on his part, or of pride on that of Constance, and all would once more have been well. But so they met and so they parted!

Before they were divided, never more to meet as of old they used, chance threw in their way an opportunity for an expla nation-an opportunity which circumstance-unphilosophical circumstance again rendered abortive.

(To be continued.)

THE HOLLY.

I LOVE thee ever, first and best of trees!
That bloomest when the eye no other sees,
Last solace of the long year's flowerless death!
Hanging thy scarlet clusters o'er the breath

Of the earth's dove-white cheek, and her starr'd veil
Of icy gossamer, making glassy-pale-

I love thee dearly, where'er hangs thy bough,

On the broad hedge-row or the hill-top's brow:

I love thee round the baron's table broad:
Or by the merry hostel; or about

The heads of horses in the light, crisp road:
Or from a city-casement gleaming out :
I love thee in the cottage-'neath the beam,
And on the window-sill, where thou dost seem,
To king the faery frostwork on the pane-
Or o'er the shading mantel, sacred lain :
Or in the gleeful hands of tumbling child:
Or by thy sister-misletoe, up-pil'd
Above the goodly cheer. I love thee well
For thou of meeting friends dost blithely tell:

Old hearts made young again, and young hearts first
Into the spring-time of their manhood burst.

But better far I love thee when I know
Thou comest like a symbol in the snow.

And that thy scarlet berries hanging round,

Their pointed leaves, do bear their truth profound :
Thus hung the thorns around our Saviour's head,
And thus their fruit-with his last life-blood red.

Each flower hath its lesson, like to thee

For God hangs flowers like texts about the earth,
Would that the world might learn their love and worth!
But thou most blesséd in thy history;

"Good-will and peace" thou bringest, or thy bloom,
Garlands the altar or adorns the room;

And many a grief-dried eye, at sight of thee

Shall turn and weep o'er some sweet memory:
For through the TWELVE DAYS of thy glorious reign
Each day its own Apostle seems to prove,
And preaching peace from hovel as from fane,
Makes the world brother in its own wide love.

F. C.