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rapidly, and darting between his legs, capsized him into the ash-box.

His family dragged him inside, another candidate for rub. bing with arnica and a blessed haven of rest.

The back of the house has been hermetically sealed; and Burdock now proposes extending an invitation to the militia regiments of Boston to come down and practice marksmanship off the roof; promising to furnish a live goat for a target, and a silver napkin-ring as the first prize.

SENTENCE OF DEATH ON THE HIGH SEAS.

ARTHUR MATTHISON.
Aboard o' the good ship Margaret Ann,

Nigh twenty-five year ago,
I sailed from here to fair Cadiz town,

While the wintry winds did blow.
A stiffer gale never swept the sea

Than we had the fourth week out-
An' pretty well pickled I've been in brine,

An' pretty well blowed about,
But this wind, my hearties, blowed great guns,

Tore the mainmast off the deck;
'Twas a mercy, mates, as the stout old ship

Warn't sent to the bottom a wreck!
Hows'ever, we swum, but hard times we had

Afore that we reached the port ;
For we'd been at sea three weeks too long,

An' provisions was running short.
But once on the shore, and safe from harm

In the sunny land of Spain,
Little we cared for the dangers past-

We was ready to brave 'em again!
But there, I'm a-veerin' away from my yarn-

'Bout ship-don't lose the right tack-
For 'twasn't in Spain as it happ'd, my lads,

But when we was coming back.
Sailed with us a lass from old Cadiz town,

In charge o' the second mate;
And in less than a week the mate and the lass

Was lovers, as sure as fate.

42

“Be to be k

“Wo garden,

'Get into the perfume

The go

“ You v

A finer young fellow ne'er stepped a plank,

Every man aboard was his friend;
A prettier weneh ne'er loved a tar,

And--but wait till you hear the end.
We'd hired some sailors while we was in port,

Anong 'em a Creole chap, garded hi

As might ha' been good for summat on land,

But at sea warn't worth a rap!
Ile kept as much out o' sight as he could

Till a thousand miles from the coast ;
Then, one day, he ineets her face to face,
An' she turns as white as a ghost.

blazed up, and he muttered low times in seven fresh spots, and was down ran right straight to her love,

tierce and fast;

cast.

len tongue,

a hole in l.vn

The sentence was dropped his head on Burdola could recover his equilibrium, he

not she

crawling around in a very undignified manner, to ..
of the family, and the infinite glee of the eleven young -
links next door.

“Look out he don't hurt you!" screamed Mrs. Burdock as the goat sent him flying into a sand-pile.

When Burdock had got his bald head out of the sand, he was mud all over his clothes, and tried to catch the brute by the horns, but desisted after he had lost two front teeth, and been rolled in the mud.

“Don't make a living show of yourself before the neighbors !" advised his wife.

“Come in, pa, and let him be!" begged his daughter.

“Golly, dad, look out! he is comin' agin !" shouted his son enthusiastically.

Mr. Burdock waxed profane, and swore three-story oaths in such rapid succession that his family held their breaths; and a pious old lady, who lived in a house in the rear, shut up her windows, and sent out the cook for a policeman or a missionary.

"Run for it, dad !” advised his son a moment later, when the goat's attention seemed to be turned away.

Burdock sprang to his feet, and followed his offspring's suggestion. He was legging it in superb style, and the chances of his reaching the house seemed excellent, when the fragrant brute suddenly clapped on more steam, gained

And the Creole's sharp knife his blood has drunk,

On the deck he falls in death;
And the curs'd blade's sheathed in as manly a breast

As ever did draw life's breath.
Afore he coulù stir half a step from the spot

I grappled his coward throat;
An' if soine o' the crew hadn't dragged me away,

I'd a strangled him like to a stoat.
He was ironed and tumbled below like a dog;

Poor Philip we sorrowful raised ;
And his dear "little wife" was led gently away,

Heart-broken and pretty near crazed.
It's strange, lads, whenever grim death comes aboard,

The sharks somehow soon find it out;
Anyway, the next day a big hammer-head shark

Off our quarter was floating about.
At noon the bell tolled, the crew mustered on deck,

The slayer and slain was both there;
The captain comes aft, an' no dry eye looked on

While he read out the funeral prayer.
The Creole scowled yet on the dead, and fierce hate

Seemed his glistening eyes to distend; He laughed as he glared on that low-stricken form,

And—but wait till you hear the end ! The captain just then caught a glimpse of the shark,

And some thought come into his head,
For his eye lit up with a terrible light,

And his white brow flushed all red!
And full on the Creole he turned his gaze-

It made me shiver to look ;
For I read an awful doom on his face,

As plain as if writ in a book. “Bo'sun," said he,“ bring a rope," and 'twas brought;

The murderer laughed to see,
And bared his neck, as if for to say:

Hang quick! if so must be.
But his laughing stopped, and his face grew wild,

When they led him towards the dead;
For he guessed his dreadful fate-he too

Had seen that hammer-head!
And he crawled on the deck to the captain's feet,

With pitiful cry and groan;
But he knelt in vain, for the captain's face

Was hard and fixed as stono.

And back to back, limb fast to limb,

Was the dead and the living tied;
And never a man aboard o' the ship

For mercy upon him cried.
His wild death-shriek; I can hear it now

Can yet see his look of woe,
As over the vessel's side they cast

The victim and his foe.
A heavy splash-a body swift

Darts forward through the sea!
A rending cry-from death like that

The Lord deliver me!

BABY.-GEORGE MACDONALD.

Where did you come from, baby dear?
Out of the everywhere into here.
Where did you get those eyes so blue?
Out of the sky as I came through.
What makes the light in them sparkle and spin ?
Some of the starry spikes left in.
Where did you get that little tear?
I found it waiting when I got here.
What makes your forehead so smooth and high?
A soft hand stroked it as I went by.
What makes your cheek like a warm white rose ?
I saw something better than any one knows.
Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss ?
Three angels gave me at once a kiss.
Where did you get this pearly ear?
God spoke and it came out to hear.
Where did you get those arms and hands?
Love made itself into bonds and bands.
Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?
From the same box as the cherubs' wings.
How did they all just come to be you?
God thought about me, and so I grew.
But how did you come to us, you dear?
God thought about you, and so I am hero.

A STRONG TEMPTATION. A young man, or rather a boy, for he was not seventeen years of age, was a clerk in one of the great mercantile houses in New York. An orphan and poor, he must rise, if he rose at all, by his own exertions. His handsome, honest face, and free, cordial manner won for him the friendship of all his fellow-laborers, and many were the invitations he received to join them in the club-room, in the theatre, and even in the bar-room. But Alfred Harris had the pure teachings of a Christian mother to withhold him from rushing headlong into dissipation and vice, and all the persuasions of his comrades could not induce him to join them in scenes like this. He feared the consequences.

One evening one of his fellow clerks, George Warren, the most high-toned and moral among them, invited Alfred to go home with him to supper and make the acquaintance of his family. The boy gladly assented, for he spent many lonely evenings, with only his books and his thoughts for company.

He found his friend's family very social and entertaining. Mrs. Warren, the mother, was a pleasant, winning, I might almost say fascinating, woman; one of the kind whose every little speech seems of consequence, and lose every act praiseworthy. Mr. Warren was a cheery, social gentleman, fond of telling stories and amusing young people. And George's sister, Jessie, a girl about Alfred's own age, gave an additional charm to this happy family.

After supper, wine was brought in. Mrs. Warren poured it out herself, and with a winning smile passed a glass of the sparkling liquid to the guest. Alfred took it with some hesitation, but did not raise it to his lips. Each of the family held a glass, waiting to pledge their visitor. But Alfred feared to drink. He set the goblet on the table, while a burning blush overspread his face.

“What! do not drink wine ?” asked Mrs. Warren, in her pleasant tones.

“I have been taught not to drink it,” said Alfred. “You have had good teaching, I doubt not,” said the lady,

WAZ

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