Then saw I rising slowly up

Behind the eastern low,

A champion, clad in silver mail,

And breast and brow were ghastly pale-
Even as Atlas snow,

And all the pure, crisp icy world
Flashed back the glittering wonder,
And looked up at the great white face
That cleft the dark asunder.

His pennon flew like a thunder cloud
(When the angry winds are piping loud
From deep to deep,)

Above the warrior's helmed head

In billowy sweep.

His uttermost form in the shadowing south Hung cloud-fringed to the view;

Azure and black

Were his corselet and jack,

And his plume the stars shone through;

There liveth none might cope with him

Save he of the burning brow;

And ever those two champions ride

In solemn silence past,

And neither knight may meet his foe
The whiles the world shall last.

A NATURE PRAYER.-I. EDGAR JONEL

Oh, birds that sing such thankful psalms, Rebuking human fretting,

Teach us your secret of content;

Your science of forgetting.
For every life must have its ills,-
You, too, have times of sorrow;
Teach us, like you, to lay them by
And sing again to-morrow;
For gems of blackest jet may rest
Within a golden setting,

And he is wise who understands
The science of forgetting.

Oh, palms that bow before the gale
Until its peaceful ending,

Teach us your yielding, linked with strength,
Your graceful art of bending;
For every tree must meet the storm,

Each heart encounter sorrow;
Teach us, like you, to bow, that we

May stand erect to-morrow;

For there is strength in humble grace-
Its wise disciples shielding-
And he is strong who understands
The happy art of yielding.

Oh, brooks which laugh all night, all day,
With voice of sweet seduction,
Teach us your art of laughing more

At every new obstruction;

For every life has eddies deep

And rapids fiercely dashing,

Sometimes through gloomy caverns forced, Sometimes in sunlight flashing;

Yet there is wisdom in your way,

Your laughing waves and wimples;
Teach us your gospel, built of smiles,
The secret of your dimples.

Oh, oaks that stand in forest ranks,
Tail, strong, erect and sightly,

Your branches arched in noblest grace,
Your leaflets laughing lightly;
Teach us your firm and quiet strength,
Your secrets of extraction

From slimy darkness in the soil

The grace of life and action;
For they are rich who understand
The secret of combining

The good deep hidden in the earth
With that where suns are shining.

Oh, myriad forms of earth and air,
Of lake, and sea, and river,

Which make our landscapes glad and fair
To glorify the giver;

Teach us to learn the lessons hid

In each familiar feature,

The mystery which so perfects

Each low or lofty creature;

For God is good, and life is sweet,
While suns are brightly shining
To glad the glooms, and thus rebuke
Our follies of repining.

Each night is followed by its day,
Each storm by fairer weather,
While all the works of nature sing
Their psalms of joy together.
Then learn, O heart, their songs of hope!
Cease, soul, thy thankless sorrow;
For though the clouds be dark to-day,
The sun shall shine to-morrow.
Learn well from bird and tree and rill
The sins of dark resentment,

And know the greatest gift of God
Is faith and sweet contentment.

HOW MR. SMIGGLES WENT TO A PUBLIC DINNER.-E. F. TURNER.

A dress-suit of faultless cut; a pair of patent leather boots, the brightness whereof was dazzling in the extreme; a shirt-front of snowy, a collar of snowier, and a tie of snowiest whiteness; a hat which, when its services were not required, would, on being gently pressed at the top, cease to be a hat, and resolve itself into a something which might be sat upon, or squeezed, or dropped, or assaulted in any manner whatsoever, without sustaining the smallest injury. These various elements, united in one, constituted the outside of Mr. Ferdinand Smiggles as he started from home on that eventful evening.

He was what you might style a mild-looking person. He had a small body, and a large, fat, smooth, sleek face, upon the left cheek of which had appeared seven years previously a something very like a Brussels sprout (only that it was straw-colored and not green), which he designated his "whiskers." He had been waiting ever since for a similar eruption to take place on his right cheek, as one who waited for the millennium.

On this occasion Mr. Smiggles looked unusually animated and important. And not without cause, indeed. For he was going out to dinner,--not a mere everyday dinner-party, where Mr. Smith would take Mrs. Brown in to dinner, while Mr. Brown was doing the same kind office for Mrs. Smith. No, indeed; but to a grand public dinner, a dinner given in honor of that great man Sir Spratby Haddock.

This more than lion of the hour-this lion and tiger, and Polar bear, with a hippopotamus thrown in-had done something of such profound service to the country (I don't quite know what it was, but I think it was an improvement in the art of skinning eels) that two hundred and fifty of his admirers had agreed to eat two hundred and fifty very rich, unwholesome, and expensive dinners for the privilege and glory of seeing Sir Spratby Haddock submit himself to the same operation.

The circumstances which enrolled Mr. Smiggles in the band were these. He had an acquaintance, by name Barnaby Blazes, a captain in the Royal Navy. Now Captain Barnaby Blazes, R. N., being interested in the skinning of eels, had obtained a ticket for the banquet, but unable at the last moment to go, he had presented it to Mr. Smiggles, who was only too proud to take his place. Behold him then triumphantly journeying to the scene of action in a hansom cab, and behold him ten minutes after his arrival devouring turtle soup with his mouth and Sir Spratby Haddock with his eyes!

Then leaving him for one minute thus pleasantly occupied, let us listen to a hurried conversation carried on in an undertone between the chairman and a member of the committee.

"Who is there to return thanks for the Army, Navy, and Volunteers?" asked the chairman.

"The name of Captain B. Blazes, R. N. is on the list," replied the member of the committee; "you had better call on him."

"Do you know where he's sitting?" continued the chairman.

"I don't know him even by sight," said the committeeman, looking down a list which he took out of his pocket; "but I see that his seat is No. 13 on the lefthand side down the table, so, counting the numbers on that side, it must be that man with the fat face and big white choker," and therewith the committee-man pointed at our unconscious friend, Mr. Smiggles.

66

"All right," said the chairman, "I see the man you mean," and with a nod of mutual understanding, the conference ended.

Dear me, what a grand dinner it was! Dish followed dish, and course followed course! Champagne corks were popping away with all the force of musketry, and nearly as much noise; while from the assembled company there arose the indescribable hubbub which is produced when a large number of people eat and drink and talk as hard as they can at one and the same moment. The soul of Mr. Smiggles expanded with pleasure and enjoyment.

He had never before seen either the gentleman who sat on his right, or the gentleman who sat on his left; but before many courses had been completed, he had vowed eternal friendship with the former, and called the latter "old boy" three times.

The dinner at last gave way to dessert, and to the business of the evening,--the health drinking and speech making.

First, of course, there was the toast of the Queen, and then of the Prince and Princess of Wales, and all the Royal Family.

Then came the Army, Navy and Volunteers. Time forces me to pass over the glowing terms in which the chairman referred to the army, and to come at once to an event fraught with stupendous consequences to Mr. Smiggles.