And I galloped and I galloped on my palfrey white as milk, My robe was of the sea-green woof, my serk was of the silk;

My hair was golden-yellow, and it floated to my shoe;

My eyes were like two harebells bathed in little drops of dew; My palfrey, never stopping, made a music sweetly blent

With the leaves of autumn dropping all around me as I went; And I heard the bells, grown fainter, far behind me peal and play, Fainter, fainter, fainter, till they seemed to die away;

And beside a silver runnel, on a little

heap of sand,

He kissed me once, he kissed me twice, I could not stir or speak;

He kissed me twice, he kissed me thrice; but when he kissed again, I called aloud upon the name of Him who died for men.

Sing, sing! ring, ring! pleasant Sabbath bells!

Chime, rhyme! chime, rhyme! through dales and dells!

Rhyme, ring! chime, sing! pleasant Sabbath bells!

Chime, sing! rhyme, ring! over fields and fells!

O faintly, faintly, faintly, calling men and maids to pray,

So faintly, faintly, faintly rang the bells far away;

And as I named the Blessed Name, as in our need we can,

The ugly green gnome became a tall and comely man:

His hands were white, his beard was gold, his eyes were black as sloes, His tunic was of scarlet woof, and silken were his hose;

A

His

pensive light from faëryland still linvoice was like the running brook gered on his cheek, when he began to speak: "O, you have cast away the charm my step-dame put on me, Seven years have I dwelt in Faëryland, and you have set me free. O, I will mount thy palfrey white, and

ride to kirk with thee,

And, by those dewy little eyes, we twain

will wedded be!"

bath bells!

Chime, sing! rhyme, ring! over fields

and fells!

E. C. STEDMAN.

[U. S. A.]

THE DOORSTEP.

THE Conference-meeting through at last,
We boys around the vestry waited
To see the girls come tripping past,
Like snowbirds willing to be mated.

Not braver he that leaps the wall

By level musket-flashes litten, Than I, who stepped before them all, Who longed to see me get the mitten.

But no; she blushed, and took my arm! We let the old folks have the highway, And started toward the Maple Farm Along a kind of lover's by-way.

I can't remember what we said,

'T was nothing worth a song or story, Yet that rude path by which we sped Seemed all transformed, and in a glory.

The snow was crisp beneath our feet, The moon was full, the fields were gleaming;

By hood and tippet sheltered sweet, Her face with youth and health was beaming.

The little hand outside her muff—
O sculptor, if you could but mould it!-
So lightly touched my jacket-cuff,

To keep it warm I had to hold it.

To have her with me there alone, 'T was love and fear and triumph blended.

At last we reached the foot-worn stone Where that delicious journey ended.

The old folks, too, were almost home; Her dimpled hand the latches fingered, We heard the voices nearer come,

Yet on the doorstep still we lingered.

And with a "Thank you, Ned," dissembled ;

But yet I knew she understood

With what a daring wish I trembled.

Each movement of the swaying lamp
Shows how the vessel reels,
And o'er her deck the billows tramp,
And all her timbers strain and cramp
With every shock she feels;

It starts and shudders, while it burns,
And in its hingéd socket turns.

Now swinging slow, and slanting low,
It almost level lies:

And yet I know, while to and fro
I watch the seeming pendule go

With restless fall and rise,
The steady shaft is still upright,
Poising its little globe of light.

O hand of God! O lamp of peace!
O promise of my soul!

Though weak and tossed, and ill at ease
Amid the roar of smiting seas,

The ship's convulsive roll,
I own, with love and tender awe,
Yon perfect type of faith and law.

A heavenly trust my spirit calms, -
My soul is filled with light;
The ocean sings his solemn psalms;
The wild winds chant; I cross my palms;
Happy, as if to-night,
Under the cottage roof again,

I heard the soothing summer rain.

ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN (FLORENCE PERCY).

[U. S. A.]

IN THE DEFENCES.

AT WASHINGTON.

ALONG the ramparts which surround the town

I walk with evening, marking all the while

How night and autumn, closing softly down,

Leave on the land a blessing and a smile.

In the broad streets the sounds of tumult cease,

The gorgeous sunset reddens roof and spire,

The city sinks to quietude and peace,

Sleeping, like Saturn, in a ring of fire;

Circled with forts, whose grim and threatening walls

Frown black with cannon, whose abated breath

Waits the command to send the fatal balls Upon their errands of dismay and death.

And see, directing, guiding, silently Flash from afar the mystic signal-lights, As gleamed the fiery pillar in the sky Leading by night the wandering Israelites.

The earthworks, draped with summer weeds and vines,

The rifle-pits, half hid with tangled briers,

But wait their time; for see, along the lines

Rise the faint smokes of lonesome picket-fires,

Where sturdy sentinels on silent beat Cheat the long hours of wakeful lone

liness

With thoughts of home, and faces dear and sweet,

And, on the edge of danger, dream of bliss.

Yet at a word, how wild and fierce a change Would rend and startle all the earth and skies

With blinding glare, and noises dread and strange,

And shrieks, and shouts, and deathly agonies.

The wide-mouthed guns would war, and hissing shells

Would pierce the shuddering sky with fiery thrills,

The battle rage and roll in thunderous swells,

And war's fierce anguish shake the solid hills.

But now how tranquilly the golden gloom Creeps up the gorgeous forest-slopes, and flows.

Down valleys blue with fringy asterbloom,

An atmosphere of safety and repose.