But she looked in master's eyes as if askin' him, "Must

you go?"

God, I'd ha' given my life could I only ha' answered

"No."

Then as he stooped o'er the child, she opened her blue eyes

wide.

"Where are you goin', daddy? Why won't you stay?” she cried.

But he tore himself out o' her arms wi' a groan o' anguish

wild,

An' he left the dear wife watchin' alone by their dyin'

child,

He knew that his skill was useless, that her he couldn't

save,

But he thought o' those poor lost creatures out in the wind

an' wave.

He saw where his duty called him, an' went wi'out stint or

stay

To do what he could for others 'tis allus a doctor's way!
An' down through the dark we stumbled an' out o' the open

door,

An' I said in my heart-"Little missie will never be ours

But up to the box I sprang, an' away like mad we sped,
An' ever the sea kep' boomin' a song o' the wrecked an'

dead;

Over the downs we galloped, an' louder the breakers' roar Seemed to be callin', callin' "A ship's run aground at the Nore!"

While another voice was moanin' all through our bitter ride, "Where are you goin' to, daddy? Why won't you stay?"

it cried.

There! there's no call to tell 'ee all as we saw that night, The poor stark, frozen bodies, an' the fishermen dazed an'

white,

An' how he worked wi' us all, wi' his cherry voice an' will,

Till we'd carried 'em up the gully to Norman's farm on the

hill;

Worked till the sweat rolled down in spite o' the keen night

air,

As though he hadn't a sorrow eatin' his own heart there; Worked at those cold, stiff limbs, wi' his strong an' tender hands,

Till the life-blood stirred an' quivered out o' its icy bands; Worked till the still breasts trembled wi' deep an' strugglin' breath,

An' slowly their flutterin' lives came back from the jaws o' death.

Then, when the day were breakin' an' we hadn't no more to do,

We turned the hosses home'ard wi' never a word-we two. I wanted to speak to him then, but I hadn't the heart to speak,

For I saw the tears a-rollin' down my dear master's cheek. He saw where the sun were shinin' across the valley below, Right on the old house-gables, makin' 'em all aglow,

Over the roofs an' chimneys, but brightest it seemed to play On the east'ard corner window, where little missie lay. "Quick, Robbins, quick!" he whispered; an' I think the

hosses knew

How he sat wi' his heart a-breakin' as over the snow we flew.

Thud! thud! thud! rattlin' down the hill,

Roun' by the old lodge corner, faster an' faster still;

Faster; like mad they galloped, an' in at the gate we spunGod! what was that at the window ?

gone?

Was that little missie

Was it her spirit fled forth? An' could not his darlin'

wait,

Callin' for daddy, daddy, an' had we come back too late?
In through the door he rushed wi' his tear-stained face

ascare,

An' then like one in a dream I followed him up the stair;

But I stopped-for her door were open, an' there by her little bed

Master were kneelin' wi' missus! Were little missie dead? I crept a bit closer-God bless her! I heard her gentle breath

An' I knew she were sleepin' sweetly, but not the sleep o' death.

They told me all as had happened—they scarce could speak for tears.

Mates, I shall never forget it, if I live for fifty years;

'Twere after we started together, mebbe as we got to the

shore,

Missus were prayin' beside her, as she heard the tempest

roar,

An' suddenly missie looked up, an' touched her mother's

brow,

"God bless daddy," she whispered, "whatever he's doin'

now!"

An' then it seemed she grew quiet, an' laid down her pretty

head,

Drawin' her mammy's hand into her cosy bed.

An' thus, when the dawn was breakin', she fell to a sleep at

last,

So calm an' still an' peaceful, they knew that the worst was

past.

So down I went to the hosses, an' left 'um there alone,
For I knew 'twas her daddy she'd look for when her happy

sleep were done;

An' I says to myself, "God saw him out on that bitter shore,

Knew what he did an' suffered, an' all as he bravely bore;
An' if ever He sends an angel down to this earth below
To help us to do our duty, to cheer us in want or woe,

I reckon He thought o' master as he toiled wi' his careworn

face,

An' sent an angel to missie to watch in her daddie's place.

THE LAST TIME I MET LADY RUTH.

THE

OWEN MEREDITH.

HERE are some things hard to understand, O help me, Heaven, to trust in Thee! But I never shall forget her soft white hand,

It is hard to pray the very same prayer

Which once at our mother's knee we prayed-
When, where we trusted our whole heart, there
Our trust hath been betrayed.

I swear that the milk-white muslin so light
On her virgin breast, where it lay demure,
Seemed to be touched to a purer white
By the touch of a breast so pure.

I deemed her the one thing undefiled
By the air we breathe, in a world of sin;
The truest, the tenderest, purest child

A man ever trusted in!

When she blamed me (she, with her fair child's face)
That never with her to the church I went

To partake of the gospel of truth and grace,
And the Christian sacrament,

And I said I would, for her own sweet sake,
Though it was but herself I should worship there,
How that happy child's face strove to take
On its dimples a serious air!

I remember the chair she would set for me
By the flowers, when all the house was gone
To drive in the park, and I and she

Were left to be happy alone.

There she leaned her head on my knees, my Ruth,
With the primrose loose in her half-closed hands;
And I told her tales of my wandering youth

In the far, fair, foreign lands.

The last time I met her was here in town,

At a fancy ball of the Duchess of D-;

On the stairs where her husband was handing her down,
There we met and she talked to me,

She with powder in hair and patch on chin,
And I in the garb of a pilgrim priest,
And between us both, without and within,
A hundred years at least!

We talked of the house and the late long rains
And the crush at the French ambassador's ball
And well, I have not blown out my brains.
You see I can laugh, that is all.

THE CRACK-MOUTHED FAMILY.

[Care should be taken to distinguish clearly, by intonation, the various characters in the piece. The italics in the general description are also to be characterized, the context being explicit enough to indicate the modus operandi.]

HERE used to be a family living uptown, that was known for its wonderful facial ability. The father had a protruding under-jaw, and when he talked, he talked like this. The mother had a receding under-jaw, and when she talked, she talked like this.

Their only daughter met with an accident when quite small, and her mouth was drawn down on the left side, so that when she talked, she talked like this. Their son unfortunately stammered so badly that often he could not talk at all, and when he attempted to do so, his lips would move like this.

The old gentleman kept a grocery store, and the daughter