And each day I changed his play
Within the garden fence,

And fed him morn and noon and eve
And was his providence.

And he knew the rustle of my gown,

And every lightest tone,

And when he heard me pass, straightway
He followed o'er stock and stone.

One dark and balmy evening,

When the south wind breathed of rain,

I went to lead my pet within,

And found but a broken chain.

And a terror fell upon me,

For round on every side

The circling sea was sending in
The strength of the full flood-tide.

Out of the dark, the warm wet wind

Blew soft against my cheek,

But naught was heard but the sound of the waves

Crowding against the shore.

Over the dewy grass I ran,

And called aloud once more.

What reached me out of the distance?

Surely, a piteous bleat!

I threw my long dress over my arm

And following with flying fleet,

Down to the edge of the water,

Calling again and again,

Answered so clearly, near and more near,
By that tremulous cry of pain!

I crept to the end of the rocky ledge
Black lay the water wide,

Up from among the rippling wave

Came the shivering voice that cried.

I could not see, but I answered him;
And, stretching a rescuing hand,

I felt in the darkness his sea-soaked wool,
And drew him into the land.

And the poor little creature pressed so close,
Distracted with delight,

While I dried the brine from his dripping fleece
With my apron soft and white.

Close in my arms I gathered him,

More glad than tongue can tell,

And he laid on my shoulder his pretty head,
He knew that all was well.

And I thought as I bore him swiftly back,
Content, close folded thus,

Of the Heavenly Father's compassionate,
Whose pity shall succor us.

For He hears the voices that cry to Him
And near His love shall draw:

With help and comfort He waits for us,
The Light and the Life and the Law.

SURELY there

JOB, XXVIII.

CELIA THAXTER.

is a vein for the silver, and a place for gold where they fine it.

Iron is taken out of the earth, and brass is molten out of the stone.

He setteth an end to darkness, and searcheth out all perfection: the stones of darkness, and the shadow of death.

The flood breaketh out from the inhabitant; even the waters forgotten of the foot: they are dried up, they are gone away from men.

As for the earth, out of it cometh bread: and under it is turned up as it were fire.

The stones of it are the place of sapphires: and it hath dust of gold.

There is a path which no fowl knoweth, and which the vulture's eye hath not seen: The lion's whelps have not trodden it, nor the fierce lion passed by it.

He putteth forth his hand upon the rock; he overturneth the mountains by the roots.

He cutteth out rivers among the rocks; and his eye seeth every precious thing.

He bindeth the floods from overflowing; and the thing

that is hid bringeth he forth to light.

But where shall wisdom be found? and where is the place of understanding?

Man knoweth not the price thereof; neither is it found in the land of the living.

The depth saith, It is not in me: and the sea saith, It is not with me.

It cannot be gotten for gold, neither shall silver be weighed for the price thereof.

It cannot be valued with the gold of Ophir, with the precious onyx, or the sapphire.

The gold and the crystal cannot equal it: and the exchange of it shall not be for jewels or fine gold.

No mention shall be made of coral, or of pearls: for the price of wisdom is above rubies.

The topaz of Ethiopia shall not equal it, neither shall it be valued with pure gold.

Whence then cometh wisdom? and where is the place of understanding?

Seeing it is hid from the eyes of all living, and kept close from the fowls of the air.

Destruction and death say, We have heard the fame thereof with our ears.

God understandeth the way thereof, and he knoweth the place thereof.

For he looketh to the ends of the earth, and seeth under the whole heaven;

To make the weight for the winds; and he weigheth the waters by measure.

When he made a decree for the rain, and a way for the lightning of the thunder.

Then did he see it, and declare it; he prepared it, yea, and searched it out.

And unto man he said, Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom; and to depart from evil is understanding. BIBLE.

THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW.

STAND upon the hill and hear
The unseen spirits of the air
Playing, on harps of branches bare,
The dirge of the departing year.

A gray gloom veils the crescent moon
That hangs above the pine-tree's crest,
And voices full of life's unrest
Among the darkling shadows croon.

Beneath my feet the wintry sea

Moans out its sorrow to the shore For something missed forevermore That only is in memory.

It is a time for saddest thought:

The year in which dear hopes have died
Drifts outward with the ebbing tide
As drifted she of Camelot;

Drifts out into the mighty sea

From whence no breezes earthward blow; What lands are there we may not know; We only say, Eternity!

Old Year, your time has come to die!

Your hands have mingled smiles and tears, And reared, like all your kindred years, Stones by the graves where dead hopes lie. Good-bye, Old Year! The wind's low wail Is like a last, long, dying breath.

The earth seems face to face with death, And shudders, frightened, sad and pale.