Chapter V (5)

“‘Well, then, you see,’ said Frank, after a pause, ‘when I slipped off my irons and got into the pantry, looking for something to eat—for the rum dying in me made me as ravenous as a wolf—the thought comed into my head, somehow, to have a look at the Bluebeard-chamber, as we calls the after-cabin all along. I knowed the mates were busy on deck, and the skipper ashore—and I heers the steward go up with his dishes, afore I slipped back the slide—so, mates, I walks like a cat in a game-preserve, past the skipper’s berth, through the for’ard cabin—and lays my hand on the nob of the door between. Sure enough it were locked fast, and I outs sheath-knife to pry back the bolt—and blessed if that very minute the lock doesn’t turn from the inside. This here you see, sets me all in a tremble, and I stands still for a second, doubtin’ what to do, and more nor half a mind to go back, as the thought of this here ghost of the carpenter’s comes over me strong. Hows’iver, ‘here’s venture,’ thinks I—and in I bolts. What with the deadlights down, and something over the bulls-eyes, it were as dark as a dungeon at fust; but, as I feels my way in, somebody moves on the poop—the light shoots down in a stream—and I sees the wheel cabin pretty well, with a rack full bottles and glasses between the doors, and the two ship models we made on the fust cruise, standing on their ways, safe enough on the transom. I steps up to see what sort o’ stuff might be inside the bottles, and never sees sign of monkey, nor nothing else, ’till I give a look in a big looking-glass, when blessed if I doesn’t see the door of the starboard aftermost state-room open, and a woman in white standin’ inside, lookin’ straight at me. I slues round at this, and she gives the scream as some on you heerd—and vanishes in a jiffy. Well, mates, while I stands dumbfoundered at this, shakin’ worse nor afore, the steward comes down the companion-way like a hot shot, and shoves me back into the pantry—and away he drives agin like mad. In less than a minute he comes back, quiet enough, with a tumbler of grog in his fist—and ‘Here,’ says he, ‘take this down, and say nothin’ to nobody about a ghost at all—and I’ll lay it on the monkey.’ I nods and swallows the stuff, and makes sail back to the steerage, where the third mate comes down a minute arter, and takes off the other chap’s bracelets, and tells us all to turn to.’

“‘And now, mates,’ said he, ‘it’s all Bible truth, jist as it took place; and whether it be a ghost or no, it looked wonderful white and thin—and as much like the poor lady, as if it were her picter, full size, and done by some great painter—you know.’

“‘The Lord have mercy on us!’ exclaimed the cooper; ‘the likes of that I niver ’spected to hear in this ship. But murder will out—and haunt the cabins and the poop it’s sartain to do, as long as there’s a Jonas left aboard.’

“‘Why,’ said another, ‘I’ve a notion to cut and run from this here cussed craft to-morrow.’

“‘And lose your ile?’ suggested one fellow.

“‘And die of the cholery, among rig’lar heathens,’ said the carpenter. ‘No, no, Jack; I’ll teach you a better way nor that. Ye see, lads, while the spurrit sticks to her end of the ship—’

“Here the ship’s bell struck one, and I went aft at once. Not a soul was to be seen, though I walked up on the raised deck, and then straight down to the wheel, above which the clapper of the bell hung, without the least motion that I could perceive. I was puzzled myself, and as for the fellows in the galley, they never stirred for the ten minutes which I stood there, by the watch in the binnacle. At length, one of the boldest made shift to get as far as the mainmast, when, seeing me in my shirt-sleeves, he took fright and ran for’ard again. I then went below, more than half-inclined to leave the ship myself, from what I heard; but determined, nevertheless, to search the cabins myself, on the very first occasion before we went to sea.

“The next morning we went on bending new sails fore and aft, the captain going on shore in the canoe after breakfast.

“He had not been gone an hour, when a barge came off to the ship, with the Sultan himself, the Ouale[9] of Muscat, and a few officers of his household—among the rest my sable friend, Hadji Hemet, looking blacker than a _fetisheer_, under a new Syrian turban, with a jeweled _krungar_ hanging at his girdle, and pearls of price in his ears. Though they took us by surprise, I had the sides manned, and the ship’s guns fired, and after showing Syed Ben Seeyd down into the cabin, where, to my annoyance, the steward was not to be found, at the request of the sultan—after apologizing for the absence of the captain—I showed him and his officers through the ship. He seemed particularly interested in the examination of the instruments used in capturing the whale, and paid great attention to the construction of the boats, asking many questions through the interpreter, most of which I left the second mate to answer. When we returned to the long cabin, the steward had the doors of the after one thrown open, the decks swept, and the dead-lights up. After partaking slightly of the refreshments prepared, and making some inquiry into the amount of capital invested in the whaling interests in the United States, the party went into the after-cabin, where their attention was immediately fixed on the two ship-models on the transom. While they were examining these, I tried the doors of the state-rooms. That on the starboard aftermost side was locked, the captain, as the steward said, having the key in his possession.

“I said nothing more at the time, knowing it to be the one which Mrs. Catherton had formerly occupied, and the mulatto, by his manner, seemed quite as well satisfied to be rid of the subject. In a few moments more, the sultan and his attendants went up on the poop, when I found the ship decked out in all the flags she could muster, and the crew rigged in regular liberty trim. We gave his mightiness nine cheers and a salute of twenty guns when he left: the last sight which I saw through the smoke, being the eunuch’s black face, looming, like a fiend’s, out of the barge, from under his checked turban.

“As soon as the men shifted and turned to again, I went down into the cabins, when, lo! the doors of the after one were closed and locked as before. I thought this a good chance to fall regularly foul of the steward, when the fellow closed my mouth at once, by saying in a submissive way, that it was Captain Catherton’s orders, after his wife’s death, that the doors should be kept closed. Of course, I could say no more.

“We went on with our work aloft, and being strong-handed, after taking in a few sheep and goats, were ready to go to sea by meridian, when in the very noon-day glare and piercing heat of the sun, the Soliman Shah, the Arab corvette, changed her berth also, finding the little strait too hot for her at last, with ten deaths on board of her the night previous, and as many more new cases in her sick bay.

“However, new life seemed to have inspired our men. They worked with a will, notwithstanding that the terrific rays of the sun beaming upon the awnings, or reflected from a thousand points of the rugged rocks, made the gap like a gigantic oven. The land-wind was rising when the captain came off, and the men, in running up the boats for the night, broke out into a hearty song, the chorus of which opened the Arab’s eyes and did one’s soul good to hear, as if the prospect of getting to sea at last made them set the blue cholera itself, and all other evils which menaced the ship, at defiance. There was another meaning in this, in connection with what I had overheard the night before, which caused me to look narrowly at the face of old Charley who started the song, and those of one or two of the others, to see how far they were to be trusted, or feared at a pinch; when suddenly averting my eyes I saw that Catherton, who stood on the poop, was watching me narrowly, though he turned away the moment his eyes met mine, gazing, with a frown on his brow, from the ship to the frigate, as if something in the clamorous notes of the men displeased him. It struck me that, whatever his plans were, carrying it off in this way must seem natural enough to the Arabs, accustomed as they were to the ways of English seamen. He said nothing, however, even after listening attentively to my report of the Sultan’s visit, turning the conversation upon the plan for bringing Zuma off to the ship.

“I did not doubt but that I should be able to bring her on board, but I feared that she could not be concealed should suspicion be directed to the vessel. I had watched the faces of the sultan and his attendants as closely as I could, and remarked nothing to alarm me. Syeed’s demeanor was as mild and gracious as usual; nevertheless, knowing something of the policy in the East, I could not divest myself of the thought that we were watched. Hadji’s black face, with the wiry mustache and the checked turban over it, seemed to haunt every dark corner of the ship as the day waned. Catherton, also, could not entirely conceal his anxiety. He had been taking his grog freer than usual for the last two days, and as he was by no means what is termed a hard drinking man, this tended, as I thought, to unhinge his faculties in some degree, and give his cheek an ashy hue foreign to its natural deep bronze. He smoked incessantly, the sheroot being never out of his mouth, and his frequent change of position, when every one else felt indisposed to stir after the decks were cleared, showed a degree of restlessness which, under other circumstances, would have been hard to account for. I thought it my duty, notwithstanding, to give him another hint of the danger he was running the ship into, and choosing my opportunity, accordingly spoke out pretty plainly.

“‘I tell you, Captain Catherton,’ said I, ‘you can have no idea of the means which that accursed eunuch has of obtaining information. He has spies every where—perhaps in this very ship, and I know him too well not to feel certain that, should any of the ship’s company be found in any way implicated in the plot, you and I in less than an hour afterward would be tenants of the same dungeon, with a fair prospect of being kept prisoners for life, or perhaps put to death in some diabolical way.’

“‘Mr. Miller,’ he answered quietly, ‘I command this ship. Do you bring the woman off safely, and I’ll stake my neck on the rest.’

“And without another word he walked down into the cabin. This was decided enough, so I remained standing by the mizzen-rigging, endeavoring to forget my presentiments of evil by watching the motions of Muscat Tom, who had been cruising in the cove all day. By this time, though the sun was behind the mountains, it wanted still an hour and more of dark, when the second mate called my attention to the large flocks of birds flying confusedly in from the offing and disappearing among the rocks. A dirty, yellowish cloud suddenly obscured the air, making it still more oppressive, if possible, and causing you to wonder if the day was not nearer its end than you had deemed. The atmosphere was insufferably hot and oppressive, the little air astir coming from the land, like the breath of a furnace; you could see through the stifling gloom that the thin strips of haze were melting away from the peaks and small watch-towers in sight from our present berth: a swell, too, was getting up with the tide, and, presently, we could hear from seaward a low, indistinct, appalling sound—which every seaman knows full well—rising, stealthily, as it were, over the hum of living voices in the harbor. It was the moan of the Arabian Sea awakening from its long sleep, and the swell was the forerunner of the heavy surf which it sometimes sends in on the rocky coast, before a severe squall. All at once, as we were noting these ominous signs, the whale, with a flap of his flukes that was loudly reverberated by the rocks, threw half his length clear, and then setting his stem-propeller and side-paddles in play, commenced making an offing, slowly at first, but gradually increasing his speed, until, before he was out of sight, the water was all in a foam behind him. A moment after the gloom suddenly deepened, till Parker’s face at my elbow seemed dusky as an Indian’s—a few large drops fell upon the awning, and looking aloft we saw again, over our heads and to the north, the glaring, vivid blue sky with nothing between, as if the demon of the storm had flapped his wings at our mast-head, and then sailed swiftly away, to wreak his wrath on more defenseless heads. The land-wind, more like the breath of a flame than a current of air, coming as it did from the sandy plains of the interior, was less strong than usual; while the swell continued to rise with the tide, the water lapping with a dull splash against the whaleman’s bends, and the low, aweing, ominous sound still falling upon the ear at regular intervals.

“When the captain came on deck, while the steward was setting the table in the cabin, we got our heavy anchors all ready to let go at a moment’s warning, and secured our boats inboard, though the Arab frigate did not appear to take the alarm. In fact, Captain Catherton did not think it advisable, _under circumstances_, to send down his upper spars, while the heavy frigate rode to a single anchor, with boats towing astern, and royal yards across. As for the corvette, she was hidden in her present berth by Muscat Island.

“After supper, the land-wind died entirely away; the stars came shimmering through the blue ether; the haze settled about the granite peaks again, and, with the exception of the low, murmuring sound to seaward, and the almost imperceptible rise of the swell, the night bid fair to be as calm as the last.

“About nine in the evening I went below to get, if possible, a wink of sleep. I had strong doubts of the weather, it being now near the time for the setting in of the dry monsoon, although I thought it probable that a day or two might pass before it took a decided change, having seen the same signs prove false tokens before in this very harbor, the land-wind sometimes filling the atmosphere with minute particles of dust, and the whale regularly making a stretch to sea at sundown for fear of the currents, which here, of all coasts in the world, are the most shining and treacherous. The dust-cloud, too, might have driven the birds to cover sooner than usual, and, in fact, the only sign to be relied on was the distant moan of the sea, reaching the ear it was hard to tell how, as there was not the least flutter of a breeze to be felt. The tide, too, which rises here about six feet, was higher than usual, and what with thinking of this, and of the stories I had heard about the captain, to say nothing of the heat and the adventure before me that night, it was long before I fell asleep.

“When I awoke, I knew, if it were only by the dull glimmer of the cabin-lamp, and the capers the rats were cutting along the deck, that it must be near the hour when Captain Catherton had settled to call me himself. Looking across the cabin to his berth I saw that it was empty, and feeling sure that he was on deck, I again closed my eyes against the light. However, the mood was past for the time, and between the smell of the oil, the rats and the roaches, and the captain, as I supposed, walking the deck over my head, I found it useless to close an eyelid. So, gentlemen, I lay wide awake listening to the tramp above, as of some one in a spell of deep thought, and watching the pranks of the long-tailed gentry as they manœuvred around the stands of arms on the bulkhead, or marched in squads under the berths; the boldest of them climbing up repeatedly into the foot of mine, and plumping down again when I stirred, as if they were bent upon rousing me out for some end of their own, which, as I afterward discovered, was for free admission into a cabinet of marine curiosities, which the mate, who was dead and gone, had been collecting for some scientific gentlemen of the Granite state. Where the rats came from should have been submitted to these same savants, when, as I heard afterward, they boarded every ship which come into Bedford Bay for months after the Tartar was expected home, inquiring after their curiosity-box, then lying snugly enough at the bottom of the cove of Muscat.

[_Conclusion in our next._

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[4] Scimetars.

[5] Went down.

[6] Separated.

[7] This was only used early in the cruise.

[8] The crew of a whaleman are all on shares, or _lays_, according to their stations in the ship.

[9] Governor.

* * * * *

CARRIE.

BY LILIAN MAY.

“She hath laid her down by the crystal river,
To bathe in its waters of life forever.”

We have lain the bud of our promise down
To rest in the darksome mold,
For the light within had flickered and flown,
And the pure warm heart was cold.

Now the crisping snow lies above her head,
And low is the wind’s chill moan,
That ruffles the sheet on her narrow bed,
But the spirit afar hath flown.

The glorious dawn of immortal life
Gilds the hope of our joy above,
And the heavy grief of this bitter strife
Is sunk in the light of His love.

With a golden harp in her little hand,
An emerald crown on her brow,
She walketh the halls of the better land,
And hymneth a sweet strain now.

* * * * *

NELLY NOWLAN TO HER AUNT

AFTER HER VISIT TO A LONDON CHURCH.

BY MRS. B. C. HALL.

“My dear Aunt,—I have often longed to turn my pen to the paper, but no one, only the Almighty, knows how hurried, and bustled, and bothered I am, getting myself up to understand every thing, _or to make believe to do so_, which comes to much the same thing for a while anyhow, which I daresay you don’t understand, and so best for you, Aunt dear!

“I’m with the lady still, and likely to remain, for she’s both kind and helpless, and is well enough to do without a nurse, (she says,) though if I’m not _that_ no one ever was. She’s not fractious, poor dear! only humorsome, and does not care to stay long in one place—restless-like; I have my trials with her too in many little ways—I didn’t want her to know I could read, because she might ask me to read prayers and things contrary to my religion, but unfortunately, I said I could write, and that let her _into it_—she was ’cute enough to know that I must read _first_.

“We were a while in a place, they call it by the name of Bath; it’s a mighty unnatural city, where the _could_ water comes up out of the earth in a continued boil, and you wouldn’t see a carriage with a pair of horses in a week’s walk, for it’s the men are horses there and draw the sick creatures, that bathe in, and then drink, the hot water, up and down the hills, and you’d think it a holy place, for every second gentleman you meet is a priest or a minister; yes, indeed, they must be a mighty delicate set of gentlemen in England, for there’s a power of them in Bath. My mistress never meddles with my religion, only folds her spectacles in the Bible and leaves it in my way—but I take no notice. I can hardly expect you to believe me, but the water comes as I tell you _hot_ out of the earth; there must be a fire under it _somewhere_; but who can tell _where_ that fire is, or _who_ looks after it? The inhabitants, I’m sure, live in greater terror of an explosion than they _let on_ to the poor innocents that do be looking after their health; and maybe that’s the reason they fill up the town with the Clargy to keep all quiet; sure it’s them we send for ourselves when any thing unnatural is going on; if you mind[10] when the underground noises were heard in Castle Croft, they sent for his Reverence Father Joyce at once, and kept him ever so long about the place, and no one heard a stir of noise since! so maybe, the holy men are useful that way in Bath, to keep down the spirits of the waters in their right place.

“I told you my lady was fidgetty-like, and she very soon got tired of Bath and would come to London. Now, dear, I’ll leave it to another time to say what I’ve got to say about London—and remember, sure if I wrote for a hundred years, I could not _insense_ you into what it is, or what it is like. Aunt, it’s full up of people! underground, overground, high up, down low—people—people in misery and sin, people in plenty and pleasure; it’s never still by day or night, for at night, the very breathing of such thousands and thousands of people, is like to stifled thunder; it’s full of a pale withered-up sort of life in one place, and it is blooming like a fresh May morning only a stone’s-throw from the same, in another; it’s a city of contradictions—it’s the grandest place upon the face of the earth, if it was only for the multitudes of living immortal creatures it contains, and it’s the meanest place in the universe:—they make money out of the very scrapings of the streets!—and, bless your kind heart! it’s yourself that would be troubled to see the people driving on, and on, and on forever, without rest, and all so solid like. And, aunt, but it’s lonesome to be surrounded by such thousands of people without knowing one of them from Adam, only all black strangers, no one to bid you good morrow morning, or say, God save you; for their manners are not our manners; they’re a fine, kind-hearted people, but they’re mortal fearful you should think so. The first lodging we were in, I thought to be very kind and mannerly to the mistress of the house, and so when I met her the next day I dropped her a curtsey—and says I, ‘The top of the morning to ye, Ma’am;’ well, instead of returning my civility, she told my mistress I’d insulted her; you see they’re an unaccountable people, but it’s not _that_ I wanted to write about. Aunt, dear, I know you’re anxious about how I get on with my ‘_duty_’ and I took your advice and resolved to walk in my own way, and when I told my mistress I’d like to get leave to go to my duty, she told me she was well satisfied with the way I was going on, I was doing my duty perfectly; so I thanked her for her good opinion, but said I wanted to make a clean breast, if I could find out a proper Clergy to make it to; and then she smiled her faint, quiet smile, just for all the world like a thread of moonlight, and said, she understood now that what I meant by ‘duty,’ was going to the Priest, to confession, and gave me leave to go next Sunday to first Mass. So I got my instructions where to go and set off with a light heart. To be sure it did me good to enter a place of my own worship again, and the music was just wonderful—only they made me pay a shilling for a seat, think of that! but I’d have paid ten, if I had it—to get in, my heart warmed so. And the tears came to my eyes, when I see the fine men serving on the altar and such fine blessed candles—all wax. And the _rale_ bowing and turning; and little boys in their little albs that keeps all the saints’ days, running about the streets, the darlings, in all sorts and kinds of mischief. Oh, I was so delighted, and so thankful, and the music and the velvet, and the painted windys with the sun shining through them, and the beautiful things, put me a-past all judgment—if I could have had you there just to see what a picture it was! But by ’n by, I heard one of their reverences in the pulpit, though I was so bewildered I never saw him go there, and I said to myself, ‘Mass can’t be half over yet,’ think-it was soon for the _sarmint_[11],—and then I thought again may be it was the difference of the country, and looking round I saw all the ladies had crosses on their Prayer-books, and that set me right again, for I was sure none but ourselves would have that. Then the organ and the little boys in their little albs began again; and I was fairly transported, for never had I heard such music—not _singing-music_, but _talking-music_ it was. Oh my heart beat quick with joy, to think how I had got into the right place, and how in the very thick of a nation of heretics, there was every thing natural-like in my own faith. I cried down tears of joy, and indeed others did the same. Then another priest—a fine man intirely—got up into another pulpit, and gave us I must say a fine _sarmint_, I never could desire a better—and it’s the truth I’m telling you—he spoke of fasts, and saints, and gave out the services on next saints’ days—and reminded us of confession. Oh, aunt darling, don’t you or Father Joyce think bad of it if I say—and it’s thrue as if they were the last words I should write in this world—that no holy priest of Rome could pay greater honor to the saints than himself; or insist finer on confession and fasts, or bow with more devotion to the altar; I don’t care who gainsays it, but he was a fine man. Oh glory! says I, aint I in luck? aint I blessed? aint I happy? and I thought to myself I’d make bould to ask a fine grand ould waiting gentleman, who carried his head high, and was all over fine: I asked him where I could get spaking with any of their reverences? and he said some of _the sisters_ were in the vestry then, as they were going to change the _hour of vespers_, and, indeed, he _was_ mighty civil, and said if I wanted to ask a Christian question I might wait there, and he took me near the little room where they keep the vestments, and presently a fine, grand lady came out, and I heard her complain how she caught cold _at Matins_, and one of their reverences came out and bid her good day by the name of ‘_Sister Mary_,’ and then the grand ould waiting gentleman bustled on bowing (not to the altar, but to the lady), and called out for Lady Jane Style’s carriage. I had a great mind to call out ‘Whist,’[12] for I thought it no way to be shouting for carriages at the open door of a holy place. Well; one young priest passed, and another, backing out and making obadience to their _Shooparier_: and then came two more ladies—‘sisters,’ no doubt, and then another priest. Oh! how my heart would have warmed to them, only they seemed somehow only half way, and at last the _Shooparier_ himself came, and I thought any one could see he was the _rale_ thing; he was the very stamp and moral of Father Joyce, and no cardinal could be more stately—there was a lady, sweet-faced and gentle-looking with him, but when I fell on my knees and asked to speak with him she smiled and went on!

“He bid me stand up, and asked what I wanted.

“‘To make a clean breast, your reverence, whenever it’s convanient to you, night or day. Your time is mine, holy father, and I would not delay you long, for I’ve kep’ watch over my thoughts and actions; though, for all that, I’m a _grate_ sinner.’ I spoke as _purty_ as ever I could to the kind gentleman; well, he asked me if I wanted to be a _sister_, and I said, No—I’d no inclination for a Nunnery, good or bad; and then, ‘My good girl,’ he says—quite solid-like, ‘what is it you _do_ want?’—and something quare came over me, at the changing of his countenance; and I makes answer, ‘May be your reverence would tell me the time for giving it: and as I like to be prepared and do the thing _dacent_, would your reverence tell me the _charge for absolution_ in this town?’

“Now, aunt, I put it to you, could any thing be purtier, or fairer spoken than that? but his white cheek flushed—he turned on me in anger, only he could not hould a black look for a minute, and he says—

“‘Do you take me for one of the blind priests of Rome?’

“‘Indeed I did, sir,’ I made answer, ‘_how could I help it_?’ the words came to my lips quite natural—though my heart was beating with what I can’t tell, to think of his speaking that way of the holy fathers, and he treading as hard as ever he could on their heels—and then the look of pity he threw on me!

“‘Poor creature, poor creature,’ he says. ‘You come, I see, of a benighted race.’ Well, I was bothered. He walked gently on, and the very sweep of his coat, from head to tail, had a priestly swing with it; and then he turned back and looked at me so gently. ‘Have you been often here?’ he says. Well, I gave him another courtesy, but not so low as the others.

“‘No, sir,’ I answered, (I did not ‘your reverence’ him that time,) ‘and I wont trouble you again.’

“‘You do not trouble me,’ he says. ‘I only wish you trod in our paths.’

“‘I’d rather keep to my own, sir; and then I’ll make no mistakes.’ Well, he was a quiet gentleman, for he smiled at that. And he says again, ‘I would like to question you a little;’ and he was going on only I stopt him. ‘Question Father John Joyce, if you plaze, sir; I’ll give you his address—he always answered for me, and always will, that’s my comfort.’ And the name of my own blessed priest gave me strength. ‘He always answered for me,’ I repeated, ‘and for my people; he knows what he’s about, and will scorn to mislead any poor girl—it’s too bad, so it is, to be situated this way, that I can’t tell the differ between a holy priest and a protestant minister.’ Well, that settled him, as I thought it would; and he walks right away, and the pale beautiful lady in black, that had been leaning against a pillar like a _statute_, takes his arm; and the stout goold laced old gentleman beckons me on, not crossly. So I says, ‘Which of the sisters is that?’ And he gave a chuckle of a laugh: ‘That’s his _wife_,’ he says.

“‘Oh! holy Moses,’ says I, ‘look at that now! his wife!’ And I thought of the candles and crosses and bowings; and all the saints he ran over; and the little boys in the little albs, and every thing so like the right—and yet the wrong; ‘his _wife_, and he a PRIEST! let me out of the place,’ I says, ‘for it’s a sin and a shame; neither one thing nor another; all a delusion; let me out;’ and then I stopt. ‘Maybe he’s not a priest at all!’ I inquired, looking at the stout old gentleman, ‘and if he’s not, what is he?’

“‘I’ll tell you, young woman,’ he answers, and he makes believe to whisper; and then it came on me like a flash of lightning, that I had got into neither the one nor the other, but into a _half-way house_!

“‘And have you none of them in Ireland?’ he inquires.

“Now, aunty, dear, that bothered me as much as any thing, how that stout old gentleman knew I was Irish. I never told him so, and I am as well dressed as any English maid can be; you would not know me, (though I was always so nice,) I am so improved; and yet he says, ‘Have you none of them in Ireland?’ and I answered quite proudly, ‘_No, sir; we’ve the rale thing there!_’ and that settled _him_. I saw he was ashamed of himself, and of all the goings on—creeping, creeping toward our holy church, and yet purtending to talk of its blindness; yet we ought to be content, for if they’re let to go on as they’re going, it’s asy told where they’ll stop; _for the time’s coming_, as I heard at Moorfields, where every thing was to my satisfaction, and I found the _rale_ priest at last, though not so fine a man as our own dear Father Joyce, the heavens be his bed! and may he and the holy saints keep sin and heart-sorrow from you, my darling aunt! you who watched over me with as much as a mother’s love. It’s the spring-time now, and I often dream of the Bohreens, and the wild-bird’s song, and then again I feel as if the whole shadow of the mountain was over me like a shroud; but it isn’t long that lasts—as the song says—

“‘Hope will brighten days to come,
And memory gild the past.’”

-----

[10] Remember.

[11] Sermon.

[12] Silence.

* * * * *

A MOTHER’S PRAYER.

BY MRS. MARY G. HORSFORD.

I knelt beside a little bed,
The curtains drew away,
And ’mid the soft, white folds beheld
Two rosy sleepers lay;
The one had seen three summers smile,
And lisped her evening prayer;
The other, only one year’s shade
Was on her flaxen hair.

No sense of duties ill performed
Weighed on each heaving breast,
No weariness of work-day care
Disturbed their tranquil rest:
The stars to them, as yet, were in
The reach of baby hand,
Temptation, trial, grief, strange words
They could not understand.

But in the coming years I saw
The turbulence of Life
O’erwhelm this calm of innocence
With melancholy strife.
“From all the foes that lurk without,
From feebleness within,
What sov’reign guard from Heaven,” I asked,
“Will strong beseeching win?”

Then to my soul a vision came
Illuming, cheering all,
Of him who stood with shining front
On Dothan’s ancient wall;[13]
And while his servant’s heart grew faint,
As he beheld with fear
The Syrian host encompassing
The city far and near.

With lofty confidence to his
Sad questionings replied—
“Those armies are outnumbered far
By legions at our side!”
Then up from starry sphere to sphere
Was borne the prophet’s prayer,
“Unfold to his blind sight, oh, God!
Thy glorious hosts and fair.”

The servant’s eyes, bewildered, gazed
On chariots of fire,
On seraphs clad in mails of light,
Resistless in their ire;
On ranks of angels marshaled close,
Where trackless comets run,
On silver shields and rainbow wings
Outspread before the sun.

I saw the Syrian bands ere noon
Led captive through the land,
And longed to grasp the prophet’s robe
Within my feeble hand,
While my whole soul went out in deep
And passionate appeal,
That faith like his might set within
My babes’ pure hearts its seal.

-----

[13] 2 Kings, 6th chapter, 14-18 verses.

* * * * *

THE FIRST AGE.

By H. DIDIMUS.

(_Continued from page 360._)

BOOK THIRD.