The lad had a face bright and sunny,
An' a pair of blue eyes like a girl's,
An' looks up at the scowlin' first mate, lads,
An' shakes back his long shining curls;

An' says he in a voice dear and pretty,

My step-father brought me aboard,

And hid me away down the stairs there;
For to keep me he couldn't afford.

"And he told me the big ship would take me
To Halifax town,-oh, so far!

And he said, 'Now the Lord is your father,
Who lives where the good angels are.""

"It's a lie," says the mate: "not your father,
But some of these big skulkers near,
Some milk-hearted, soft-headed sailor.
Speak up, tell the truth, d'ye hear?"

""Twarn't us," growled the tars as stood round 'em.
"What's your age?" says one of the brine.
"And your name?" says another old salt fish.
Says the small chap, "I'm Frank, just turned nine."

"Oh, my eyes!" says another bronzed seaman
To the mate, who seemed staggered hisself,
"Let him go free to old Novy Scoshy,
And I'll work out his passage myself."

"Belay!" says the mate: "shut your mouth, man! I'll sail this ere craft, bet your life,

An' I'll fit the lie on to you somehow,
As square as a fork fits a knife."

Then a-knitting his black brows with anger,
He tumbled the poor slip below:

An', says he, "P'r'aps to-morrow'll change you-
If it don't, back to England you go."

I took him some dinner, be sure, mates,-
Just think, only nine years of age!
An' next day, just as six bells tolled,

The mate brings him up from his cage.

An' he plants him before us amidships,
His eyes like two coals all a-light;

An' he says, through his teeth, mad with passion,
An' his hand lifted ready to smite,

"Tell the truth, lad, and then I'll forgive you; But the truth I will have. Speak it out.

It wasn't your father as brought you,

But some of these men here about."

Then that pair o' blue eyes, bright and winning,
Clear and shining with innocent youth,
Looks up at the mate's bushy eyebrows;

An', says he, "Sir, I've told you the truth."

'Twarn't no use; the mate didn't believe him,
Though every man else did, aboard.
With rough hand by the collar he seized him,
And cried, "You shall hang, by the Lord!"
An' he snatched his watch out of his pocket,
Just as if he'd been drawin' a knife.
"If in ten minutes more you don't speak, lad,
There's the rope, and good-by to your life."

There! you never see such a sight, mates,
As that boy with his bright pretty face,—
Proud though, and steady with courage,
Never thinking of asking for grace.

Eight minutes went by all in silence.

Says the mate then, "Speak, lad: say your say.”
His eyes slowly filling with tear-drops,
He faltering says, "May I pray?"

I'm a rough and hard old tarpa'lin
As any "blue-jacket" afloat;

But the salt water sprung to my eyes, lads,
And I felt my heart rise in my throat.

The mate kind o' trembled an' shivered,
And nodded his head in reply;
And his cheek went all white of a sudden,
And the hot light was quenched in his eye,
Though he stood like a figure of marble,
With his watch tightly grasped in his hand,
An' the passengers all still around him:
Ne'er the like was on sea or on land.

An' the little chap kneels on the deck there,
An' his hands he clasps over his breast,
As he must ha' done often at home, lads,
At night-time, when going to rest.

And soft come the first words, "Our Father,"
Low and soft from the dear baby-lip;
But, low as they were, heard like trumpet
By each true man aboard of that ship.

Every bit of that prayer, mates, he goes through,
To, "Forever and ever. Amen."

And for all the bright gold of the Indies,

I wouldn't ha' heard it again.

And, says he, when he finished, uprising
An' lifting his blue eyes above,
"Dear Lord Jesus, oh, take me to heaven,
Back again to my own mother's love!"
For a minute or two, like a magic,
We stood every man like the dead;
Then back to the mate's face comes running
The life-blood again, warm and red.

Off his feet was that lad sudden lifted,

And clasped to the mate's rugged breast ;
And his husky voice muttered "God bless you!"
As his lips to his forehead he pressed.

If the ship hadn't been a good sailer,
And gone by herself right along,

All had gone to Old Davy; for all, lads,
Was gathered 'round in that throng.

Like a man, says the mate, " God forgive me,
That ever I used you so hard.

It's myself as had ought to be strung up,
Taut and sure, to that ugly old yard."

"You believe me then?" said the youngster.
"Believe you!" He kissed him once more.
"You'd have laid down your life for the truth, lad
Believe you! From now, evermore!"

An' p'r'aps, mates, he wasn't thought much on
All that day and the rest of the trip;
P'r'aps he paid after all for his passage;
P'r'aps he wasn't the pet of the ship.

An' if that little chap ain't a model,
For all, young or old, short or tall,
And if that ain't the stuff to make men of,
Old Ben, he knows naught after all.

OUR OWN.-MARGARET E. SANGSTER.

If I had known in the morning

How wearily all the day

The words unkind

Would trouble my mind

I said when you went away,
I had been more careful, darling,
Nor given you needless pain;
But we vex our own

With look and tone

We might never take back again.

DDDD*

For though in the quiet evening
You may give me the kiss of peace,
Yet it might be

That never for me

The pain of the heart should cease.
How many go forth in the morning
That never come home at night!
And hearts have broken

For harsh words spoken,

That sorrow can ne'er set right.

We have careful thoughts for the stranger,
And smiles for the sometime guest,
But oft for "our own

The bitter tone,

66

Though we love our own" the best.
Ah, lips with the curve impatient!
Ah, brow with that look of scorn!

"Twere a cruel fate,

Were the night too late

To undo the work of morn.

PASSING UNDER THE ROD.-MARY S. B. DANA.
"Whom the Lord loveth, He chasteneth."

I saw a young bride, in her beauty and pride,
Bedeck'd in her snowy array;

And the bright flush of joy mantled high on her cheek,
And the future looked blooming and gay:

And with woman's devotion she laid her fond heart
At the shrine of idolatrous love,

And she anchor'd her hopes to this perishing earth,
By the chain which her tenderness wove.

But I saw when those heartstrings were bleeding and torn,
And the chain had been sever'd in two,

She had changed her white robes for the sables of grief,
And her bloom for the paleness of woe!

But the Healer was there, pouring balm on her heart,
And wiping the tears from her eyes,

And he strengthen'd the chain he had broken in twain,
And fasten'd it firm to the skies!

There had whisper'd a voice-'twas the voice of her God, "I love thee—I love thee-pass under the rod!”

I saw a young mother in tenderness bend

O'er the couch of her slumbering boy,

And she kiss'd the soft lips as they murmur'd her name,
While the dreamer lay smiling in joy.

Oh, sweet as the rose-bud encircled with dew,
When its fragrance is flung on the air,

So fresh and so bright to that mother he seem'd,
As he lay in his innocence there.

But I saw when she gazed on the same lovely form,
Pale as marble, and silent, and cold,

But paler and colder her beautiful boy,
And the tale of her sorrow was told!

But the Healer was there who had stricken her heart
And taken her treasure away,

To allure her to heaven he has placed it on high,

And the mourner will sweetly obey:

There had whisper'd a voice-'twas the voice of her God, "I love thee-I love thee-pass under the rod!"

I saw a fond brother, with glances of love,
Gazing down on a gentle young girl,

And she hung on his arm, and breathed soft in his ear,
As he played with each graceful curl.

Oh, he loved the sweet tones of her silvery voice,
Let her use it in sadness or glee;

And he twined his arms round her delicate form,

As she sat in the eve on his knee.

But I saw when he gazed on her death-stricken face,
And she breathed not a word in his ear,

And he clasped his arms round an icy-cold form,
And he moistened her cheek with a tear.

But the Healer was there, and he said to him thus,
"Grieve not for thy sister's short life,"

And he gave to his arms still another fair girl,
And he made her his own cherished wife!

There had whisper'd a voice-'twas the voice of his God, "I love thee-I love thee-pass under the rod!"

I saw too a father and mother who lean'd

On the arms of a dear gifted son,

And the star in the future grew bright to their gaze,
As they saw the proud place he had won:

And the fast-coming evening of life promised fair,
And its pathway grew smooth to their feet,

And the starlight of love glimmered bright at the end,
And the whispers of fancy were sweet.

And I saw them again, bending low o'er the grave,
Where their hearts' dearest hopes had been laid,
And the star had gone down in the darkness of night,
And the joy from their bosoms had fled.

But the Healer was there, and his arms were around,
And he led them with tenderest care:

And he showed them a star in the bright upper world, "Twas their star shining brilliantly there!

They had each heard a voice-'twas the voice of their God, "I love thee-I love thee-pass under the rod!"