“Bessie, won't you walk down to the gate | Gaines had sunk twice before aid could with me? I've a message for you.” | reach him, and was just going down for the

Slowly and reluctantly the girl complied, last time, when a strong hand canght him, stopping short at the gate, and asking, coldly, held him, and bore him safely to the boat.

“Well, what's your message? I shall be His exhaustion was complete, and, when taking cold here."

somewhat revived, he was placed in one of Now Will's message was some unimportant the smaller boats, rowed ashore and carried trifle which might as well have been reserved home by Will Farnsworth, who quietly for another time, and having heard it, she carried on all the preparations without a tossed her head, saying:

word or look for Bessie, pale and silent in: "Oh, is that all? I'll go back, then. / her seat. Good-night.”

Worn out as he was, Alfred Gaines was. “Well, go back!” said Will, fiercely, as quite able to talk, and, during their solishe turned away—“go back to him, if you tary ride to the Widow Wells' cottage, he want to, but I sweat

manifested his gratitude towards his pre“What do you mean?” she cried, half server, as best he might, by certain statefrightened by the savage whisper, the ments to the effect that he was engaged abrupt stop, seeming to mask some terrible to a cousin of Bessie's; that he had known meaning, and the desperate, passionate face the latter-Bessie-from her childhood ; revealed by the moonlight—“What were and that, on his establishment in the houseyou saying, please, Will ?”

. Thola, he had entered into a playful compact She took a step toward him, just touching to shield her by an apparent devotion from his arm with her hand, but he shook it off, the unwelcome attentions of others; addand muttering--“No matter-I'll not keeping his own private conviction that the girl you here,” pulled open the gate, and walked | was fonder of Will than she would like to down the lane without a single backward admit, and, girl-like, sought to freeze him glance. Bessie, after watching him out of into an unconsciousness of feeling that sight, returned with a rather troubled face. frightened herself. To all of which the

Will's intention had been to solicit Bessie's young man listened rather silently, promiscompany for a sail which was to come off ing compliance, however, when his comthe next day on Brant pond, but the cold-panion entreated, as a personal favour, that ness of her reception had checked his | he would come to the cottage that evening, purpose. Nevertheless, she was there : when he himself should be more fully rè. all life and gaiety as usual, and, as usual covered. The result of which strategy was also, accompanied by Alfred Gaines. Will that Will did come, to find on the porch, was there, too, for, as the best sailor, his not Alfred Gaines, but Bessie Wells, who, skilful management could not be spared greeting him shyly, but sweetly murmured: from the boat, But, silent and busy, he “How kind it was, Will! how noble to had very little to do with Bessie, who, in risk your life for him—when you were--" the other end of the boat, laughing and She stopped, blushing. The young man chattering, amused herself by unsuccessful filled up the pause snatches after floating water-lilies. Pre. “When I was jealous of him? Yes, that sently Mr. Gaines volunteered his assist- I was, wickedly jealous—but, Bessie, must ance, reached far out, lost his balance and I be so, after this, 'of him or anybody ? fell, just as Will Farnsworth, perceiving his Tell me, Bessie darling !" And he took peril, gave a shout of warning.. . her hand.

“And he cannot swim !" cried Bessie, in “Oh, Will! you are a great deal too good trembling dismay. Before the words were for me,” she said. The tears were in her spoken, Bill had made ready for the rescue. eyes, but she did not take away her hand,

“Oh, Will!” sobbed Bessie, in a tone that although feeling herself drawn closer and betrayed her heart, as she saw his purpose. closer. I do not think that Will FarnsHe gave her one look, and plunged in. / worth has ever regretted his revenge.

THE BOY'S RECITER.

19. ODE TO BENVENUTO CELLINI. With nymphs enough to form a good se (Anonymous.)

raglio,The chief object of attention, in the fol.

A cameo of aurelian,

Cornelia, in Cornelianlowing brilliant piece, is the management | And, best of all Huntsmen with horn and of the voice in double emphasis, applied to hound, the witticisms in the punning form, so fre Unlike our English tally-ho, quently interwoven with the playful flow

Yet all—intaglio. of humour, which constitutes the main tenor A stone, of no great value, has been set of the expression.

On thee, for ages past;

No sculptor cuts thee out, nor have we met STRIKER of Medals, and of many Men!

A Founder of thy cast,
In that fierce age

Since Death,--that sinker of renown,-
When striking was the rage,

Within the grave did cool thy mettle down!
And men could cut with chisel, sword, or pen, There, every crown is tossed,
Who can behold

And the best ivories lost;
The works thy genius planned,

| There, veinless as his marbles, and as cold, And not be struck by thy great master hand ?

Cellini lies within his country's mould !
What golden hours were thine! for we are
told
By thine own page,

20. THE BATTLE FIELD. (Bryant.) The Mint engaged thy time; and Pontiffs sage Would give thee their support,

This piece exemplifies, in the first part, While sinking for the Court the grave and solemn style of voice and Its papal die.

gesture : in the second portion, that of grade Hail! to thee,-“Carver” bold !

but manly energy of manner. Thus born to flourish under the “Pope's | ONCE this soft turf, this rivalet's sands, eye,”

Were trampled by a hurrying crowd; Yet would defy,

And fiery hearts, and arméd hands,

Encountered in the battle cloud.
By leaving gold unchased, to chase a foe:
Scorning all forms, beside St. Peter's chair, Ah! never shall the land forget,
For nothing didst thou care-

How gushed the life-blood of her brave, — 'Bating his bull !

Gushed, warm with hope and courage, yet It were an even toss,

Upon the soil they fought to save.
Which of thy works may be most wonderful ; | Now, all is calm, and fresh, and still,
Sometimes a Sonnet writing,

Alone the chirp of flitting bird,
Now fairly fighting,

And talk of children on the hill,
Then sitting coolly down to work a cross !
“Fine images” were thing

And bell of wandering kine, are heard.
Thy cups which we inherit,

No solemn host goes trailing by
Seem full of spirit,

The black-mouthed gun and staggering
And in thy magic rings dull heroes shine. wain;
In metal, stone, or wood,

Men start not at the battle cry,--
Equally good,

Ob! be it never heard again!
Thy works on Fame's high pedestals have

Soon rested those who fought; but thou stood;

Who minglest in the harder strife
Many are handed down,

For truths which men receive not now,
Thy name to crown;
Thus chaste Diana we may still behold

Thy warfare only ends with life. Bathing within a circle of pure gold, | A friendless warfare ! lingering long And Pan looks sharply out from some dark Through weary day and weary year: wood;

| A wild and many-weaponed throng While Mercury in silver may be found, Hang on thy front, and flank, and rear,

His toe;

Yot, nerve thy spirit to the proof:

| I have no charm to renovate the youth And blench not at thy chosen lot :

Of old authentic dictates of the heart; The timid good may stand aloof,

To wash the wrinkles from the face of truth, The sage may frown,--yet faint thou not! | And out of Nature from creative Art. Nor heed the shaft too surely cast,

Divinest Poesy !-'tis thine to make The hissing, stinging bolt of scorn ;

Age young, -youth old,--to baffle tyrant For with thy side shall dwell, at last,

Time; The victory of endurance born.

From antique strains the hoary dust to Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again ;

shake,

And with familiar grace to crown new The eternal years of God are hers; But Error, wounded, writhes with pain,

ryhme. And dies among his worshippers.

Long have I loved thee,--long havo loved Yea, though thou lie upon the dust,

in vain, When they who helped thee flee in fear,

Yet large the debt my spirit owes to thee ; Die, full of hope and manly trust,

Thou wreath’dst my first hours in a rosy Like those who fell in battle here,

chain,

Rocking the cradle of my infancy.
Another hand thy sword shall wield,
Another hand the standard wave,

The lovely images of earth and sky
Till from the trumpet's mouth is pealed From thee I learned within my soul to
The blast of triumph o'er thy grave.

treasure ; And the strong magic of thy minstrelsy Charms the world's tempest to a sweet

sad measure. 21. POIETES APOIETBS. (Hartley Coleridge.)

Not Fortune's spite, nor hopes that once An example, in recitation, of the deep

have been and subdued tones of regret, and the droop. Hopes which no power of Fate can give éng attitude and imperfect gesture of shame. again; Such pieces become useful suggestive les. Not the sad sentence that my life must wean

| From dear domestic joys,--nor all the sons in regard to appropriate animation and

train energy in the usual forms of recitation.

| Of pregnant ills, and penitential harms, No hope have I to live a deathless name,

| That dog the rear of youth unwisely A power immortal in the world of mind, wasted, A sun to light with intellectual flame Can dim the lustre of thy stainless charms,

The universal soul of human kind. | Or sour the sweetness that in thee I tasted. Not mine the skill in memorable phrase

The hidden truths of passion to roveal, To bring to light the intermingling ways | 22. THE VOICE OF THE SUMMER WINDS. By which unconcious motives darkling

kling (Written for Boy's MONTHLY MAGAZINE.) steal;

By ROBERT STENSON PRINGLE.
To show how forms the sentient heart affect,
How thoughts and feelings mutually com-

THE sunbeam of gold bine,

Is again in the sky, How oft the pure, impassive Intellect

And the breath of the summer Shares the mischances of his mortal

Is drawing nigh ; shrine.

There is joy in the valley,

And joy on the plain, Nor can I summon from the dark abyss

And the voice of the forest Of time the spirit of forgotten things,

Is happy again ; Bestow unfading life on transient bliss,-

And the laughing song Bid memory live with “healing on its

Is heard in the sky, wings,"

For the winds of the summer Or give a substance to the haunting shades

Are drawing nigh. Whose visitation shames the vulgar earth, And methinks I hear Before whose light the ray of morning fades,

Their voices gay, And hollow yearning chills the soul of As on fairy wings mirth.

They float away

From the Southern home

Of the rubied sun,
Where the red beams dance,

And the year begun

Smiles onward to its close.
Nearer and nearer they float along,
And sweet is the burden of their song;
For múttering echoes whisper low, si
The voice of the winds as they onward go:

“We come to cheer
The waking year

Of the land of the misty sky;
And on our wing
We gaily bring-
To bathe the air
Of the flying spring,
And deck the tomb
Of the winter's gloom-

Flowers of fairy dye: .
And floating, floating onward still,
We soften the song of the leaping rill;
And breathing on the mellowing air,
We scatter gladness everywhere-

Purple clouds,
And clouds of gold,

Swimming in the dome of blue;
Peopled towns
Of insect hum

Flitting in the air anew;
Meadow bloom,
And rainbow showers,

Falling softly from the sky;
Music sweet
From forest bowers,

| Mingling with the honeyed sigh
Of gentle gales from beds of flowers
That breathe of love and peace.
And with it all a boon we bring,
A priceless, priceless mystic thing,
Which many mortals sell for gold,
And then bemoan as soon as sold-
A boon that none for gems may buy,
An angel-blessing from on high.
The aged man with the silver hair
Hath waited long for the summer air ;
Through the weary months of the snowy

cold
He has longed for the sun and the clouds

of gold;
For with them comes, what now we bring
HEALTH, that priceless, priceless thing
The boon which you, pale, sickly one,
Would love to clasp ere yet his sun
| Of Autumn comes to set too soon-
Wond'rous, priceless angel-boon!
“ Onward, onward

Floating still,
Over the heath

And ice-cold hill
Vapours yielding

As we go-
Blessings falling

Thick as snow-
Health and strength

And golden hours,
Fairy smiles

And drooping showers."

RABBIT-CATCHING.

A MONG the many pleasures of a country | Who has not seen them, while walking near A life, there is none in which boys generally a wood, bobbing up their little white tails take so much delight as rabbit-catching as they dash off for protection beneath the When the game of cricket and other amuse- shadowy fern, or gambolling innocently on ments of summer are gone, and the cold the outside of their burrows ? Many places winds and frosts of winter have bereft the still retain the name of Warrens, on account trees of their former verdure, the country of the vast number of rabbits which used to lad prepares his nets over the cozy fireside, inhabit their vicinity, though at present not in anticipation of the sport. With what a single rabbit is to be found there, the race veneration is the neighbouring gamekeeper having to give way to the advance of agriheld in !-how often are his ferrets borrowed, culture. in consideration of which favour a present A few black wild rabbits are met with in sometimes finds its way to the man of the some woods, but they are by no means so woods!

numerous as their brown relatives, which The common rabbit is found in almost increase rapidly, frequently, having four every part of our island, and forms one of litters in a season, five young ones to a the many pleasing features of the country. I litter.

Various are the ways of catching them, | ferret, almost suffocated, to breathe them but the method generally adopted is to fresh air. A grand inspection of the ferret's put a ferret into one of the holes of a teeth and claws takes place directly after its warren, care having been taken to arrange capture, when it is discovered, by the quan. over each of the other holes a net very much tity of fur on its claws, that there is a resembling a cabbage net in shape, but with rabbit in the hole; but as old Velveteen larger meshes, so that when the timid little assures them that the rabbit would scarcely animals make a rush out of one of their be worth the trouble of digging out, the boys back-doors, they are, mournful to relate, are content to walk off with the game entangled in the net, and are released only already caught. Sometimes the ferret will at the cost of their lives.

not come out for the firing of the gun ; then Ferrets should be muzzled previous to the time passes slowly along, and the spec. being worked as they are, in county par- tators stand shivering over the burrow as the lance, apt to lie in. Many plans are resorted chill wintry wind whistles through the trees. to for this purpose ; some persons sew up Rabbits are occasionally caught in wooden their mouths, but this is not only cruel but traps, but there is no way of capturing unnecessary, as a muzzle may be constructed them which affords the juvenile portion of with some string placed behind the animal's the community more amusement than with two tusks, and tied in a firm knot round its the old-fashioned nets. These nets are four mouth; or a line may be attached to their feet high and seventy yards long, with a necks with a small buckle and strap. Carecord passed through the top and bottom, should be taken to prevent the ferret from and are suspended with sticks across a wood. over-feeding the day before it is wanted, as A number of persons with dogs and sticks it then becomes lazy, and sleeps composedly start from the farther end of the copse, in the hole, from which it is not obtained driving the affrighted rabbits with repeated without much trouble. As soon as the shouts and cries precipitately into the nets, ferret has been put into the hole, old when some person who has been previously Velveteens, who has laid down his gun at stationed there rushes out and soon settles the foot of a moss-covered tree, enjoins the bunny's grievances with a severe rap on strictest silence. The boys who have been the head. A large number of rabbits may watching the proceedings talk in whispers, be caught in this manner, especially if the and step cautiously to some particular net, burrows have been ferreted the previous day. ready to pounce upon their unfortunate The shooting of rabbits gives much pleavictims. Several long minutes have elapsed sure to the youth of England in the short without any sport, when suddenly a noise is days of winter, but it has one great draw. heard in the burrow, and a rabbit rushes into back, and that is the great risk the sportsthe treacherous net, and is clutched by one men run of either shooting themselves, or of the youths aforesaid, who terminates being shot by one of their more reckless its misfortunes with its life. This success companions. lasts some little time, when a long interlude Boys are apt to fire at a rabbit without ensues; the ferret has not been seen for once considering if they may not shoot one some time, neither have any rabbits bolted. of their companions, who, though only a fer Velveteen mutters in a low tone that the yards before, is completely concealed by the ferret has laid in; the boys look disconso- thick underwood. The great error with late, but this is of no avail ; so Velveteen, novices is firing at the rabbits too soon ; who has been used to these emergencies they do not recollect that the shot fired at before, takes his gun, which has been the distance of a few yards hits the mark totally forgotten by his juvenile companions, almost like a bullet; if they wait till the and fires a charge of gunpowder into the rabbit is about forty yards off, they have a hole, filling it up immediately; soon the far greater chance of killing it, as the shot smoke makes its appearance in a dense blue not only scatters more, but the angle of aim cloud at the others, driving the unfortunate | is less acute.