He was

out having given me warning. drenched with rain, and I said to him something about the folly of walking in his bad health in such weather, and where was his luggage? He spread out his poor thin hands and said, "Mary, I carry all my possessions on my back," and then leaning his face on the table he sobbed like a child. I shall never forget him as he appeared that night-never, while I live! He was no more like the Robert that had left me nine months before than the broken bits of driftwood are like the brave ship that sailed out of harbor a year ago. He could tell me nothing that night, but the next morning he said that finding he should never be able to do better for his invention, he had given it up to the manufacturer of machinery in whose service he had worked, on condition, that he would bring it out within three years. "I don't care for profits, Mary," he said, "let us have enough to live on and I shall be satisfied."

"But Rosie Kirwan?" I suggested.

"Don't talk about her, Mary. Rosie and I have broken-her mother heard how badly I was doing and said the engagement must be dropped. I did not try to hold her to it-she would have stood by me, but—” and the poor lad's voice broke down.

III.

After this Robert had a bad illness, and his brain was affected more or less to the end of his life in consequence, but the intervals between were long, and he and I together led a not unhappy life. In less than two years, there was scarcely an extensive manufactory in the kingdom that had not adopted Robert's invention, and its usefulness was extended to far other and different purposes than he had designed. It was like a new principle in mechanical powers that he had discovered and developed, for others to carry forward. The person whose capital had enabled him to bring to practical results what Robert had designed, grew a very rich man speedily; he once sent Robert a fifty-pound note, and we were not in a position to refuse it. As I said before, I had parted with all but a bare subsistence. Robert was never more fit for work. We went to a seaside village and stayed there a year or two, in hopes that it would restore him, but it never did. He liked to sit on the sands, tracing out impossible designs with his stick, and demonstrating their feasibility to me. From the lectures I got I ought to be one of the first theoretical machinists of the age.

There is nothing more to tell. He lived

eleven years longer and we went home to Alsterdale to my mother. My father was dead then, and my brother Charles had the farm. But Robert frequently said-especially towards the last "Mary, whatever people think, and however it may seem, remember, I am not a disappointed man. I have done my work!"

Robert's opinion may not be the opinion of those who read these lines, but it was his, and it is mine. After all these years it matters not a thought who is right and who is wrong. I always hoped he would be

taken first, for who would have cared for him, like me? I had my desire. I have outlived him more than thirty years.

Q

WHEN THE TIDE GOES OUT.

BY AMELIA E. BARR.

Full white moon upon a waste of ocean,
High full tide upon the sandy shore;
In the fisher's cot without a motion,

Waiteth he that never shall sail more-
Waiteth he, and one sad comrade, sighing,
Speaking lowly, says, "Without a doubt
He will rest soon: Some one calls the dying
When the tide goes out."

Some One calls the tide, when in its flowing
It hath touched the limits of its bound;
Some great Voice; and all the billows, knowing
What omnipotence is in that sound,
Hasten back to ocean, none delaying

For man's profit, pleasuring, or doubtBackward to their source, not one wave straying; And the tide is out.

Some One calls the soul o'er life's dark ocean,
When its tide breaks high upon the land,
And it listens with such glad emotion

As the "called" alone can understand-
Listens, hastens to its source of being,
Leaves the sands of Time without a doubt,
While we sadly wait, as yet but seeing
That the tide is out.

ROSE.

BY COUNTESS DE GASPARIN.

They had all been working hard; in the meadows, getting the hay in; in the vineyard, cutting the leaves; in the field, tying up the sheaves: July was drawing to a close.

"I do not know," said the mother to me, "what ails my Rose. She has fretted too much for her father, she has over-tired herself. It will be no harm though, I am

." But evidently her heart was heavy. On the morrow the doctor paid a visit to the little room. One reached it by a wooden staircase; the window got all the sun, and looked on a small garden. A young girl sat sewing away as fast as she could a slender form with a fair innocent face. Her mother was standing a little behind her.

When the doctor entered, the young girl looked at him in amazement, rose, blushed deeply, then suddenly dropped down again in her chair, in all the bashfulness of sixteen.

She had never left her mother, had never been to dances, never run about the roads in the evenings hand-in-hand with other girls, not that she was unsocial or proud, but she knew better things than these, and