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"Is it very wide ?” I asked.
Oh, not more 'n a good stretch from here to the dry land --but deep; over six feet, I should say--and rising." “But the bed, Bobbery,” I said, “and the other things.”
Well, we must just leave them until it's all right again." “Will it ever be all right?" I asked. “Why, yes, of course,” said Bobbery.
He was such a splendid chap, sir, was Bobbery, and so clever! He took the two chairs that were drifting about the rooin, and tied them close together, and then we waded across to the window, and stood upon the sill.
“I think it's jolly good fun,” said Bobbery. “If you could. only see how your boat 's bobbing up and down in front here! Get in quick, or I can't bold her. Here! port her helm, or something! Are you all right?”
“It's splendid," I said ; come along."
But when Bobbery put his foot on to the unsteady raft, she went down on one side with a plunge. “Never mind,” he said: "you've just got to push yourself ashore with this pole, as straight as you can go, and I will follow.”
I thought that was trne, or I never would have left Bobbery. I took the pole he gave me, and went out on the resta less waters, that I felt were blood-red where the setting sun had touched them. People on the opposite side cheered, and cried, and called me, and Bobbery behind called out once or twice, “Ship ahoy!" in a shrill voice, that I knew and loved better than anything on earth, and once I heard him say faintly-he seemed so far away—“In port at last.”
The people on shore had ceased their shouts of excite. ment and encouragement, the light had died utterly away.
In an awful silence, and an awful darkness, I jumped to land, and held out my two hands.
“Bobbery! Bobbery!" I cried, “I want to thank you."
Did Bobbery hear, sir, do you think? Do people hear anything, do people understand anything, after they have gone away?
I only knew that the awful silence was turning me to stone, that the awful darkness was rising like a stone wall between me and Bobbery-and I was afraid. When I called, no one
answered me, and I was glad. If his voice was silent, any other voice would have maddened me just then, and I wanted nothing more to tell me all the truth. I learned through the silence on land and sea how God had answered my prayer.
They told me afterward how the plank he was launching to help himself to the shore drifted away from his hand, and was out of sight directly, how they would have saved him if they could, and how, when they began to shout to hin directions, he made a sign for silence, and stood straight upon the sill, with the sunset creeping all about him, and the waters washing at his feet. They wondered why he had made no effort to reach the shore with me-they used to wonder for long after, why he had stood so silent, with his eager eyes, and restless feet so strangely still. I knew, of course; but what right had any one else to come between me and Bobbery? It wouldn't have done any one any good to know what I knew-that Bobbery wouldn't let me lose the faintest chance; thought my blind, helpless life quite as well worth saving as his own. I would have done the same for him, sir, any day-for Bobbery and me, we were always fond of each other.
The story's been longer than I thought, sir, but just the evening, and the floods again, and your wanting to know about the cross, brought it back to me like the same evening somehow-and it's company like to talk of the lad.
And Bobbery? he just died, sir; and the folks thought such a deal of him that they collected a bit to set me up, and I took half of the money just to put up this little cross by the river-side--for we always divided the coppers, sir; and I haven't forgotten him-not in these two years! That's all, sir-just all about Bobbery.
ANNIE PROTHEROE.-W. S. GILBERT.
A LEGEND OF STRATFORD-LE-BOW.
Oh! listen to the tale of little Annie Protheroe.
I think I hear you say, “A dreadful subject for your rhymes!"
very much, How famous operators vary very much in touch, And then, perhaps, he'd show how he himself performed
the trick, And illustrate his meaning with a poppy and a stick. Or, if it rained, the little maid would stop at home, and look At his favorable notices, all pasted in a book, And then her cheek would flush-her swimming eyes would
dance with joy In a glow of admiration at the prowess of her boy. One summer eve, at supper-time, the gentle Gilbert said (As he helped his pretty Annie to a slice of collared head), "This reminds me I must settle on the next ensuing day The hash of that unmitigated villain, Peter Gray.” He saw his Annie tremble and he saw his Annie start, Her changing color trumpeted the flutter at her heart; Young Gilbert's manly bosom rose and sank with jealous fear, And he said, “ ( gentle Annie, what's the meaning of this
here?” And Annie answered, blushing in an interesting way, You think, no doubt, I'm sighing for that felon, Peter Gray: That I was his young woman is unquestionably true, But not since I began a-keeping company witli you.” Then Gilbert, who was irritable, rose and loudly swore He'd know the reason why if she refused to tell him more; And she answered (all the woman in her flashing from her
eyes), "You musn't ask no questions, and you won't be told no lies! "Few lovers have the privilege enjoyed, my dear, by you, Of chopping off a rival's head and quartering him too! Of vengeance, dear, to-morrow you will surely take your fill!" And Gilbert ground his molars as he answered her, “I will!”
Young Gilbert rose from table with a stern determined look,
“Stay!" 'Twas Annie, gentle Annie, as you'll easily believe. "O Gilbert, you must spare him, for I bring him a reprieve, It came from our Home Secretary many weeks ago, And passed through that post-office which I used to keep
at Bow. “I loved you, loved you madly, and you know it, Gilbert Clay, And as I'd quite surrendered all idea of Peter Gray, I quietly suppressed it, as you'll clearly understand, For I thought it might be awkward if he came and claimed
my hand. "In anger at my secret (which I could not tell before), To lacerate poor Peter Gray vindictively you swore; I told you if you used that blunted axe you'd rue the day, And so you will, old fellow, for I'll marry Peter Gray !"
[And so she did.
A HOUSE NOT MADE WITH HANDS.-EARL MARBLE.
When a man dies the people ask, “ What property has he left behind him?" But the angely, as they bend over his grave, inquire, “What good deeds basi thuu sent before thee?"- MUHAMMED.
"Abijah Dunn! Abijah Dunn!
Where art ihou this bright summer morn?
Whose rays both earth and sky adorn.”
I oft had lingered for awhile,
And more than sweetest woman's smile.
So shot a summons through the air
To see the sun's bright rising glare.
To greater glory than the sun's, -
Far up the sky he glowing runs.
Stood still a moment as the Voice
And bear to realms where all rejoice.
Brief moments surged with spirit light,
Were drowned in blisses that requite.
Thine earthly house meets not thy needs;
But Heaven's o'erflows with souls of deeds;
Of which, alas! but poor thy part:
Adorned, is built of what thou art.
For such thy name's significance,
Hath kept thee an inheritance,
A thought or act, as love did warm,
Its shape enlarged to grander form.
That window toward morn's brightest skies,