YONDER

THE DRUM.

VONDER is a little drum, hanging on the wall;

Dusty wreaths and tattered flags round about it fall.

A shepherd youth on Cheviot's hills watched . the sheep whose skin

A cunning workman wrought, and gave the little drum its din.

Oh, pleasant are fair Cheviot's hills, with velvet verdure spread,

And pleasant 'tis among its heath to make your summer bed;

And sweet and clear are Cheviot's rills that trickle to its vales,

And balmily its tiny flowers breathe on the passing gales.

And thus hath felt the shepherd boy whilst tending of his fold;

Nor thought there was, in all the world, a spot like Cheviot's weld.

And so it was for many a day! but change with time will come;

And he (alas for him the day!) he heard

Or breathe once more the balminess of Cheviot's mountain gales!

At length, upon his wearied eyes the mists of slumber come,

And he is in his home again-till wakened by the drum!

"Take arms! take arms!' his leader cries, the hated foeman's nigh!'

Guns loudly roar-steel clanks on steel, and thousands fall to die.

The shepherd's blood makes red the sand: "Oh, water!-give me some!

My voice might reach a friendly ear-but for that little drum!'

'Mid moaning men, and dying men, the drummer kept his way,

And many a one by 'glory' lured did curse the drum that day.

'Rub-a-dub!' and 'rub-a-dub!' the drummer beat aloud

The shepherd died! and, ere the morn, the hot sand was his shroud.

And this is Glory'!-Yes; and still will man the tempter follow,

Nor learn that Glory, like its drum, is but a sound-and hollow!

and fierce, and he cursed the Christians. His servants said to him before he entered his palace, Thy wife has become a Christian. A Christian Teacher, disguised as a gardener, has crept into thy palace and made her abjure Mahommed. Another Christian, who was brought here as prisoner of war, the brave soldiers had to deliver up to her. He, too, has helped towards her apostasy. Look, there he is, just passing by!

In these two Christians she places all her confidence; we Turks are no longer of any esteem with her. She conducts herself more according to the customs of Christian than of Turkish women. She has even adopted two Christian boys, the sons of this prisoner, this enemy of the Turks, as her own.'

Then the Pacha became still more excited. He ran like a madman up the steps of his palace. At the top his wife hastened to meet him with a loving welcome. When he saw her he tried to compose himself, and said, in a more calm manner, 'Is it true? Are you a Christian ?" She replied, 'It is true; I am a Christian, and I rejoice to confess my faith in Christ.' Then in a fury he tore his sword from its sheath to cut off her head.

But a captain who was with him seized him by the arm, held back his hand with much difficulty, and said, Leave her some time to reflect; I do not doubt she will soon be brought to a better mind. Our teachers will know how to give her instruction. The good lady has been deluded by the arts and devices of these Christians, She will soon perceive her folly and repent.' Let it be so,' said the Pacha. give her three days to think over it. her back to her apartment and keep watch over her there. But at once throw into prison the priest and the other Christians. In three days they shall die without pity.'

I will Lead

The lady was led to her chamber, and a guard was placed before it. But the good Teacher and the father of the two boys were cast into prison.

The poor boys, Timotheus and Philemon, were sad and terrified when they heard that their father was to be executed in three days. Everybody in the palace pitied them. The Christian slaves loved them heartily, for the boys had shown them so many kindnesses, and had begged many a favour for them from their mistress. The Turks, too, were fond of the winsome children. They often said to each other, 'They are bright boys, some day they will become brave Turks.'

They consoled the boys as best they could. 'Think yourselves lucky,' they said, that the Pacha has not ordered you to be executed too. It is fortunate, indeed, that he spares you. But take care not to come into his sight, or he will certainly have your heads cut off.'

Both boys went to their chamber, knelt down there, raised their hands to Heaven, and prayed with burning tears, O Thou gracious and merciful God, have pity upon our beloved father, our dear teacher, and the good Elmine! Save them, for Thou alone canst do it.'

They consoled each other with the words of Holy Scripture, chiefly with those words of David which the pious Antonius had often repeated to them: Many are the troubles of the righteous, but the Lord delivereth him out of them all.'

Then they prayed again, and afterwards thought of many other beautiful, comforting texts of Holy Scripture, which they had formerly learned by heart; and their trust in God and His promises made their hearts feel easier, and filled them with hope, even when all seemed dark about them.

(To be continued.)

THE ROCK-FOWLER'S

T

DAUGHTER.

CHAPTER I.

HE small Island of St. Kilda, which is off the Western coast of Scotland, is surrounded almost entirely by cliffs, forming bold and lofty precipices to the sea. Around this rocky coast multitudes of gannets,

gulls, and other sea-birds, throng, resembling at a little distance bees hovering over gigantic hives.

The inhabitants of the island chiefly gain their living from rock-fowling, and the number of birds killed annually is incredible. The flesh is eaten, and the rent of the land is paid, chiefly in feathers; indeed the rocks of St. Kilda are divided among the people as exactly as its soil. Almost every one is an expert cragsman, and the eggs of some species of sea-fowl are sought after by the same perilous means as the birds themselves. Bird-poles, or fowling-staffs about five or six yards in length, are used, sometimes with a net attached. A rope fastens two fowlers together, who assist one another in climbing, the safety of one depending on the strength and courage of the other.

More dangerous still is the mode of fowling practised where the rocks cannot be scaled In that case the fowler is let down by a rope, and hangs in mid air often several hundred feet above rough rocks or roaring waves, and by means of a pole he throws himself out from the face of the cliff so as to have a view of all its crannies and ledges, often netting birds that fly near enough.

One man standing on the very verge of a

precipice can sustain the weight of another bounding from point to point below. Some even descend unaided, fastening the rope for themselves to a stake driven into the ground above.

On the western side of the island lies a bay with low shore and sandy beach, contrasting strangely with the frowning cliffs at either side, and near this point a small cottage once stood in which dwelt David Murray, the best cragsman of the place, and his daughter Alice. The child had lost her mother some years before, and afterwards a baby-brother who had been left in her charge; now, she and her father were left alone, and her only care was to attend to his wants and comforts as she had seen her mother do long ago. The cottage was always neat and tidy when he returned from work, for the evenings were Alice's happy time, when seated by the fire he told stories of his boyhood, of wonderful escapes and adventures on dizzy heights, and before I parting for the night it was his custom to read a passage from the Holy Scriptures, and ask God's blessing and protection while they slept.

During the season for gathering seabirds' eggs, David came home one day earlier than usual, bringing some fish which he had caught in the bay.

'Father,' said Alice, as she prepared them for dinner, I'm so glad you have taken to fishing, and I hope you've quite done with the rocks for this year: we have plenty of birds and eggs now, and as much feathers as will make up the rent.'

'Yes, my child, we have done well so far, but Borrera has to be tried yet, and I hear there are great flocks of birds about the stacks: I'm going to see what I can do there to-morrow. Andy Jamieson has promised to help, for it's no easy matter to climb those crags without a comrade. I must