it.

I've lost three places already with this cookin', shure. The furrest lady, sez she, "Can ye cook?" Sez I, "Shure, mum, I can that, for it's many a murphy I've cooked at ne home beyant the sea.' So I wint into the kitchen, an' me thrunk wint up to the attic. Sez the missus, afther a while, "Bridget, here's a turkey; shtuff it and roast it."

Well, at two o'clock she comes into the kitchen, and sez she, “Bridget, how is it ye are so late wid the dinner, isn't the turkey done yet?" Sez I, "I'll see, mum." I wint to the pot an' took off the lid. "Look, mum," sez I. "You've burnt the fowel to paces," sez she. Sez I, "Shure you tould me to shtuff the burd and roast it; so I shtuffed it into the pot." Well, meself and me thrunk left that same noight.

The nixt place I wint the lady was troubled wid a wakeness. Sez she, "Biddy, dear, ye'll foind a piece of bafe in the refrigeratorio; git it and make me some bafe tea." Well, afther huntin' all over for the refrigeratorio, I found the mate in a chist ferninst a chunk of ice. I put the mate in the tea-pot an' lit it dhraw fur a few minuts, an' thin I took it to the missus, wid a cup, a saucer an' a shpoon. "Biddy, dear," sez she, "ye needen't moind a sendin' for your thrunk." So I lost that place,

too.

The nixt place was at an ould widower's house: he had two lazy childer; wan was twinty an' the other was twinty, too; they were twins, ye see. Well, the butcher brought some oysters. Sez the lazy twins, "We'll have thim shtewd." Well, I did shtew thim, but the shpal peens discharged me because I biled thim like praties wid their jackets on.

So here I am, this blessed day, a poor, lone gurl, saking a place at sarvice. Bad luck to the Yankee cookin'. Well, I'll shtop at one more place,-let me see; (pulls piece of newspaper from pocket.) Yis, here's the advortoisement. (Reads.) "Wanted, a gurl in a shmall family

consistin' of thirteen childer an' two adults." Well, I'd rather do their work, even if it was a big family, than be bothered with shtuffed turkey, bafe tea, or shtewd oysters. I'll call on the shmall family. (Courtesies and exits.)

THE LORD'S PRAYER ILLUSTRATED. Our Father,

By right of creation,
By bountiful provision,
By gracious adoption.

Who art in heaven,

The throne of thy glory,
The portion of thy children,
The temple of thy angels.

Hallowed be thy name,

By the thoughts of our hearts,
By the words of our lips,

By the works of our hands.

Thy kingdom come,

Of Providence to defend us,

Of grace to refine us,

Of glory to crown us.

Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,
Toward us without resistance,
By us without compulsion,
Universally without exception,
Eternally without declension.

Give us this day our daily bread,
Of necessity for our bodies,
Of eternal life for our souls.

And forgive us our trespasses,

Against the commands of thy law,
Against the grace of thy gospel.

As we forgive those who trespass against us,
By defaming our character,

By embezzling our property,
By abusing our persons.