And tell my daughter Annie, whom I saw
So like her mother, that my latest breath.
Was spent in blessing her and praying for her.
And tell my son that I died blessing him.
And say to Philip that I blest him too;

He never meant us anything but good.
children care to see me dead,

But if

my

Who hardly knew me living, let them come,
I am their father; but she must not come,
For
my dead face would vex her after-life.
And now there is but one of all my
blood
Who will embrace me in the world-to-be:
This hair is his: she cut it off and gave it,
And I have borne it with me all these years.
And thought to bear it with me to my grave;
But now my mind is changed, for I shall see him,
My babe in bliss: wherefore when I am gone,
Take, give her this, for it may comfort her:
It will moreover be a token to her,

That I am he."

He ceased; and Miriam Lane

Made such a voluble answer promising all,
That once again he roll'd his eyes upon her
Repeating all he wished, and once again
She promised.

Then the third night after this,
While Enoch slumber'd motionless and pale,
And Miriam watch'd and dozed at intervals,
There came so loud a calling of the sea,
That all the houses in the haven rang.

He woke, he rose, he spread his arms abroad,
Crying with a loud voice, "A sail! a sail!

I am saved;" and so fell back and spoke no more.

So past the strong heroic soul away.
And when they buried him the little port
Had seldom seen a costlier funeral.

BEHIND TIME

FREEMAN HUNT

NOTE TO THE PUPIL. Freeman Hunt was born in Quincy, Mass., in 1804. In 1839 he became owner and editor of the Merchant's Magazine. He published "Lives of American Merchants."

A

RAILROAD train was rushing along at almost lightning speed. A curve was just ahead, beyond which was a station, at which two trains usually met. The conductor was late, so late that the period during which the up-train was to wait had nearly elapsed; but he hoped yet to pass the curve safely. Suddenly a locomotive dashed into sight right ahead. In an instant there was a collision. A shriek, a shock, and fifty souls were in eternity; and all because an engineer had been behind time.

A great battle was going on. Column after column had been precipitated, for eight hours, on the enemy posted on the ridge of a hill. The summer sun was sinking to the west; reënforcements for the obstinate defenders were already in sight. It was necessary to carry the position with one final charge, or everything would be lost.

A powerful corps had been summoned from across the country, and if it came in season all would yet be right. The great conqueror, confident in its arrival, formed his reserve into an attacking column, and led them down the hill. The world knows the result. Grouchy failed to appear; the Imperial Guard was beaten back; Waterloo was lost; Napoleon died a prisoner at St. Helena, because one of his marshals was behind time.

A leading firm in commercial circles had long struggled against bankruptcy. As it had large sums of money in California, it expected remittances by a certain day; and if they arrived, its credit, its honor, and its future prosperity would be preserved. But week after week elapsed without bringing the gold.

At last came the fatal day on which the firm was bound to meet bills which had been maturing to enormous amounts. The steamer was telegraphed at daybreak; but it was found, on inquiry, that she brought no funds, and the house failed. The next arrival brought nearly half a million to the insolvents, but it was too late; they were ruined because their agent, in remitting the money, had been behind time.

A condemned man was led out for execution. He had taken human life, but under circumstances of the greatest provocation; and public sympathy was active in his behalf. Thousands had signed petitions for a reprieve; a favorable answer had been expected the night before, and though it had not come, even the sheriff felt confident that it would yet arrive. Thus the morning passed without the appearance of the messenger. The last mo

ment was up.

The prisoner took his place on the drop, the cap was drawn over his eyes, the bolt was drawn, and a lifeless body hung suspended in the air. Just at that moment a horseman came into sight, galloping down hill, his steed covered with foam. He carried a packet in his right hand, which he waved frantically to the crowd. He was the express rider with the reprieve; but he came too late. A comparatively innocent man had died an ignominious death, because a watch had been five minutes too slow, making its bearer arrive behind time.

It is continually so in life. The best laid plans, the most important affairs, the fortunes of individuals, the weal of nations, honor, happiness, life itself, are daily sacrificed because somebody is "behind time." There are men who always fail in whatever they undertake, simply because they are "behind time." There are others who put off reformation year by year, till death seizes them, and they perish unrepentant, because forever "behind time."

Five minutes, in a crisis, are worth years. It is but a little period, yet it has often saved a fortune, or redeemed a people. If there is one virtue that should be cultivated more than another, it is punctuality; if there is one error that should be avoided, it is being "behind time.”

A VOICE

ALFRED AUSTIN

NOTE TO THE PUPIL. Alfred Austin was born at Headingly, England, in 1835. He was made poet laureate in 1896. He won distinction as poet, critic, and journalist. He has written political works, novels, and many volumes of verse. Public opinion is divided as to his merits as a poet. For ten years he was editor of the National Review.

WHAT is the voice I hear

On the winds of the western sea?
Sentinel, listen from out Cape Clear
And say what the voice may be.
'Tis a proud, free people, calling loud
To a people proud and free.

And it says to them: "Kinsmen, hail,

We severed have been too long.
Now let us have done with a wornout tale.
The tale of an ancient wrong;

And our friendship last long as love doth last,
And be stronger than death is strong."

Answer them, sons of the self-same race,
And blood of the self-same clan,

Let us speak with each other face to face,
And answer as man to man;

And loyally love and trust each other
As none but free men can.

Now fling them out to the breeze,
Shamrock, thistle, and rose;

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