Then I turned and kissed her softly, and tried to hide my tears,

And my mates outside, when they saw me, set up three hearty cheers;

But I rubbed my eyes wi' my knuckles, and turned to old Ben and said,

"I'll see her again, maybe, lad, when the sea gives up its dead."

We launched the boat in the tempest, though death was the goal in view,

And never a one but doubted if the craft could live it through;

But our boat she stood it bravely, and, weary and wet and weak,

We drew in hail of the vessel we had dared so much to seek.

But just as we come upon her she gave a fearful

roll,

And went down in the seethin' whirlpool with every livin' soul!

We rowed for the spot, and shouted,-for all around was dark,

But only the wild wind answered the cries from our plungin' bark.

I was strainin' my eyes and watchin', when I thought I heerd a cry,

And I saw past our bows a somethin' on the crest of a wave dashed by ;

I stretched out my hand to seize it. I dragged it aboard, and then

I stumbled, and struck my forrud, and fell like a log on Ben.

I remember a hum of voices, and then I knowed

no more

Till I came to my senses, here, sir-here, in my home ashore.

My forrud was tightly bandaged, and I lay on my

little bed

I'd slipped, so they told me arter, and a rulluck had struck my head.

Then my mates came in and whispered; they'd heerd I was comin' round.

At first I could scarcely hear 'em, it seemed like a buzzin' sound;

But as soon as my head got clearer, and accustomed to hear 'em speak,

I knew as I'd lain like that, sir, for many a long, long week.

I guessed what the lads was hidin', for their poor old shipmate's sake.

I could see by their puzzled faces they'd got some news to break;

So I lifts my head from the pillow, and I says to old Ben, "Look here!

I'm able to bear it now, lad--tell me, and never fear."

Not one on 'em ever answered, but presently Ben goes out,

And the others slinks away like, and I says, "What's this about?

Why can't they tell me plainly as the poor old wife is dead ?"

Then I fell again on the pillows, and I hid my achin' head.

I lay like that for a minute, till I heard a voice cry "John !"

And I thought it must be a vision as my weak eyes gazed upon;

For there by the bedside, standin' up and well, was my wife.

And who do ye think was with her? Why, Jack, as large as life.

It was him as I'd saved from drownin' the night as the lifeboat went

To the wreck of the Royal Helen; 'twas that as the vision meant.

They'd brought us ashore together, he'd knelt by his mother's bed,

And the sudden joy had raised her like a miracle from the dead;

And mother and son together had nursed me back to life,

And my old eyes woke from darkness to look on my son and wife.

Jack? He's our right hand now, sir; 'twas Providence pulled him through

He's allus the first aboard her when the lifeboat

wants a crew.

George R. Sims.

COURTSHIP OF HENRY THE FIFTH.

King Henry.

Fair Katherine and most fair! Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms, Such as will enter at a lady's ear,

And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart? Katherine (conversing with the aid of Alice.) Your majesty shall mock at me; I cannot speak your England.

K. Hen. O fair Katherine, if you will love me soundly with your French heart, I will be glad to hear you confess it brokenly with your English tongue. Do you like me, Kate?

me.

Kath.

Pardonnez moi, I cannot tell vat is-like

K. Hen. An angel is like you, Kate; and you are like an angel.

Kath. Que dit-il? que je suis semblable à les anges?

Alice. Oui, vraiment (sauf votre grace), ainsi dit-il.

K. Hen. I said so, dear Katherine, and I must not blush to affirm it.

Kath. O bon Dieu! les langues des hommes sont pleines de tromperies.

K. Hen. What says she, fair one? that the tongues of men are full of deceits?

Alice. Oui; dat de tongues of de mans is full of deceits dat is de princess.

K. Hen. The princess is the better Englishwoman. I' faith, Kate, my wooing is fit for thy understanding.

Kath. Sauf votre honneur, me understand well. K. Hen. Marry, if you would put me to verses, or to dance for your sake, Kate, why you undid me. If I could win a lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle with my armor on my back, under the correction of bragging be it spoken, I should quickly leap unto a wife. Or if I might buffet for my love, or bound my horse for her favors, I could lay on like a butcher, and sit like a jackanapes, never off; but, Kate, I cannot look greenly, nor gasp out my eloquence, nor I have no cunning in protestation. If thou canst love a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth sunburning, that never looks in his glass for love of anything he sees there, let thine eye be thy cook. I speak to thee plain soldier: If thou canst love me for this, take me; if not, to say to thee-that I shall die, is true: but-for thy love, by the Lord, no; yet I love thee too. And while thou livest, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined constancy; for he perforce must do thee right, because he hath not the gift to woo in other places for these fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves into ladies' favors, they do always reason themselves out again. What! a speaker is but a prater; a rhyme is but a ballad. A good leg will fall; a straight back will stoop; a black beard will turn white; a curled pate will grow bald; a fair face will wither; a full eye will wax hollow; but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and the moon; or rather the sun, and not the