VOL. 7.

Ah! if already to the one

Life's story seemed all told,

The other's life before him lay

As mystic lore unrolled;

Naught save the first few lines of which
Could keenest sight behold.

So sat the mother by the hearth,
Upon her knee her son;

And as she watched, instead of back,
Her thoughts went straying on,
Till e'en in little Johnnie's life
The crown of life was won.

Without-all nature fresh and bright,
All cloudless stretched the sky;
The cat upon the window-sill

Basked, purring graciously;

Sweet scents, calm peace, and grateful hearts,
All making melody.

'He knows me now already,

And ere many months are o'er
He will listen for his father's step,
As I, across the floor.

'He shall love him too, as I do!
He shall not be an awe
Because his mother has not wit
To make him mind her law.

'He will speak! and ere he speaketh,
His little hands shall pray
On my knee, tight clasped together,
God's grace throughout the day.

'As he older grows, his father
Will better teach than I

Arithmetic and Latin,

Yet I should like to try.

'No need for learned scholar's son
A school-boy e'er to be;
He will learning gain from Roger,
Obedience, faith, from me.

'Or if he is Queen's Scholar, he
Will sure like honour win;
I should like as Head Monitor

To let the dear boy in.

'How fast the days will speed! and then To college he must go; His father's-Trinity will like

To have his son, I know.

'And there all would astonished be
To see such goodly youth;
Learning, without a touch of pride-
A soul, the soul of truth.

'He would gain scholarships, and then Would surely Wrangler be!

(It is a long long journey,

Still-we must be there to see.)

'Then be made Fellow; I how proud
To walk between two men
Cambridge may well be proud of too
My own two Bournes;-and then?

'Then he will take a living,

And then must find a wife;

And then-may they be half as blest
As we in married life.

'Children will grow around them,

And-' but ere her dream was o'er,

Her husband all unnoticed

Had entered at the door;

(Once in a way she had not heard
His step upon the floor ;)

Some seconds had been gazing
Upon the half-bent brow,
Thinking his simple wife had ne'er
So beauteous looked as now,
Enwrapt in some unselfish dream,
Or making saintly vow.

He gazed until she felt his gaze,
And turning with a start,
Smiled and arose to clasp his neck,
Be prest unto his heart,

And whisper, 'Roger, may our son

Be only what thou art!

'But pray a blessing on the babe!'

'Wast dreaming for the lad?'

'How fast the days will speed and then To college he must go ; His father's-Trinity will like

To have his son, I know.

'And there all would astonished be

To see such goodly youth; Learning, without a touch of prideA soul, the soul of truth.

'He would gain scholarships, and thẹn Would surely Wrangler be!

(It is a long long journey,

Still-we must be there to see.)

'Then be made Fellow; I how proud
To walk between two men
Cambridge may well be proud of too-
My own two Bournes;-and then?

Then he will take a living,
And then must find a wife;
And then-may they be half as blest
As we in married life.

'Children will grow around them,

And-' but ere her dream was o'er,

Her husband all unnoticed

Had entered at the door;

(Once in a way she had not heard
His step upon the floor ;)

Some seconds had been gazing
Upon the half-bent brow,
Thinking his simple wife had ne'er
So beauteous looked as now,
Enwrapt in some unselfish dream,
Or making saintly vow.

He gazed until she felt his gaze,
And turning with a start,

Smiled and arose to clasp his neck,
Be prest unto his heart,

And whisper, 'Roger, may our son
Be only what thou art!

'But pray a blessing on the babe!"

'Wast dreaming for the lad?'

'Ay! and he had to college been,
And wife and children had,

When you awoke me from my dream,
A dream to make us glad.'

'God's blessing ever on the boy!

And ever on thy head,

The dearest woman man e'er yet

So blest was as to wed!
And by a cradle that May morn
Their orisons were said.

PART II.

MURESTON RECTORY, NOVEMBER 1867.

THE DREAM LIVED OUT.

An old man sat beside the hearth,
A book upon his knee;
Amongst the misty window panes

The wind sighed mournfully;

It was a chilly autumn eve

As drear as drear could be.

The old man sat beside the hearth,
Upon his knees a book;
But on the changing dying logs

He oftener cast a look;
And ever closer drew his chair
Within the chimney nook.

And now, as oft in twilight hour,
His thoughts went straying back
To days when, all untrodden still,
Before him lay life's track;
The happy happy days when he
Was only 'little Jack.'

How happy seemed those childish days,

As if without a tear;

With mother's gown to flee unto

Whether in hope or fear;

And to feel sure, whate'er the tale,

Of father's willing ear.

Yet there were trials! that sad day

When good old pussy died;