[HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. See Page 14.] THE rocky ledge rans far into And on its outer point, some miles away, The lighthouse lifts its massive ma sonry, A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day. And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright, Through the deep purple of the twilight air, Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light, With strange, unearthly splendour in its glare. Not one alone; from each projecting cape, And perilous reef along the ocean's verge, Starts into life a dim, gigantic shape, Holding its lantern o'er the restless surge. Like the great giant Christopher, it stands Upon the brink of the tempestuous wave, Wading far out among the rocks and sands, The night-o'ertaken mariner to save. And the great ships sail outward and return, Bending and bowing o'er the billowy swells, And ever joyful, as they see it burn, They wave their silent welcomes and farewells. They come forth from the darkness, and their sails Gleam for a moment only in the blaze, And eager faces, as the light unveils, Gaze at the tower, and vanish while they gaze. The mariner remembers when a child, On his first voyage, he saw it fade and sink; Year after year, through all the silent night The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace; Press the great shoulders of the hurricane. "Sail on!" it says, "sail on, ye stately ships! THERE are three ways in which men take One's money from his purse, And very hard it is to tell Which of the three is worse; But all of them are bad enough You're riding out some pleasant day, It's hard to meet such pressing friends It's very hard to lose your cash, But harder to be shot; And so you take your wallet out, Though you would rather not. Perhaps you're going out to dineSome filthy creature begs; You'll hear about the cannon ball That carried off his pegs, And say it is a dreadful thing For men to lose their legs. He tells you of his starving wife, His children to be fed, Poor little lovely innocents, All clamorous for breadAnd so you kindly help to put A bachelor to bed. You're sitting on your window-seat Beneath a cloudless moon: You hear a sound, that seems to wear And nearer, nearer still, the tide Of music seems to come; There's something like a human voice, And something like a drum: You sit in speechless agony, Until your ear is numb. Drawn by A. W. BOYES. To heal the blows of sound; No! Pay the dentist when he leaves That stunned you with his paw; To turn them out of town; [BEN JONSON, born 1574, made Poet Laureate in 1619. Chiefly known as a dramatist. Died 1637.] DRINK to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise, But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I sent thee late a rosy wreath, But thou thereon didst only breathe, Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, JOHN STRONG'S BOX. be nicely cleaned by Sunday, for they are uncommon nice people; and give an excellent cup of tea, and exceedingly well-buttered toast." [Anonymous. Originally published in Hood's Magazine, the Editor of which was unable to discover the author.] THOUGH the night was cold, though the church clock had added another sixth hour to the eternity of the dead, and another unit for record on each mouldering stone, the sexton still stood with the The clerk, as he said this, looked down at the key in the churchyard gate, and kept his eye upon sleeve of his coat, and had stepped two paces forthe collar of the clerk's superfine black coat. ward, when a fat little woman, gay in a light"Lastly," said the clerk, "let the Swiggles' pew coloured bonnet, touched the coat of orthodoxy. 16-VOL. I. "Pray, sir, can you tell me at what number in the next street Mr. Swiggle, the chandler, lives?" The clerk coughed as he would have done before lecturing an unruly parish-boy, and then looked down at the inquirer. "Do you know the Swiggleses? do you take tea in the bosom of that brotherly family ? " said Swiggle. "But he has""Yes, he has," interrupted Mrs. Swiggle. "A sweetheart ?" laughed the merry landlord. "A fortune ?" inquired the poor relation. "John has got a box," roared Swiggle, putting a little of the genuine into his own tea. ""Tis certainly a money-box," thought Miss The fat little woman had a weak voice, so she Numble. faintly said, "No." 66 "It may be a deed box, fire-proof," remarked a 'I'm going there to tea. I can show you the lawyer's clerk. way. Come on." The little woman obeyed, but she had not stepped twelve little steps to the clerk's six cloisteral strides, before he stopped abruptly and looked stern, as if, like St. Peter, he was about to bind and fasten. "What are you?" "I'm Martha Dipple, sir. Zechariah, sir-that's my husband—is in the same trade as the Swiggles -the tallow and mould line, sir." The Swiggles' shop was not a shining light in the neighbourhood, for the proprietor burnt dips in stead of gas; nevertheless, beyond the shop, all looked thriving and comfortable; and by the brightness of the great brass candlestick on the staircase, or in the carpet-rods, the clerk might have trimmed his chin. Up this staircase the clerk and the little woman went; the way led by a hot-faced, tiny servant maid, just decked with two red roses fresh from the kitchen fire, for the sixteenth round had been buttered and toasted. The clerk, making a profound bow, entered the Swiggles' tea parlour; nearly the third cup was forth, and on its way. Enough of crumbs fell from portly laps beneath the table at his entrance to have fed all the ravens from sea to sea. Mrs. Swiggles put a little something genuine into her anticipated fourth cup by mistake; and Miss Numble, the poor relation, in her fright, helped herself to the plum-cake. The clerk sat down; the sixteen tea-spoons clattered again, cake and toast were between the ceiling and the floor, nipped in thirty-two thumbs and fingers, when the fat little woman, just sipping the hot cup of tea set before her, wiped her forehead, for she was nervous in company, and said— "I'm come to hear about John Strong's character; for I, and my Selina, and Dipple my husband, say as how he must be respectable." 66 Strong is an industrious, good, worthy man," replied Swiggle, putting another lump of sugar in his tea. "John is orderly, clean and pious," remarked Mrs. Swiggle. "Or the register of an improper marriage, or the evidence of a fello-de-see," mumbled the clerk. "Is it large?" asked one. "Is it round?" said another. "Is it dark or light ?" inquired a third. "I might judge by its outward signs, its inward portion," again shouted the clerk, swallowing a prawn as large as his spectacles. "No, no!" said Swiggle; "John is a worthy, honest servant, and his secret shall be kept so in my house. This is his only oddity, and no man has a right to question it. A box may be kept locked without holding a sin within it." The clerk shook his head; but, being in the middle of a slice of seed cake, he thought of the vicar, and said nothing. The little fat woman fastened up her topmost curl, and tied her hat strings, whilst she remarked, "That as John was to be one of the Dipples in eating and drinking, and sitting by the fire, every one would not do, for Selina was marriageable, and Zechariah, when out of his line, did not keep his eye in the chimney-corner." By which Mrs. Dipple meant, that Zechariah had a hobby on which he mounted very often, and rode abroad. "Take John, and take a treasure," said the good-natured Swiggle, whilst the faint-voiced little woman courtesied to all; constitutionally beginning with the church first. "I'm only sorry we're going to part; money, Mrs. Dipple, is the sole cause, for John wants more wages, and I shall have, come Lady-day, an eighth little Swiggle to bring up in the way it should go.” Mrs. Dipple was satisfied; as she stepped down the staircase, she looked into the rotundity of the brass candlestick, and resolved that John Strong and his box should find a home in Rotherhithe. Swiggle, opening the door of his office-in size a tea-tray-in contents, ledgers and wax candlesintroduced the new mistress to the new servant. John was a north-countryman of burly stature, light hair, large features, and gifted with the virtue of silence. A virtue of an expectant kind, for thought is bred by silence, and truth dwells with contemplation. He said "yes" and "no," took up his pen again, and the little woman, as she touched the handle of the door, concluded the negotiation "And is very civil when he answers the door," by saying, "Tuesday next.' whispered Miss Numble. "Follows the parson in all his responses," said the clerk. "Don't drink only half-and-half," chimed in the landlord of the "Sun," two doors off. That day was an eventful one, in the second JOHN STRONG'S BOX. floor bedroom and comfortable kitchen of Zechariah Dipple's home. It was a day of doubt and anticipative mystery, a day when "Box" was the word. "Here it will perhaps stand," said the fat little woman, as she dusted the chest of drawers in John's bedroom, and turned round to Selina, who was daintily tacking up the fresh, crisp window blinds; "or here, or perhaps under the bed, or, if it's not very large, beside his pillow, perhaps. Dr. Badger thought, when he was here this morning, that it might stand on the drawers themselves." Mother," remonstrated Selina, stepping back to see if her work was neatly done, and who, in spite of her high-bred name, was the most humble and unsuspicious-hearted little creature in the world; "don't be curious; if he be honest and faithful to my father, let him have as many boxes as a voyager that has to sail round the world. What matters it to us ?" 66 The little woman shook her head: it was clear from this that the Doctor was an important personage. A bleak March wind blew southward from the sea, and the oozy waves of the Thames rolled hoarsely against the chandler's little wharf, when a gentle hand touched the old man's arm. The little red spark in the bowl of the pipe had flickered up and died, so he dismounted, and took his child's hand, when she whispered the word " Supper." Across the old wharf they went together, gently, carefully, for the night was dark, and strange anchors, tubs, and piles of timber were strewn about. He pushed the back-door open: there was the kitchen, with its jolly rosy light, its fire, its cheerful supper. There, too, was the Doctor; there, too, was the little woman, evidently with her ear open, for Dr. Badger had just dropped the word "anatomy" from his tongue. The supper was commenced, but it was a curious one; not in the viands, for they were excellent; but for the attendant interlude, like a little byplay to a coming farce. upon 123 Her wonder it: she walked as in a dream. grew apace from the front door to the kitchen; by the kitchen table it was at a climax; like the frog in La Fontaine, it could be puffed up no more without explosion. There were other boxes at the door, but they were forgotten; they needed not the prefix of a definite article. John bowed to Selina and the doctor, and shook his honest master by the hand heartily, for a reserved and silent man, and his eye looked bright and glad as it glanced around the happy, smiling hearth. The hand of faith and the hand of honest purpose seemed heartily held forth, as much as if hand could say, Here, master, this shall honestly serve you; here, servant, this is yours in faith and belief. Old Zechariah, in despite of the doctor's desire to keep it to himself, took up a bottle of enticing Jamaica, filled a little gold-eyed glass, and held it to his own lips whilst he said, veritably smacking his lips at its prodigious flavour, "John, my man, here's a welcome to you." And John, in his turn, filled another little gold-eyed glass, and answered, "Thank ye." "Let me take your box," said the little woman, moving her glassy eyes. ""Tis heavy with- remarked the doctor, "He-m! Books!-Do you study, eh! What?divinity-mechanics-geometry "Men-a little," answered John, drily, as he took the candlestick, looked at the doctor, and asked the way to his chamber. John's heavy tramp was heard upon the staircase, his foot across the chamber floor, then all was still. "Oh! dear," exclaimed the little woman, breaking the silence; "there it is-there-it's going down by the drawers-there-there-he's opening it— and-" "Hush, mother," whispered Selina. Badger buttoned up his coat, and bowed himself from the kitchen, with a stiff" Good night." 66 "My dear," said Zechariah, when the streetdoor was closed, never let that Badger come here again." "Why, Zechariah, his pills have cured you. "Then let him take them, and cure his own spleen first before he comes here again. A little charity, Mrs. Dipple, or why do we hear godly sermons ? " John Strong's foot was heard upon the stairs, so the little woman made no answer to the old man's kindly remonstrance, but when the supper was over crept up-stairs, in a very Eveish manner, |