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knees, and the doctrinal one a-'anging to the jetty-post -on to where we men was standin'—and then off he flings 'is hat and coat and boots, and takes 'old of the rope; as though in a moment he understands all. “ Lads,
bear a hand!"
But now we crowd round 'im, saying, "Sir, you shall not go !"
With 'is own hands he fixes on the rope to 'is body, wavin' us off as we press round 'im, and then givin' one look towards the wreck, and one look-bright and quick-up to heaven, he takes a step back, and then: "Stand aside, lads!"
With a great rush everybody presses for'ard to the water's edge, and with bated breath and strainin' eyes we watch the strugglin' swimmer. Beaten, buffeted, bruised, tossed hither and thither-can he ever reach the ship? To us on shore it seems impossible. But God Himself, sir, must have filled that brave young man with strength for 'is daring deed-for see! strugglin' hard, though not so strongly as at first, for 'is limbs must be all numb and weary now, and per'aps even 'is heart is giving way-see he is getting a little nearer. Nearer still-O God support 'im! Still nearer, still a little nearer; and the poor foreign fellows on the "San Pedro are crowdin' over the side, cheerin' 'im on with wild and thankful cries.
But we on shore are silent still, for our hearts are too full for word or shout. But at last we break that silence -break it with a shout I can almost hear yet-such a "hurrah!" as I never heard afore or since-for at last the swimmer has reached the ship, and a great wave flings 'im almost on board; and we make out many
hands stretched forth to help 'im over the ship's side. The women were cryin' for joy now-aye, and many a rough fisher-chap drawed 'is sleeve across 'is eyes to brush away tears he need never ha' been ashamed of.
Well, sir, every man on that wessel, which turned out to be a London-bound Spaniard-was saved. One arter another they come ashore, and such a set-out I never did see, for if they didn't want to kiss and 'ug us as though we 'ad all been a parcel of women together.
Bruised and pale, with blood still a-trickling from a great gash in 'is head, where he must ha' struck the rocks, at last there came ashore young Parson Brown, and men, women, and chil'len, all eager to see 'is face or touch 'is hand, crowded round 'im.
'Lads," says old Cockles, "I can't say much, but what I do say is "—and he takes 'old tight o' young Brown's hand-" God bless Our Minister !"
"Hurrah!" I yells, and then, dreadful excited, I walks up to the Reverend Halgernon Sydney Crackles, and I says: "Poetry be blowed! Hurrah!"
Just then I caught sight o' that there unconwerted Tubbs. He also were laborin' under dreadful emotion, 'is little fat body a heavin', and puffin' and tremblin'. All of a sudden he starts for'ard, pantin', and makin' straight for poor Duster, he shakes 'is little fist in the gentl'man's face, and hollors-" Doctrine be blowed!"
"God bless Our Minister, Hurrah!"
That was the way we elected a parson that time, sir.
LOOKING OUT FOR ME.
TWO little busy hands patting on the window, Two laughing, bright eyes looking out at me; Two rosy-red cheeks dented with a dimple; Mother-bird is coming; baby, do you see?
Down by the lilac-bush, something white and azure,
Talking low and tenderly
To myself, as mothers will,
Two little waxen hands,
Folded soft and silently;
Two little curtained eyes,
Looking out no more for me
Two little snowy cheeks,
Two little trodder shoes,
That will never touch the floor;
Shoulder-ribbon softly twisted,
Thus He sent an answer to my earnest praying,
Two little snowy wings
Softly flutter to and fro,
Two tender angel eyes
Watch me ever earnestly
Through the loop-holes of the stars.
Baby's looking out for me.
BLESSINGS IN DISGUISE
INE eyes were stiffened with the last night's tears,
Opprest with sorrow past and future fears,
With listless hand I drew away the blind
To look where lay the morning dull and gray;
I heard no whisper of the cold night wind,
Spread like a morning veil on every hill
Hung cheerless mist, through which the dark dawn crept;
The rain-drops on the trees lay cold and still,
Sadly I turned and laid me down again
Till sorrow's leaden trance my sense did steal, As those who lulled by very strength of pain Forget their pain awhile and cease to feel.
So passed the hours away, and I awoke;
But while I slept the world had traveled onThe damp mist rolled away, the morning broke, And, pouring radiance forth, uprose the sun.
The purple hills were tinged with living light,
The grass was waving in the morning breeze,
Then my heart melted too, and the deep gloom
O God, most merciful! 'tis ever so:
While thankless man feels but the present pain, And lies steeped in the weariness of woe,
Thy step is drawing near to heal again.