TWO THANKSGIVINGS.

"DEAR Robin: Your letter is received, accusing me of heartlessness, and announc ing your possible journey to the Far West. lam all repentance, dear—l think I have treated you shamefully, and I am sorry tor it Ido not know why it is that a woman takes pleasure in teasing the man she loves. For I do love you, dear Rohin, tho' I never told you so before—and I will answer that nueation you have so often asked me in a manner satisfactory to you, if you will come back to us. lam to spend Thanksgiving Day with your family, and we shall expect you. Your naughty, repentant Alt A." ' Alta Rivera read the n»tc over, Mushing a soft rose colour as she did so. " I wonder if it is too bold—too unwomanly," she mused, as she sealed and addressed it. "It says things so plainly—but then I have been so tantalizing all these years, and Robin has been so tender and faithful and persevering, that I think he deserves a little frankness from mo now. And it will make such a happy Thanksgiving for us all." "Hurry up Alta — I'm late starting already," called the voice of Farmer Boyd, Robin's father, at the door. And Alta ran out, pressing the postage stamp down with her little, pink thumb as she wont, and handed tho letter to Mr Boyd, who slipped it into tho sidepocket of his coat, and etrir ruped to his horses. "Don't fail to post it," called Alta after him, and he looked back and nodded, and touched the rear horse with the whip and was gone. And Alta went back [into the house singing, in a sweet voice,

" What made the ball so fine? Robin was there— What made tho assembly shine Kobin Adair." She went out into the great kitchen where three women, one a middle-aged matron, and two young girls, were busily employed at various tasks. One churning, one kneading bread, and one putting away the dishes which Alta had helped her to wash. '' I must go now," she said, '' auntie told me to he sure and come home early this morning, but she knows I never do get away from here early. It is just the hardest tiling in the world to leave this house. It is so like homo."

"Well, you'll surely come over next week, and help us prepare for Thanksgiving 1" Mrs Boyd said. "0, yes; and auntie, too. Well all turn in, and make the day a ''rand success." Mrs Boyd sighed. "If Robin would only come," she said. " But i£ lie goes West, it will just spoil the day for inc." And she cast a somewhat reproachful look at Alta. Alta blushed and smiled. "I do not think he will go West," she said. "Indeed, lam very sure he will not. He will come home, and we will have the very nicest Thanksgiving this old house ever beheld. By-by." And with a light nod and smile Alta took her departure. " I wish I knew just how things stood between her an' Robin," mused Mrs Boyd, as she ladled out her butter into a tray of water. "Don't she ever talk to you girls about him "

"Not often," answered Anna, the elder, Alta'» intimate "chum." "Never says anything that gives .a body any idea of how matters arc between them, leastways. But she said this morning that Robin should not go West if she could do anything to hinder it"

"And I think she wrote to him this morning, too," spoke up Jane, the younger girl. "Because, just before she sat down to write she aeked me if Allanville was spelled en or an—said she'd forgotten." " Well, I do hope everything is all right," sighed Airs Boyd, spatting the butter into round balls of gold, "for a better girl, or a neater or handier girl never Jived than Alta Rivers. And it does seem as if she an' Robin were born for each other. And he's never looked at any other girl since he wai out of frocks but her, unless he lias uince he went to Allanville. And it's my opinion that fcthe only thing that's settin' his mind on the West is his bein' sort of discouraged about gettin' Alta, [so many other fellows are after her now."

Alta Rivers was the sweetest girl in all the country side about the little Massachu setts village of Perry town. An orphan since childhood, she had heen reared iv her uncle's family, with a house full of noisy boy cousins. She was by nature endowed with grace, and an attractiveness that passed for beauty, and under her aunt's careful and rigid tuition she had become a skilled cook and an accomplished seam stress. Besides this she sang sweetly, and had learned enough of music to play the organ at the village church. No wonder then ourfair Alta was the favourite of young and old, and that her hand was sought in marriage by' more than one admiring swain.

But while Alta was an arrant coquette by nature, her heart was true as steel to her first and only love—her childhood's play mate and girlhood's companion, Kobin Boyd. He had been her lover ever since she could remember; and she hajl alter nately smiled upon and tormented him until he went away to Allanville, a hundred miles distant, to learn telegraphing. He had been gone eight months now, and had visited home once in the time, and he found Alta so besieged by attentive youths after church and Sunday school that he had little chance to get a word with her, and though she was all sweetness while he stayed, he went back to Allanville with a very heavy heart indeed. Alta was a very delinquent correspon dent, and it was precious little comfort Kobin gained from her letters. And one day, when he had the offer of a better sit uation if he would go to Wisconsin, he sat down and wrote to Alta.

"I am discouraged of ever succeedinc in my dearest hopes," he wrote, "and I think the farther away I go the better for both of its. You refuse to answer my plea for a formal engagement, you laugh at my love for you, and I begin to think you are al most heartless. I have loved you well and long, Alta, but there is a limit to patience. I had expected to go home Thanksgiving, and be with you all again, but if I acceut this situation I shall go West very soon." This is the letter which had caused Alta to write so tender a reply. The letter she read again on her return home that morn ing aud smiled ovet it, thinking the writer's mood would change in a few hours, on receipt of her reply. "It is odd," she mused, "how such a little simple thing like me has the power to make miserable or make happy such a great, splendid, elegant fellow like Itobin." The days went by, and it was the week before Thanksgiving. Alta had received no reply to her letter, which disappointed her a little, but she went over to the Boyds and helped them make ready for the day with a light heart. And a thousand iimes she pictured to herself the meeting between herself and Robin, and the happy day that would follow liis coming. She went over quite early the evening before Thanksgiving The girls had asked her to come and stay overnight with them, as she frequently did, and then she would be there to'help lay tables and make all and make all necessary preparations in the morning. Her uncle's family would come orer to dinner, boys and all, for her oldest cousin was Anna Boyd's lover, and thus it was quite like a united' family.

The train from Allanvillc arrived at 7 p.m. daily. Alta went over to Boyd's be fore C, arrayed in her mast becoming robes. Her brown eyes were all aglow, and rich colour bloomea in her cheeks. Robin had not written, and therefore she was quite confident lie was coming on the evening train, and her heart beat fast and high as she walked up the pathway to the door he would so soon enter.

" What, when the play was o'er. What made my heart so sore, 0 ! it was parting from Robin Adair.' She sang as she opened the side door with out rapping, and then the song died on her lips. For there sat Mrs Boyd weeping bitterly, and both the girls looking as if they had just returned from a funeral. " Why, what is the matter ? " cried Alta. " What has happened. ?" Mrs Boyd continued to weep, but Anna answered, choking back a sob : "Robin's gone west." Alta felt as if a cold hand had clutched her heart. "Gone West?" she repeated, "when?"

"He started last night. We have just received the telegram. He says we will get a letter to-night. "Ithas just ruined our whole Thanks giving," Mrs Boyd sobbed, "I wish I could go off by myself and lock the door, and not see a human being all day. That's how I would like to spend my Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving, indeed,"with my only bpy, whom I have not seen for months, being borne further and further away where I may never see him again." Alta felt a response in her heart to every word Mrs Boyd uttered, but she was too dazed to speak. What did it mean—why had he gone ? Something over an hour later the evening mail was brought in, and Mrs Boyd eagerly seized upon Robin's letter. It was written an hour before his departure. " I have juat decided to accept the situa tion ottered me a month ago," he wrote, " and I start to-night. I have kept wait ing, thinking something would turn up that would help me te decide, and now I have decided. The West is the place for young men. lam sorry not to be with you at the Thanksgiving dinner, but I hope you will all think of mo with loving thoughts. I will write soon. -Robin."

Alta listened with strained nerves. So lie had really gone —gone without a word to her Gone in spite of her tender letter, which made the burning blushes of shame rise to her cheeks now, as she recalled it.

" He is going to humiliate me all he can," she thought bitterly, " to punish me for my treatment of him. O, Robin, Robin ! I did not think that of you." It was a night Alta will never forget to her dying day. Not one moment of forget fulncss came to her tortured brain and heart all tl;e night long. She lay awake, and perfectly motionless, till the gray November dawn peered tlirongh the win dow—awake, with her heart suffering its first cruel, blinding pain. Not a tear came to relieve her, not a sound escaped her lips. She just lay still and silent, and suffered. "I don't believe you even turned orer once last night," Anna, whosebed she had shared, said to her in the morning. "You must have slept very sound, as for me I slept very little tliinking of Robin." Alta had heard her quiet breathing all right Jong. The terrible day had dawned—the day that stretched before Alta like the dreary waste of a burning desert to a fainting pil grim. "How will I ever get through it," she moaned—when all alone by herself—" how can I meet the faces of all these people, and know that his is turned from me in bitter ness and scorn ? How can I endure the horror and loneliness of this day that I have so eagerly anticipated^? O, Robin ! you planned your revenge well—waiting as you did, until the very hour you knew I would expect you, before you struck the blow. 0, it is cruel—cruel." And then the poor child buried her face in her hands, and sobbed aloud. It was a terrible day. Mr Boyd's tears and sighs', the clatter of dishes, the mono tonous conversation of Mrs Boyd and her uncle, the noisy mirth of her cousins, to gether with her slcolcss night and her awful heartache, succeeded iv giving Alta a blinding headache. But she attended to her dutifs, and in sisted upon waiting upon the table to con ceal the fact that she, herself, could not taste a mouthful of anything—and tried to be natural and cheerful. And when they all gathered in the sitting-room after din ner, and Mrs Boyd asked her to sing, and her uncle said : "Yes, Alta, sing us Kobin Adair— that's the prettiest piece you sing," she sat down at the little oigan and began :

What's the dull town to me, Robin's not near. He whom I wish to sec, Wish so to hear.

The sweet tremulous voice could go no further. She broke into a storm of tears and left the room, Anna following, tender hearted Anna, whom love had nsade wise to understand.

"Why, bless ray soul, what ailed the child!" cried Mr Boyd, wiping his spec tacles and replacing them as if ho now ex pected to see through this mystery. Anna, returning alone, just then ex plained. " Alta nas had a bad headache all day, but has refrained from speaking of it lest she should mar our enjoyment. But the sound of her own voice made it much worse, and I have sent her home, where it will be quiet and she can rest. She is all tired out"

Yes, Alta had gone home, with her torturing thoughts following her like grey hounds at every step. She had left there so light-hcartid only the day before; already she seemed years older. The desolation and horror of the days that followed, it seemed to her she could not bear. But she did bear them for weeks and months. She battled bravely with the pain that often seemed like some creature gnawing at her very heart's core. She pursued her duties, she played at church, she attended the neighbouring gatherings as of old, but all of life seemed so changed. There was an emptiness in everything—a ghastly lack, that taught her day by day more and more how much she had cared for the one who was gone. And though she smiled and chatted as brightly as of old, she too changed. "Alta Rivers is fading," some said. Others, "Alta Kivers seemed changed of late—she is handsomer than ever, I think, but somehow she is a different girl—older, graver." Something had gone out of her face—out of her life. The old girlish carelessness, and joy in simple existence, and the old spirit of coquetry, had gone for ever. But a strength, a womanliness, a pathos, that comes only from acquaintance with sharp pain, had come in their place. Something always comes to replace that which goes. Something as much better, as the years are sadder, usually, too. When the next year came about, Thanksgiving Day was celebrated by a wedding, Anna Boyd and Silas Rivers being bride and groom. It was as cheerful a gathering as can attend so sad an occasion as a wedding, and Alta thanked heaven for the calm and peace which had come to her turbulent heart since the last wretched Thanksgiving Day. But the old wound ached anew as she recalled the events of that day.

Robin was still West, and though he wrote home often, he had never mentioned her name, nor did he speak of visiting home.

And so another year went by, and ajjain it was the day before Thanksgiving, Again Alta was sitting in the great kitchen of the Boyd mansion, lending useful hands to help the domestic machinery running. Great preparations were in progress, for distant relatives were expected, and Anna was coming home with her month-old baby. "Bless me, how things do change," mused Mrs Boyd. "Here's Jane, a great tall girl, bigger 'n her mother, that two years ago was in her short dresses, and Anna with a baby—but you stay just the same, Alta. I wonder why in the world you don't get married. There's Rufus Hol clen's been tagging after you night and day, and I should think you would take him by and by, just to get rid of him. Ain't you most afraid of being an old maid if you are too particular I" "Ohl" cried Alta, "I have burned my hand with this holder." She was ironing some napkins aud table-cloths near the window.

"Ned, I know somebody would get burned with that old holder," Mrs Boyd responded. " And now let's not go another hour without some new holders. .Line, go and bring that old coat of your father's, that hangs uji garret. The quilted lining is just the thing." A moment later Jane was busily at work ripping out the lining of quiltoit farmer's satin. Something white fluttered to the floor, " What's this," she said, and picked up a letter. " Mr Robert R. Boyd, Allanville, Mass.," she read, and there was a cry from Alta, who snatched the crumpled letter from her hand, stared at it a moment with wild eyes, and then sank down on the floor all in a little white heap. "It's the letter she gave father to mail two years ago," whispered Jane to her mother, as they dashed cold water in Alta's white face, and rubbed her hands. "Yon remember that morning she asked how Allanville was spelled ?—I begin to see through everything now." "And I begin to think that all men are blazin'fools," responded Mrs Boyd, "to gether with Robin's flying off on such a tangent, and your father's forgettin' which way his head is on." "What's that about me?" queried Mr Boyd, who had just entered, "and what ails Altai"

"You'dbetter askl" Mrs Boyd retorted savagely. "Just look at that, will youj" and she thrust the letter up into his face. "We fouml that in your old coat." Mr I'oyd wiped his spectacles, and gazed long ami earnestly at the innocent-looking missive.

" Mess my soul!" he ejaculated at last. " I never thought to post that child's letter, did I? "Well, well, well," and then he discreetly walked out of the house. When Alta recovered her consciousness she was led into a cosy room, and told to lie down upon the lounge, and Jane sat by her, and stroked her hands and brow gently, till she fell asleep, and then came out and closed the door.

And just as she came out some one came in the outer door. Somebody who was very tall and very brown, with laughing eyes and a wonderful moustache; and he caught Jane in his arms ami nearly smothered her, and quite took away his mother's breath, for it was Robin, who had come home to Thanksgiving. After the greetings were over, Jane went up behind his chair and slipped something into his hand,

We found this in the lining of an old coat of fathei's to-day," she whispered. "He forgot to mail it to you two years ago." And Robin broke the seal wonilcvingly, and read with bated breath and Hushing cheeks, and then he seized his hat and was plunging for the door, when Jane took him by the hand, smiling, and led hint toward the little room which he had just quitted.

"This way," she snid, and opened the door and gently pushed him in. She heard a smothered cry of "Alia— Robin." And .then the sympathetic Jane threw her apron over her head and ran sobbing, with very joy, out of the room. And such a happy, happy household, as gathered together the following day, and such thansgivings ai were offered up from two reunited hearts. And when Robin went back to Wisconsin he did not go alone, but he took a fair and radiant bride with him.

" Never mind the dresses," he had said, when Alta pleaded her want of preparation. "I do not propose to trust my happiness again to the mails—or rather to the linings of father's old coats. I propose to take my happiness. I have had enough of suspense and misery." And that was how such a hasty wedding took place, and how the gossips had a chance to say that Alta Rivers was married in a dress she'd worn to mectin' six months !

The Princess of Wales on Encou ragement to Home Manu factures.

THE Princess o£ Wales has been asked to become a patroness of the Association for Encouraging the British Woollen Indus tries, but for the reasons stated in the letter of her private secretary, Mr Holzmann, she has felt obliged to decline to give her name to the society : — " Marlborough-housc, Pall-mall, July 22. "Mr M, Holzmann presents his comnli mcuts to Lady Ilchester, and in reply to her letter of the 19th inst. begs to inform her that he has laid it with it' enclosures before her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales. The question of the present depression of the wool trade had already been brought to the notice of her Royal Highness by the Associated Chambers of Agriculture, and had then been most carefully inquired into. Mr Holzmann therefore begs to enclose a copy of the memorial addressed to the Princess of Wales and of the answer which was returned to it. By her Royal High ness's command, Mr Holzmann will, how ever, state to Lady Ilchester some of the principal considerations which, to her Royal Highness's regret, prevent her from joining the association of ladies on whose behalf Lady Ilchester has written, although from the complicated nature of the question Mr Holzmann is afraid that it can hardly be done properly without exceeding the limits of a letter.

"The main reason of the depreciated value of wool in its raw state is the enor mous importation of colonial wools ; and, as colonial sheep-fanning has by no means reached its highest development yet, it is to be apprehended that this cause must con tinue to act injuriously to the British wool grower. It could be removed only by a prohibition of the free importation of wool, a measure to whicli the great majority of the nation would never consent.

" If the importation of the manufactured article has considerably increased during the last 20 years, it oujjht not to be over looked that, side by side with the rapid growth of wealth and population, the quan tity of woollen fabrics made in this country has also risen very largely. The check which has manifestedjtself during the last few years has been experienced in nearly all other branches of trade and industry. It ought to be remembered, also, that a large

proportion of the imported goods is actually the product of the raw material bought in the London market. That the foreigners, in spite of the disadvantage of greater cost of carriage, have thus been able to compete to some extent successfully with the home manufacturers is by competent authorities stated to be owing to the cheapness of labour abroad, and to the former's enter prise in adapting their machinery more readily to the varying taste of the public. But the actual depression in the wool tnule, as far as the manufacturers are concerned, is caused in a very slight degree only by foreign competition at home, and almost entirely by the obstacles raised against the export of British fabrics through the imposi tion of protective duties in other countries. In the United Kingdom the decrease of the home-made worsted manufactures affects in reality only one kind, that of the so-called ' lustre-wool,' while the consumption of the rougher woollen stuffs has of late been widely extended through all classes of the population. "It is extremely doubtful, therefore, whether the association got up by Lady Beetive and others could succeed beyond conferring an advantage on the growers and manufacturers of long-haired wool, to the detriment of the producers of other kinds of wool. But, assuming for a moment that all the propositions put forward in the circulars of the association were well founded, and that its promoters were to achieve the de sired success of raising the price of home grown wool to its former height, it is evident that the cost of woollen fabrics would thereby be nearly doubled, to the in evitable injury of the many millions of people who use them. The whole question would then resolve itself into a conflict between consumers and producers. Al though the efforts of the latter to protect their interests may be perfectly legitimate, it is impossible for the Princess of Wales, having regard to the public position occu pied by her Royal Highness, to take such a prominent part in a contest between differ ent classes of the population as would be assumed by her if her I loyal Highness were to allow her name to head the list of sup porters of the association in question. "As regards her lloyal llighness's per sonal action in the matter, Mr Holzmatm had already pointed out to Lord Carrington that the Princess of Wales had recently been using British manufactures much more largely than formerly, but he may add as a fact that her lloyal Highness and the young Princesses have for years been wearing home-made woollen (tresses during the greater half of the 12 months. Considering all these circumstances, her Royal Highness trusts that the ladies who are interested in this matter will not press her to become one of the patronesses of their association.

"Mr Ilolzmann regrets that this letter should have extended to such great length, but he was anxious to prove to Lady ll chester that the question had been weighed in all its bearings." It may be mentioned that the association in question was inaugurated .some months ago by the Countess of Bcctivc, and in a pamphlet which she has recently published on the subject she has stated that its object is to endeavour to bring again into fashion the use of British-made woollen materials. It appears that for some years past the fabrics known as " lustre wools " nave not found favour with the ladies of this country, and the result has been a considerable de pression in the trade in these goods, and also a great reduction in the price received for their produce by the farmers who grow the long-haired wools of which these lustres are made. The association is patronised by the Duchess of Edinburgh, the Princess Christian, the Princess Alary, Duchess of Teck, and about 200 ladies,

Trending the Wine-press in Hungary.

ON two side* were large vessels, something like enormous barrels, or small wooden pulpits, and in each of these a man appeared to be dancing. Around him were others, who from time to time Hung the grapes beneath the dancer's feet, or arranged mysterious taps and screws, which were to aid the flowing of the grape juice into the great vats in the cellar below. I looked into the barrels and saw that the dancers, or headers, were stamping on the skins and stems of the grapes, piled at least a foot in thickness, and drained of their juice by the process, the fruit having been thrown in promiscuously as it was picked—only that in one case the grapes were white and in the other purple. . 1 he overseer, a sturdy Wallachian, with a fierce black moustache and ringlets, looked narrowly at the little streams of juice that ran from the taps, and when at last those from one barrel dwindled, and then came drop by drop and stopped, the treader swung himself to the ground, and with shovels and wooden vessels proceeded to empty it o£ the pressed grape-skins and stalks, and refiill it with fresh fruit. > And here I must say my romantic delusions as to the "treading of the ■wine-press," and all the patriarchal institutions which surround it, vanished at once and for ever. I had had dim ideas of snowy garments dyed purple with the juice of the grape, and the delicate feet of cirls treading the luscious fruit under the shade of vine-clad trellises in the open air. In my imagination there were fountains of pure water washing away all stains and impurities, and long proces sions of men and maidens bearing the fruit on their heads, nil decked with flowers, and singing and dancing to the sound of harps and flutes. Had I not seen pictures to that effect, read poetical descriptions of it, and had not I always been encouraged by my childhood's instructors in this delusion? And now, behold, there were not any snowy garments at all. The Hungarians had on coarse shirts, and loose drawers tucked up above the knees; and I came to the conclusion that they had never seen any fountains of pure water, and wouldn't have known the use of them if they had. For there was a kind of grimincss about them, burnt in by the sun, which seemed to indicate that they never washed either themselves or their clothes. In fact they had a fine contempt for the ordinary rules of cleanliness. One black-eyed, purple legged fellow, with the grape juice just drying on his bare feet, seized a basket and ran off down the steps and into the vine yard, and presently returning with a load of the fruit, shot it into the press, and, with all the dust and dirt of the road still clinging to his feet, mounted and began to tread the grapes, and soon stood almost knee-deep in the liquor, which, having served him as a sort of foot-bath, was to be the drink, perhaps, of future generations of refined, fastidious palates. Having seen this, I became melancholy, and preferred to leave the rest of the manipulations of earth's choicest nectar in obscurity.— Argosy.

Selected Poetry.

MY PORTION.

liV CAKLOTTA PERRY

Very little of gold have I- Wealth and station have passed me by: But something sweet in my life I hold— That I would not change for place and gold. Beneath my feet the green earth lios, Above my head arc the tender skies. I live between two heavens; my eyes Ijook out to where, serene and sweet, At the world's far rim the two heavens meet

I hear the whisperings of the brcezo. ■• i The sweet, small tumults amid the trees; And many a message comes to me On the wing of bird, in tlio hum of bee, From tho mountain peak and the surging sea. E'en silence speaks with a voice so clear, I lean my very heart to hear, And all above me and all around Light and darkness, sight and sound To soul and sense such meanings bring, lithrill with a rapturous wondering ;

And I know by many a subtle sign That the very best of life is mine. And yet, as I spell each message o'er, I long and long for a deeper lore; I long to see and long to hear With a clearer vision, a truer oar; And I pray with keenest of all desiro For lips that are touched by the altar fire,

Patience, Oh, Koul! from a little field There cometh often a gracious yield. Who touchcth His garment's hem is healed.

THE DARK HANDS ON THE DIAL.

How frequently the passers-by glance up to noto

the hour. As marked in gilded figures so plainly on tho tower; Yet all, perhaps, if questioned, would quickly make denial That they had ever once beheld tho dark handfj on the dial. Unseen and unregarded, tho only thing they do Is just to poise the gilded hands and keep them right and true; Unwavering and constant, with humble self denial, In unperceiyed seclusion move the dark hands on the dial, Tho (iiiiet unobtrusive ones, who watch by beds ot pain, Or those on loving errands, who come and go again, So gently speaking words of cheer to those un nerved by trial, Unknown and all unnoticed, are like darlc hands on the dial. In fashion's throng bow many, who move with gilded show, Maintain their proud position through anxioua care and woo Of those who, never thought of, toil on in Bell denial, And all their lives are nothing else but darlc hands on tin; dial.

WHY DOES A HORSE-SHOE BEING LUCK?

Old relic of departed horso, Old harbinger of luck to man! When things pcom growing worse and worßCi How good to fiud you in the van! A hundred thousand milef, I ween, You've travelled on the flying heel— By country roads, where fields were green, O'er pavements with the rattling wheel. Your too-calk in that elder day, Wai sharper than a serpent's tooth; But now it's almost worn away; The blacksmith should renew its youth. Bright is the side was next the ground, Anil dark the side was next the hoo£; Tis thus true metal's only found Where hard knocks put it to the proof. FoHaught I know, you may have done Your mile in two nineteen or twenty; Or, on a dray-horse, never run, But walked and walked, and pulled a plenty. At lust your journeys all are o'er, Whether of labour or of pleasure And there you hang above my door To bring me health, and strength, and treasure

COMPENSATION.

(From tub "Spectator.!

It was the timo of Autumn, When leaves are turning brown,— Green to yellow and pied and black; And some were tumbling down. It was the time of Autumn, When fruita are gathered in. Some for the press, some for the vat, And some for tho miller's bin. Then poor men fell a-playing, For that their work was o'er; And rich men fella-sighing, That they could play no more. For the Summer-time is a merry time. If a man have leisure to play; But the Summer-time is a weary timo To him who must work all day. Then thanks to God tho Giver, Who loves both great and small; To every one lie something gives, But to no man gives all. The rich who careth for himself Finds, after pleasure, pain ; But the toiler whom God careth for Keets, and is glad again.

THE PLANTING OF THE VINE.

Old Fatlicr Noah sat alone Within his tent at morn. With such a shadow on his face As spoko a licurt forlorn. " What ails thco, Noah J" said a voice, Liko soft, sweet music pour'd ; And Noali, looking up, beheld The angel of the Lord. " Forgive mo, .Lord." he said and sigh a, "If wrongfully I think, But I am thirsty, nigh to death, And know not what to drink!" " To drink I" the gracious angel said: " See, whero the streamlets run, And all tho gladsome waters leap, Rejoicing to tho sun." " Tis true, dear Ijord ! but thought recalls Tho mournful myriads drowned— Brave men, fair women, lovely babea, And cattle of tho ground. I loatho all waters for their sakes— The beautiful, the young- It tastes of blood, if smolls of death ; "f is poison to my tongue 1" The radiant angel's lovely faco Shone bright with heavenly lire; '•Noah, such pity for mankind neseems their second sire. " Wait till I como 1" Like lightning flash lie vanished up the skies, And liko a lightning flash returned, KrQ.Noah had raised his eyes. "Take this," ho said, and held aloft A vino stock branching fair; " Heaven's noblest gift to human land Intrusted to thy care. "Go, plant it on the sunny hills; For health and length of days, And press its fruit for joyous drink And tho Creator's praise. It bears no taint of pain or death, Ajid fails not to impart Strength to the body and the mind, And gladness to tho heart. But curso not water, c'en in thought, God's blessing most benign, Fountain o£ beauty and of life. Mother of men and wine."

The old woman kept a private bottle from which she refreshed herself from time to time, as she felt the need, though none of the family knew it. One evening her daughter, in runimagiug through the pantry for doughnuts for her beau, spied the bottle, and had the curiosity to diaw the cork and apply her nose to the aperture, at which moment the old lady hove in sight and angrily demanded : "'Well, are you any wiser than you were ? What do you sup pose it is?' "I don't know what it is, maxima," answered the shrinking maiden ; " bait it smells just like Charlie's mous-

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, JANUARY 14, 1882.

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Special Medicines for Children, Infadts' Food Feeding Bott es Xursing Shields, Enemas, Waterproo Sheeting, Bandages, Belts, and all kinds of domestic appliances may be obtained at Gardner's English Pharmacy. 184, Queen-street, Auckland.— [Advt.] It is stated that only four hundred cedars of Lebanon remain. How many were there, and where are the se-ceders ?