Across the path the owlet flew,

And screamed along the blast;
As onward, with a quickened step,
Benighted Henry passed.

At intervals, amid the gloom,
A flash of lightning played,
And showed the ruts with water filled,
And the black hedges' shade.
Again in thickest darkness plunged,
He groped his way to find;
At length, alas! he spied beyond
A form of horrid kind.

In deadly white it upward rose,
Of cloak or mantle bare,
And held its naked arms across,
To catch him by the hair.

Poor Henry felt his blood run cold,

At what before him stood;

BUT, WELL, THOUGHT HE, NO HARM, I'M SURE, CAN HAPPEN TO THE GOOD.

SO CALLING ALL HIS COURAGE UP,

HE TO THE GOBLIN WENT;

AND EAGER THROUGH THE DISMAL GLOOM
HIS PIERCING EYES HE BENT.

And when he came well nigh the ghost
That gave him such affright,

He clapped his hands upon his side
And fairly laughed outright.

For 'twas a friendly hand-post stood,
His wandering steps to guide;
And thus he found that to the good
No evil can betide.

And, well, thought he, one thing I've learnt,
Nor soon shall I forget:

Whatever frightens me again,

TO MARCH STRAIGHT UP TO IT.

And, when I hear an idle tale

Of goblin or of ghost,

I'll tell of this my lonely walk,

And the tall, white, "Hand-post."

GO ON.

"Look not mournfully back into the past, it comes not back again. Wisely improve the present, it is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy future without fear and with a manly heart."-LONGFELLOW.

(Bold and vigorous.)

GO ON GO ON! no moments wait
TO HELP THE RIGHT,

Be strong in faith and emulate
The virtues of the good and great
With all thy might-

GO ON!

GO ON! GO ON! the skies may lower,
The storm may burst,

Unshaken in the trial hour,

GOOD PURPOSES SHALL GIVE THEE POWER,
TO BRAVE THE WORST-

GO ON!

GO ON! GO ON! Thou can'st not tell
Thy mission here!

Whate'er thou doest, labour well,
Nor let a doubt within thee dwell
Or coward fear-

GO ON!

GO ON GO ON! 'tis never late

To act thy part,

Thy STERN RESOLVE shall conquer fate,
And springs of happiness create

Within thy heart—

GO ON!

GO ON! GO ON! no guerdon seek
For thy reward,

But while heroic, be thou meek,

And from thy heart and from thy cheek
Be pride debarred--

GO ON!

GO ON! GO ON! thy Master's ear
And constant eye

Observe each groan, each struggling tear,
He 'midst the shadows dark and drear

GO ON! GO ON! thy onward way
Leads up to light,

The morning now begins to grey;
Anon the cheering beams of day
SHALL CHASE THE NIGHT-

GO ON!

GO ON! GO ON! OH, DOUBT IT NEVER—
This strife with wrong

Is fated not to last for ever,

BUT IF WE BOLDLY MAKE ENDEAVOUR,
WILL CEASE ERE LONG-

GO ON!

THE GIANT.

[Bold and earnest.]

There came a GIANT to my door,
A GIANT FIERCE AND STRONG,
His step was HEAVY on the floor,
His arms were ten yards long.

He SCOWL'D and FROWN'D; he SHOOK the GROUND:
I trembled through and through;

At length I looked him in the face,

And cried, "WHO CARES FOR YOU?"

The MIGHTY GIANT, as I spoke,
Grew pale, and thin, and small ;

And through his body, as 'twere smoke,
I saw the sunshine fall.

His blood-red eyes turned blue as skies,
He whisper'd soft and low.

"IS THIS," I cried, with glowing pride,
"IS THIS THE MIGHTY FOE?"

He sunk before my earnest face,
He vanish'd quite away,

And left no shadow on his place
Between me and the day.

Such giants come to strike us dumb

But, weak in every part,

They melt before the strong man's eyes,
AND FLY THE TRUE OF HEART.

"WHITE LIES."

BY HARBIETTE NOEL-THATCHER,

[A Dialogue for three girls.]

Alice. It was very unkind of teacher to make your poor little sister Ettie cry, Lizzie; I should have been cross if it had been our little Annie.

Lizzie. I was very sorry too, to see her cry, but I think teacher only said what she did out of kindness, and mother says that Ettie's tears lie near the surface. I suppose that means that she very soon cries.

Alice. Well, but teacher needn't have made such a fuss with her, poor little thing.

Ettie. (Between six and seven.) I'll ask mother not to let me go to school any more.

Lizzie. Then do you mean to tell her why teacher was displeased with you?

Alice. I should tell my mother.

Ettie. O, but we mustn't tell, must we, Lizzie ?

Lizzie. No, indeed, for she would say

"He that does a fault at first,

And lies to hide it, makes it two.'

"

Alice. O, you are a cross girl, Lizzie. Why, there's no harm in telling a fib.

Ettie. What's a fib?

Alice. O, what some people call a white lie.

Lizzie. A fib, I learnt the other day in my meanings, is a soft name for a lie.

Alice. Yes, a white lie.

Ettie (Laughing). O, that is funny! I didn't know that we could speak white. My pinafore, and the ribbon on my best hat is white-white lies! Is that what it said in your meanings, Lizzie?

Lizzie. It didn't say anything about white lies, and I believe that there are no white lies.

Alice. Ah, you don't know everything yet, I can tell you, Miss Liz. I know there are white lies, for my father was saying to mother that he never knew any man tell so many white lies as Mr. Smart; and I asked mother what it meant, and she said fibs; and then I wanted to know what she meant by fibs, but she got a little bit cross-said I was a tease, and I was to go away and play.

Ettie. But why do they call them white lies, Alice? How can we speak white?

Alice. O, I'm sure I don't know. Lizzie can tell us, can't you?

Lizzie. I don't know; for, Alice, you said just now that I

don't know everything, and I'm sure I don't. that I have a great deal to learn.

Mother says

Ettie. Yes, but what are white lies? Do tell us, Liz. dear. Didn't it say something about it in your meanings? O, it is so funny to talk white!

Don't you

Lizzie. Well, I think I know what it means. know teacher said the other day that some people were benighted, and were dark, and that we-the people in England-have light; and somehow, though I forget just how she said it, she made me think white meant something better than black— meant knowing more; and so I suppose when people say white lies, they mean little lies.

Alice. Yes, to be sure they do-those that are no harm.

Lizzie. But, Alice, that isn't right. If I were to tell you that the strap which goes round my books was a piece of tape, and I wanted you to believe that it was a piece of tape, that would be a lie.

Alice. But it wouldn't hurt me whether you put a piece of tape round your books or a strap.

Lizzie. Yes, but if you didn't know the difference between a piece of tape and a strap I should be deceiving you, and that would be wrong; and so what you would call a white lie would really be a lie-an untruth.

Alice. O, Liz., I never thought of that; so it would. But then you couldn't deceive me by telling me that it was a bit of tape.

Lizzie. That's because you know the difference between leather and tape. But suppose I were to tell some of those "benighted" people, as teacher calls them, that a piece of tape was a strap, then I should deceive them, and that would be wrong. Alice. Yes, so it would.

Lizzie. Then, don't you see, Alice, if I told you anything like that it would be a lie, and not a fib; because, though you do know better than to believe my story, it would be untrue all the same.

Ettie. But what harm does it do to deceive people?

Alice. Why, you are a silly girl! When people are deceived they often get what father calls "taken in -like he was in buying that white horse. I don't know whether the man told a white lie or a black lie about it

Ettie. Why, to be sure it was a white lie, because it was a white horse, don't you know.

Alice. O, you are a silly little thing! Isn't she, Lizzie?

Lizzie. No, I don't see that she is; she doesn't know better. And if you said "Yes, to be sure, it was a white lie," then you would have deceived Ettie, and she would have thought that people, when they said what wasn't true about horses, told white lies if the horses were white