How, dressed in her robe of white,
She stood by her gay young lover
In the morning's rosy light.

O, the morning is rosy as ever,

But the rose from her cheek is fled; And the sunshine still is golden,

But it falls on a silvery head.

And the spring-like dreams, once vanished, Come back in her winter-time,

Till her feeble pulses tremble

With the thrill of girlhood's prime.

And, looking forth from the window,
She thinks how the trees have grown,
Since, clad in her bridal whiteness,

She crossed the old door-stone.

Though dimmed her eyes' bright azure,
And dimmed her hair's young gold,
The love in her girlhood plighted
Has never grown dim nor old.

They sat in peace in the sunshine,
Till the day was almost done;
And then at its close an angel
Stole over the threshold stone

He folded their hands together;
He touched their eyes with balm;
And their last breath floated upward,
Like the close of a solemn psalm.

Like a bridal pair they traversed

The unseen mystical road, That leads to the beautiful city,

"Whose Builder and Maker is God."

Perhaps, in that miracle country,
They will give her lost youth back,
And the flowers of a vanished spring-time
Will bloom in the spirit's track.

One draught of the living waters

Shall call back his manhood's prime, And eternal years shall measure

The love that outlived time.

But the forms that they left behind them,

The wrinkles and silver hair,

Made holy to us by the kisses

The angel had printed there,

We will hide away 'neath the willows
When the day is low in the west,
Where the sunshine gleams upon them,
And no winds disturb their rest.

And we'll suffer no telltale tombstone,
With its age and date, to rise
O'er the two who are old no longer,

In their Father's house in the skies.
HOME JOURNAL

A STORY OF ST. MARK'S EVE.

BY THOMAS HOOD.

St. Mark's Day is a festival which has been observed on the 25th of April, in Catholic countries, from time immemorial. The superstition alluded to in the following story was formerly very generally believed, and vigils in the church-porch at midnight were common.

thee!"

HOPE it'll choke thee!" said Master Giles, the yeoman; and, as he said it, he banged his big red fist on the old oak table. "I do say I hope it 'll choke

The dame made no reply. She was choking with passion and a fowl's liver, which was the cause of the dispute. Much has been said and sung concerning the advantage of congenial tastes amongst married people; but the quarrels of this Kentish couple arose from too great coincidence in their tastes. They were both fond of the little delicacy in question, but the dame had managed to secure the morsel to herself. This was sufficient to cause a storm of high words, which, properly understood, signifies very low language. Their

meal times seldom passed over without some contention of this sort. As sure as the knives and forks clashed, so did they; being in fact equally greedy and disagreedy; and when they did pick a quarrel, they picked it to the bone.

It was reported that, on some occasions, they had not even contented themselves with hard speeches, but had come to scuffling; he taking to boxing and she to pinching, though in a far less amicable manner than is practised by the taker of snuff. On the present difference, however, they were satisfied with "wishing each other dead with all their hearts "; and there seemed little doubt of the sincerity of the aspiration, on looking at their malignant faces; for they made a horrible picture in this frame of mind.

Now it happened that this quarrel took place on the morning of St. Mark; a saint who was supposed on that festival to favor his votaries with a peep into the book of fate. For it was the popular belief in those days, that, if a person should keep watch at midnight beside the church, the apparitions of all those of the parish who were to be taken by death before the next anniversary would be seen entering the porch. The yeoman, like his neighbors, believed most devoutly in this superstition; and in the very moment that he breathed the unseemly aspiration aforesaid, it occurred to him that the eve was at hand, when, by observing the rite of St. Mark, he might know to a certainty

whether this unchristian wish was to be one of those that bear fruit. Accordingly, a little before midnight, he stole quietly out of the house, and set forth on his way to the church.

In the mean time, the dame called to mind the same ceremonial; and, having the like motive for curiosity with her husband, she also put on her cloak and calash, and set out, though by a different path, on the same errand.

The night of the Saint was as dark and chill as the mysteries he was supposed to reveal; the moon throwing but a short occasional glance, as sluggish masses of cloud were driven slowly from her face. Thus it fell out that our two adventurers were quite unconscious of being in company, till a sudden glimpse of moonlight showed them to each other, only a few yards apart. Both, through a natural panic, became pale as ghosts; and both made eagerly toward the church porch. Much as they had wished for this vision, they could not help quaking and stopping on the spot, as if turned to stones; and in this position the dark again threw a sudden curtain over them, and they disappeared from each other.

The two came to one conclusion; each conceiving that St. Mark had marked the other to himself. With this comfortable knowledge, the widow and widower elect hied home again by the roads they came; and as their custom was to sit apart after a quarrel, they repaired to separate chambers, each ignorant of the other's excursion.