PUSSY ON SUNDAY.

SHOULD be happy, dearest Fred,
If but one Robin brought a leaf

To lay upon my narrow bed,

In token of his grief,

That he had sought his daily crumb
Beside the old familiar pane,
And found the kindly lips were dumb,

And all his pleadings vain.

I would not pass away from men,
And leave no sorry heart behind,
To sob the wish Come back again,

Friend ever true and kind!'

When I arise, I would not hear
The dark Accuser say of me,
'He never dried a single tear,
Nor set one captive free.

He never pitied blind or lame,
He never spake a tender word,
He brought no blessing when he came
To man, or beast, or bird.'

Now could you be a happy boy
If Pussy thought of you with dread,
Stopped at your voice her purr of joy,

And trembled at your tread;

And if she loved the Sunday chime, Which in the chimney seemed to hum, Because she knew a happy time,

A time of peace was come?

Let Fred bethink him, as he prays,
The wrongs of each, however small,
The Lord remembers, and repays,
For He is Lord of all.

G. S. O.

UNDER ONE BLANKET.

EOW there can be kindness and love between combatants who have stood in battle as enemies to each other was shown by two soldiers, a German and a Frenchman, on the field between Belfort and Montbelliard. Both had fallen-one by a bayonet wound, the other by a bullet. They had given these wounds to each other; and, now that the conflict was over, they lie side by side in great suffering. Overlooked by the bearers of the wounded, they remained lying close together on the plain. Then the German noticed his opponent lying so helplessly beside him: he had himself just strength enough to approach him, to open his knapsack and unroll his blanket, and spread it over them both.

Thus they were found in the morning, and carried to different hospitals. But the brave Frenchman, after he was restored to consciousness, asked who the generous comrade was who had spread the warm covering over him during the cold night; but he never could find him again.

Perhaps, by God's providence, they may some day meet each other again, when they will have much to thank each other for, and much to forgive. J. F. C.

'Let me look on these splendours,

I then may believe,

'Tis the senses alone

That can never deceive.
Nay! Show me your idol,
If on earth be His shrine,
And the Israelites' God

Shall, old dreamer, be mine!'

'Twas Trajan that spoke,

And the stoical sneer Still played on his features.

Sublime and severe; And round the proud hall,

As his dark eye was thrown,

He saw but one god,

And himself was that one.

'The God of our forefathers'
(Low bowed the seer,)
'Is unseen by the eye,

Is unheard by the ear;
He is Spirit-He knows me,
The body's dark chain;
Not the Heaven of Heavens
Could His glory contain.
He is seen in His power

When the storm is abroad,
And the clouds by the wheels

Of His chariot are trod.
He is seen in His mercy
When mountain and plain
Rejoice in the sunshine,

And smile in the rain!
He is seen when the lightnings
Are shot through the heaven,
And the crests of the mountains
In embers are riven;
He is heard when the torrent

Has sent up its roar,
And the billows in thunder

Are flung on the shore!'

"These are dreams,' said the monarch, 'Wild fancies of old.

But what God can I worship

When none I behold?
Can I kneel to the lightning,

The rain, or the wind?
Can I worship a shape

That but lives in the mind?'

'I'll show thee His footstool,
I'll show thee His throne.'
Through the halls of the palace
The Rabbi led on,

Till above them was spread

But the sky's purple dome, And in surges of splendour Beneath them lay Rome! Round the marble-browed mount, Where the Emperor stood, Like a silver-scaled snake

Rolled the Tiber's bright flood; Beyond were the vales

Of the rich Persian rose,

All glowing with beauty,
All breathing repose.

And flaming o'er all

In the glow of the hour, The Capitol stood,

Earth's high altar of power; A thousand years old,

Yet still in its primeA thousand years more

To be conqueror of Time. But the west was now purple, The eve was begun;

Like a monarch at rest

On the waves lay the sun;
About him the clouds
Their rich canopy rolled,
In pillars of diamond

And curtains of gold.
The Rabbi's proud gesture
Was turned to the orb,
"Great king-let that lustre
Thy worship absorb!'

HOW MOTHER'S SHAWL

WAS BOUGHT. (Concluded from page 399.) IM'S face expressed his thanks even more than his words: a splendid plaided shawl unfolded itself in sudden vision before his dancing eyes.

'But stay,' went on the kind-hearted farmer, delighted with Jim's delight; 'you'll be wanting to spend the money, if I let you have it every week. Hadn't I better keep it till the end of the year, think you? And, after all, I expect you'll miss your beer sadly.'

'I don't think I shall, sir; and I don't think either I should lay out the money, only there's nowhere I know of where I could keep it for mother not to find out. So if you'll be so kind, sir, I think that will be the best, as you say.'

And it was settled so; and that very night Jim did the sum, and found that now indeed there was a good chance of a shawl for his mother such as he would like. But he did miss his beer a little the first day; and even a very little the day after. By the end of the week, however, he was quite used to do without it, and found that a draught from the spring, or a little cold. tea brought in a bottle along with his dinner, served every purpose, and refreshed him quite as much. He told his mother nothing about the new arrangement lest she should question him. The grand thing was to keep the intended purchase a secret through all the long months, so as to give her an agreeable surprise in the end.

That was a very happy year for Jim. The thought of the money gradually increasing in his master's hands was a daily

He

delight to him. And he found a new interest in looking into the shop-windows on Saturday nights, when be sometimes went into the town with his mother. took notice, too, in those days, of every tidily dressed woman he met on the road; and many and many a shawl did he fix upon as just the very kind that he would buy when the time for buying came. It must be warm and large, and bright in colour-that he had all along determined; but the particular style and pattern remained an open question, which allowed him as many changes of opinion as there were gay shawls to be seen. Oh, what joy it would be when November came, and he should carry his beer money' into Mr. Burt's shop; not this time to ask questions merely, but actually as a customer!

Summer had passed into autumn, and the winds were getting colder and colder. Jim watched his mother come in from her day's washing, shivering in her old shawl, with a secret satisfaction. Only a few weeks now, and she would have something to keep her warm, and in which she would look as smart as the best farmer's wife in all the country round. November had set in, and the boy eagerly counted up the days until the Saturday when his long year of waiting would be over.

And never, surely, was such a Saturday when it came! The sky showed glimpses of blue among its flying clouds; and for perhaps the first time in his life Jim noticed sudden lights flash from the polished plough-share as he turned round his team. The scent, too, from the upturned soil was that day fragrant to his senses; the sound of the flail, as he passed the open door of the barn, sounded as music in his ears. it is when we are happy, that all outward things seem to rejoice with us.

So