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All felt as if life and death hung on the issue. It was only when the cable was brought over the bow and on the deck that men dared to breathe. Even then they hardly believed their eyes. Some crept toward it to see it, feel of it, to be sure it was there. Then they carried it along to the electrician's room to see if the long-sought treasure was alive or dead. A few minutes of suspense, and a flash told of the lightning current again set free. Some turned away and wept, others broke into cheers, and the cry ran from ship to ship, while rockets lighted up the darkness of the sea.

With thankful hearts they turned their faces again to the west; but soon the wind rose, and for thirty-six hours they were exposed to all the dangers of a storm on the Atlantic. Yet in the very height and fury of the gale a flash of light, which having crossed to Ireland returned to them in mid-ocean, told them that the friends whom they had left behind on the banks of the Hudson were well, and following them with their wishes and their prayers. This was like the whisper of God from the sea, bidding them keep heart and hope.

And now, after all those thirteen years of almost superhuman struggle, and that one moment of almost superhuman victory, we may safely include Cyrus W. Field among the masters of the situation.

-James T. Field.


How sweet the chime of the Sabbath bells !
Each one its creed in music tells,
In tones that float upon the air,
As soft as song, as pure as prayer.
And I will put in simple rhyme
The langnage of the golden chime:
My happy heart with rapture swells
Responsive to the bells-sweet bells.

“ In deeds of love excel! excel!”
Chimed out from ivied towers a bell;
“ This is the church not built on sands,
Emblem of one not built with hands;

Its forms and sacred rights revere ;
Come, worship here! come, worship here!
In rituals and faith excel !”
Climed out the Episcopalian bell.

Oh! heed the ancient landmarks well!”
In solemn tones exclaimed a bell.
“No progress made by mortal man
Can change the just, eternal plan.
With God there can be nothing new;
Ignore the false, embrace the true,
While, all is well! is well! is well!”
Pealed forth the Presbyterian bell.

“Oh, swell! ye purifying waters, swell!” In mellow tones rang out a bell.

Though faith alone in Christ can save, Man must be plunged beneath the wave, To show the world unfaltering faith Is what the Sacred Scriptures saith. Oh, swell! ye rising waters, swell!” Pealed out the clear-toned Baptist bell.

“ To all the truth we tell! we tell !”
Shouted in ecstasies a bell.
“Come, all ye weary wanderers, see!
Our Lord has made salvation free!
Repent, believe, have faith, and then
Be saved, and praise the Lord. Amen!
Salvation's free, we tell! we tell !”
Shouted the Methodistic bell.


Merrily swinging o'er briar and weed,

Near to the nest of his little dame,
Over the mountain side or mead,
Robert of Lincoln is telling his name,



Snug and safe is this nest of ours,
Hidden among the summer flowers.


Robert of Lincoln is gayly dressed,

Wearing a bright, black wedding coat; White are his shoulders and white his crest, Hear him call in his merry note,


Look! what a nice, new coat is mine ;
Sure there was never a bird so fine.


Six white eggs on a bed of hay,

Flecked with purple—a pretty sight-
There, as the mother sits all day,
Robert is singing with all his might,-


Nice good wife that never goes out;
Keeping house while I frolic about.


Soon as the little ones chip the shell,

Six wide mouths are open for food; Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well, Gathering seeds for the hungry brood.


This new life is likely to be
Hard for a gay young fellow like me.


Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife,

Pretty and modest, with plain brown wings, Passing at home a patient life, Broods in the nest while her husband sings,


Brood, kind creature ! you need not fear
Thieves or robbers while I am here.


Modest and shy as a nun is she;

One weak whirr is her only note. Braggart and prince of braggarts is he, Pouring boasts from his little throat,


Never was I afraid of man;
Catch me, cowardly knave, if you can.


Robert of Lincoln at last is made

Sober with work, and silent with care.
Off are his holiday garments laid ;
Half forgotten the merry air, -


No one knows but my mate and I
Where our nest and nestlings lie.


Summer wanes—the children are grown

Fun and frolic no more he knows; · Robert of Lincoln 's a humdrum crone ; Off he flies, and we sing as he goes, –



When you can pipe that merry old strain,
Robert of Lincoln, come back again.




Edwin Arnold, the author of the well known “Light of Asia," and editor of the London Daily Telegraph, contributes the following touching poem :

“Whose tomb have they builded, Vittoo, under the tamarind tree? With its door of the rose-veined marble, and white dome stately to


Was he holy Brahmin, or Gogi, or a king of the Rajput line,
Whose urn rests here by the river, in the shade of this beautiful


“May it please you," quoth Vittoo, salaaming, “Protector of all

the Poor! It was not for holy Brahmin they carved that delicate door, Nor for Gogi, nor Rajput Rana, did they build this gem of our

land, But to tell of a Rajput woman, as long as the stones should stand !

“Her name was Mộti, the pearl-name! 'T was far in the ancient

times, But her moonlight face and her teeth of pearl are sung of still in

our rhymes ; And because she was young and comely, and of good repute, and

had laid A babe in the arms of her husband, the Palace Nurse she was


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