custom known in his church in which courteous evasion the other acquiescing for good manners' sake, or in compliance with a weak brother, the supplementary or tea grace was waived altogether. With what spirit might not Lucian have painted two priests, of his religion, playing into each other's hands the compliment of performing or omitting a sacrifice, the hungry God meantime, doubtful of his incense, with expectant nostrils hovering over the two flamens, and (as between two stools) going away in the end without his supper.

A short form upon these occasions is felt to want reverence; a long one, I am afraid, cannot escape the charge of impertinence. I do not quite approve of the epigrammatic conciseness with which that equivocal wag (but my pleasant schoolfellow) C. V. L., when importuned for a grace, used to inquire, first slyly leering down the table, "Is there no clergyman here?" significantly adding, "Thank G." Nor do I think our old form at school quite pertinent, where we were used to preface our bald bread-and-cheese suppers with a preamble, connecting with that humble blessing a recognition of benefits the most awful and overwhelming to the imagination which religion has to offer. Non tunc illis erat locus. I remember we were put to it to reconcile the phrase "good creatures," upon which the blessing rested, with the fare set before us, willfully understanding that expression in a low and animal sense, till some one recalled a legend, which told how, in the golden days of Christ's, the young Hospitalers were wont to have smoking joints of roast meat upon their nightly boards, till some pious benefactor, commiserating the decencies, rather than the palates, of the children, commuted our flesh for garments, and gave us - horresco referens-trousers instead of

mutton.

THE LASS O' GOWRIE.

BY BARONESS NAIRNE.

[BARONESS CAROLINA OLIPHANT NAIRNE, Song writer, was born in Perthshire, Scotland, August 16, 1766, and died there October 27, 1845. Her life was spent in Scotland, Ireland, and on the Continent. Her eighty-seven songs were written for The Scottish Minstrel (1821-1824), under the pen name B. B. or Mrs. Bogan of Bogan, and were posthumously published as "Lays from Strath

earn." Many of them are exquisite in form and sentiment, the more familiar being "Land o' the Leal," "Caller Herrin'," "The Laird o' Cockpen,” and "The Auld House."]

TAMMY.

BY BARONESS NAIRNE.

I WISH I kenned my Maggie's mind,
If she's for me or Tammy;
To me she is but passing kind,

She's caulder still to Tammy.
And yet she lo'es me no that ill,
If I believe her granny;

O sure she must be wond'rous nice,

If she'll no hae me or Tammy.

I've spiered her ance, I've spiered her twice,
And still she says she canna;

I'll try her again, and that mak's thrice,
And thrice, they say, is canny.

Wi' him she'll hae a chaise and pair,

Wi' me she'll hae shanks naggie;
He's auld and black, I'm young and fair,
She'll surely ne'er tak' Tammy.

But if she's a fule, and slightlies me,
I'se e'en draw up wi' Nancy;

There's as gude fish into the sea

As e'er cam' out, I fancy.

And though I say't that shou'dna say't,
I'm owre gude a match for Maggio;
Sae mak' up your mind without delay,
Are you for me, or Tammy?

TALES FROM THE FJELD.

BY P. CH. ASBJÖRNSEN.

(Translated by Sir George Dasent, D.C.L.)

[PETER CHRISTEN ASBJÖRNSEN, born at Christiania, Norway, January 15, 1812; died January 6, 1885. He studied at the university in his native place, paying especial attention to zoölogy and botany, and later gave much attention to the study of folklore. He taught and traveled; was head forester in a district in the north of Norway, and was subsequently sent by the government to investigate the turf industry in other countries. Meanwhile he wrote voluminously on the subiects of natural history and folklore, winning his reputation chiefly

through the latter. His greatest works are :

"Norske Folke-eventyr " (Norwegian Folk Tales), in collaboration with Moe, 1842-1844; and "Norske Huldreeventyr og Folkesagn" (Norwegian Fairy Tales and Folk Legends), 1845.]

FRIENDS IN LIFE AND DEATH.

ONCE on a time there were two young men who were such great friends that they swore to one another they would never part, either in life or death. One of them died before he was at all old, and a little while after the other wooed a farmer's daughter, and was to be married to her. So when they were bidding guests to the wedding, the bridegroom went himself to the churchyard where his friend lay, and knocked at his grave and called him by name. No! he neither answered nor came. He knocked again, and he called again, but no one came. A third time he knocked louder and called louder to him, to come that he might talk to him. So, after a long, long time, he heard a rustling, and at last the dead man came up out of the grave.

"It was well you came at last," said the bridegroom, “for I have been standing here ever so long, knocking and calling for you."

"I was a long way off," said the dead man, "so that I did not quite hear you till the last time you called.”

"All right!" said the bridegroom; "but I am going to stand bridegroom to-day, and you mind well, I dare say, what we used to talk about, and how we were to stand by each other at our weddings as best man."

"I mind it well," said the dead man, "but you must wait a bit till I have made myself a little smart; and, after all, no one can say I have on a wedding garment."

The lad was hard put to it for time, for he was overdue at home to meet the guests, and it was all but time to go to church; but still he had to wait awhile and let the dead man go into a room by himself, as he begged, so that he might brush himself up a bit, and come smart to church like the rest; for, of course, he was to go with the bridal train to church.

Yes! the dead man went with him both to church and from church, but when they had got so far on with the wedding that they had taken off the bride's crown, he said he must go. So, for old friendship's sake, the bridegroom said he would go with him to the grave again. And as they walked to the church

yard the bridegroom asked his friend if he had seen much that was wonderful, or heard anything that was pleasant to know. "Yes! that I have," said the dead man. "I have seen much, and heard many strange things."

"That must be fine to see," said the bridegroom. "Do you know, I have a mind to go along with you, and see all that with my own eyes."

"You are quite welcome," said the dead man ; chance that you may be away some time."

"but it may

"So it might," said the bridegroom; but for all that he would go down into the grave.

But before they went down the dead man took and cut a turf out of the graveyard and put it on the young man's head. Down and down they went, far and far away, through dark, silent wastes, across wood, and moor, and bog, till they came. to a great, heavy gate, which opened to them as soon as the dead man touched it. Inside it began to grow lighter, first as though it were moonshine, and the farther they went the lighter it got. At last they got to a spot where there were such green hills, knee-deep in grass, and on them fed a large herd of kine, who grazed as they went; but for all they ate those kine looked poor, and thin, and wretched.

"What's all this?" said the lad who had been bridegroom; "why are they so thin and in such bad case, though they eat, every one of them, as though they were well paid to eat?"

"This is a likeness of those who never can have enough, though they rake and scrape it together ever so much," said the dead man.

So they journeyed on far and farther than far, till they came to some hill pastures, where there was naught but bare rocks and stones, with here and there a blade of grass. Here was grazing another herd of kine, which were so sleek, and fat, and smooth that their coats shone again.

"What are these," asked the bridegroom, "who have so little to live on, and yet are in such good plight? I wonder what they can be."

"This," said the dead man, "is a likeness of those who are content with the little they have, however poor it be."

So they went farther and farther on till they came to a great lake, and it and all about it was so bright and shining that the bridegroom could scarce bear to look at it - it was so dazzling.