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loved and reverenced him, and would by God's help follow his steps in life and death, he could have borne it all without a murmur. But that he should have gone away for ever without knowing it all, was too much to bear.”- “But am I sure that he does not know it all ?”—the thought made him start—"May he not even now be near me, in this very chapel ? If he be, am I sorrowing as he would have me sorrow-as I should wish to have sorrowed when I shall meet him
He raised himself up and looked round; and after a minute rose and walked humbly down to the lowest bench, and sat down on the very seat which he had occupied on his first Sunday at Rugby. And then the old memories rushed back again, but softened and subdued, and soothing him as he let himself be carried away by them. And he looked up at the great painted window above the altar, and remembered how when a little boy he used to try not to look through it at the elm-trees and the rooks, before the painted glass came -and the subscription for the painted glass, and the letter he wrote home for money to give to it. And there, down below, was the very name of the boy who sat on his right hand on that first day, scratched rudely in the oak paneling.
And then came the thought of all his old schoolfellows; and form after form of boys, nobler, and braver, and purer than he, rose up and seemed to rebuke him. Could he not think of them, and what they had felt and were feeling, they who had honoured and loved from the first the man whom he had taken years to know and love ? Could he not think of those yet dearer to him who was gone, who bore his name and shared his blood, and were now without a husband or a father?
Then the grief which he began to share with others became gentle and holy, and he rose up once more, and walked up the steps to the altar; and while the tears flowed freely down his cheeks, knelt down humbly and hopefully, to lay down there his share
of a burden which had proved itself too heavy for him to bear in his own strength.
Here let us leave him—where better could we leave him, than at the altar, before which he had first caught a glimpse of the glory of his birthright, and felt the drawing of the bond which links all living souls together in one brotherhood—at the grave beneath the altar of him who had opened his eyes to see that glory, and softened his heart till it could feel that bond ?
(By permission of Messrs. Macmillan.)
IN A GONDOL A.
ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.
AFLOAT, we move; delicious, ah!
Which we beneath a grateful shade
In one unbroken passage borne
How light we go, how softly skim,
How light we go, how softly skim,
THE FARMER'S WIFE AND THE GASCON.
Ar Neufchatel, in France, where they prepare
This damsel had to help her in the farm,
In fact a gaby,
Of cream like nectar,
Which if they got,
Lord Salisbury, he heaved a sigh,
His bowels yearn'd;
But on all sides his looks he turn'd,
Flew to the dairy;
Holy St. Mary !"
Upon the varlet,
" The flies!” "The flies, you rogue! the flies, you guttling dog! Behold, your whiskers still are covered thickly; Thief !-villain !- liar !-gormandizer!—hog! I'll make you tell another story quickly!" So out she bounc'd, and brought, with loud alarms,
Two stout gens-d'armes,
With angry bottle nose,
Like a red cabbage rose, While lots of white ones flourish'd on his wig ! Looking at once both stern and wise, He turn'd to the delinquent, And 'gan to question him, and catechise, As to which way the drink went ? Still the same dogged answers rise, “The flies, my Lord--the flies, the flies!" “Pshaw!" quoth the judge, half peevish and half
pompous, “Why, you're non compos! You should have watch'd the bowl, as she desired, And kill'd the flies, you stupid clown.”