The swanherds where there sedges are
Moved on in sunset's golden breath,
The shepherde lads I heard afarre,
And my sonne's wife, Elizabeth;
Till floating o'er the grassy sea
Came downe that kindly message free,
The "Brides of Mavis Enderby."

Then some looked uppe into the sky,
And all along where Lindis flows
To where the goodly vessels lie,

And where the lordly steeple shows,
They sayde, "And why should this thing be?
What danger lowers by land or sea ?
They ring the tune of Enderby!

"For evil news from Mablethorpe,
Of pyrate galleys warping downe;
For shippes ashore beyond the scorpe,
They have not spared to wake the towne:
But while the west bin red to see,
And storms be none, and pyrates flee,
Why ring 'The Brides of Enderby ?'”

I looked without, and lo! my sonne
Came riding down with might and main:
He raised a shout as he drew on,

Till all the welkin rang again, "Elizabeth! Elizabeth !"

(A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.)

"The old sea wall (he cried) is downe,
The rising tide comes on apace,
And boats adrift in yonder towne
Go sailing uppe the market-place.”
He shook as one that looks on death:
"God save you, mother !" strait he saith
"Where is my wife, Elizabeth ?"

"Good sonne, where Lindis winds away, With her two bairns I marked her long;

And ere yon bells beganne to play

Afar I heard her milking song.
He looked across the grassy lea,
To right, to left, "Ho Enderby!"
They rang The Brides of Enderby !"

With that he cried and beat his breast;
For, lo! along the river's bed
A mighty eygre reared his crest,

And uppe the Lindis raging sped.
It swept with thunderous noises loud;
Shaped like a curling snow-white cloud,
Or like a demon in a shroud.

And rearing Lindis backward pressed,
Shook all her trembling bankes amaine,
Then madly at the eygre's breast

Flung uppe her weltering walls again.
Then bankes came downe with ruin and rout-

Then beaten foam flew round about

Then all the mighty floods were out.

So farre, so fast the eygre drave,
The heart had hardly time to beat,
Before a shallow seething wave

Sobbed in the grasses at oure feet,.
The feet had hardly time to flee
Before it brake against the knee,
And all the world was in the sea.

Upon the roofe we sat that night,

The noise of bells went sweeping by ;

I marked the lofty beacon light

Stream from the church tower, red and high

A lurid mark and dread to see;

And awesome bells they were to mee,

That in the dark rang "Enderby."

They rang the sailor lads to guide

From roofe to roofe who fearless rowed;

And I-my sonne was at my side,

And yet the ruddy beacon glowed;

And yet he moaned beneath his breath,
"O come in life, or come in death!
O lost! my love, Elizabeth."

And did'st thou visit him no more?

Thou did'st, thou did'st, my daughter deare;

The waters laid thee at his doore,

Ere yet the early dawn was clear, Thy pretty bairns in fast embrace, The lifted sun shone on thy face, Downe drifted to thy dwelling-place.

P*

That flow strewed wrecks about the grass,
That ebbe swept out the flocks to sea;
A fatal ebbe and flow, alas!

To manye more than myne and me:
But each will mourn his own (she saith),
And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath
Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.

I shall never hear her more
By the reedy Lindis shore,
"Cusha! Cusha! Cusha !" calling
Ere the early dews be falling;
I shall never hear her song,
"Cusha! Cusha!" all along
Where the sunny Lindis floweth,
Goeth, floweth ;

From the meads where melick groweth,
When the water winding down,
Onward floweth to the town.

I shall never see her more
Where the reeds and rushes quiver,
Shiver, quiver;

Stand beside the sobbing river,
Sobbing, throbbing, in its falling
To the sandy louesome shore ;
I shall never hear her calling,
"Leave your meadow grasses mellow,
Mellow, mellow;

Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow;
Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot;
Quit your pipes of parsley hollow,
Hollow, hollow;

Come uppe Lightfoot, rise and follow;
Lightfoot, Whitefoot,

From your clovers lift the head;
Come uppe Jetty, follow, follow,
Jetty, to the milking-shed."

RULES FOR PRESERVING HEALTH.

1st. Never hang yourself out of an open window when. you go to bed at night. The attraction of gravitation is always powerful during the nocturnal hours, and it may draw you violently against the pavement, and tear your night shirt.

2d. Always avoid drafts-on yourself-unless endorsed by a man with lots of "soap."

3d. In cold weather always wear thick, warm clothing about your body. If you haven't money enough to buy it, attend an inextinguishable conflagration in the vicinity of a first-class clothing shop.

4th. If you wear spectacles avoid going into any firemen's riots that may be transpiring. The reason of this is, that in addition to having your feelings hurt, you will very likely get more glass in your eyes than you had outside.

5th. If you are quite a small baby be careful that there are no pins in your clothes, and always take a drink of milk punch out of a bottle with a gum thing on the muzzle, before you get into your cradle.

6th. In eating raw oysters always peel the shells off before swallowing. The shells are indigestible and are apt to lay on the stomach.

7th. Never sleep more than nine in a bed, even in a country hotel where a Political Convention is being held. It is apt to produce a nightmare if any of the party kick in their sleep. This is especially the case when they go to, bed with their boots on.

8th. Abstain entirely from alcoholic drinks. The best way to do that is not to drink any alcohol.

9th. Never travel on railroad trains. Many persons have died quite unexpectedly by this imprudence.

10th. Never jab butcher knives, steel forks, and such things into you vitals: it is very unwholesome.

11th. Always come in when it rains, and if a rattlesnake bites you in the leg cut it off, unless you wear false calves or a wooden leg. In that case just untie it and take it off.

I don't say that fellows who follow these instructions will never die and let their friends enjoy a ride to the cemetery, but you won't get choked off in the bloom of your youth and beauty.

SOMEBODY'S DARLING.

INTO a ward of the whitewashed halls,
Where the dead and dying lay,
Wounded by bayonets, shells, and balls,
Somebody's Darling was borne one day-

Somebody's Darling, so young and so brave,
Wearing yet on his pale, sweet face,
Soon to be hid by the dust of the grave,
The lingering light of his boyhood's grace.
Matted and damp are the curls of gold,
Kissing the snow of the fair young brow,
Pale are the lips of delicate mould-
Somebody's Darling is dying now.
Back from his beautiful blue-veined brow,
Brush all the wandering waves of gold;
Cross his hands on his bosom now-
Somebody's Darling is still and cold.
Kiss him once for somebody's sake,
Murmur a prayer both soft and low;
One bright curl from its fair mates take-
They were somebody's pride, you know;
Somebody's hand hath rested there-

Was it a mother's, soft and white?
And have the lips of a sister fair

Been baptized in their waves of light?

God knows best! he was somebody's love: Somebody's heart enshrined him there; Somebody wafted his name above,

Night and morn, on the wings of prayer. Somebody wept when he marched away, Looking so handsome, brave, and grand; Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay, Somebody clung to his parting hand.

Somebody's waiting and watching for himYearning to hold him again to her heart; And there he lies with his blue eyes dim, And the smiling, child-like lips apart. Tenderly bury the fair young dead,

Pausing to drop on his grave a tear; Carve in the wooden slab at his head, "Somebody's Darling slumbers here."

THE WIFE.-J. G. Whittier.

AN IDYL OF BEARCAMP WATER.

FROM School, and ball, and rout, she came,
The city's fair, pale daughter,

To drink the wine of mountain air
Beside the Bearcamp Water.