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Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow,
From the clovers lift your head;

Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot,
Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow,
Jetty, to the milking shed.

If it be long, aye, long ago,

When I beginne to think howe long,

Againe I hear the Lindis flow,

Swift as an arrowe, sharpe and strong,
And all the air it seemeth mee

Bin full of floating bells (sayth shee),
That ring the tune of Enderby.

Alle fresh the level pasture lay,

And not a shadowe mote be seene,
Save where full fyve good miles away
The steeple towered from out the greene:
And lo the great bell farre and wide
Was heard in all the country side
That Saturday at eventide.

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 down;
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 downe 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 cryed) "is downe,

The rising tide comes on apace,

And boats adrift in yonder .owne

Go sailing uppe the market-place." He shook as one that looks on death:

"God save you, mother!" straight he sayth; "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 sea,
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 up 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 down 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 sate 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;

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And didst thou visit him no more?

Thou didst, thou didst, 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,
Down drifted to thy dwelling place.

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 sayth),
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,

Come uppe Lightfoot, rise and follow ;

Lightfoot, Whitefoot,

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

LXVIII.

THE NEW CHURCH ORGAN.

WILL M. CARLETON.

They've got a bran new organ, Sue,
For all their fuss and search;
They've done just as they said they'd do,
And fetched it into church.

They're bound the critter shall be seen,
And on the preacher's right,

They've hoisted up their new machine
In everybody's sight.

They've got a chorister and choir,

Ag'in My voice and vote;

For it was never My desire

To praise the Lord by note!

I've been a sister good an' true,
For five an' thirty year;

I've done what seemed my part to do,

An' prayed my duty clear;

I've sung the hymns both slow and quick,

Just as the preacher read,

And twice, when Deacon Tubbs was sick,

I took the fork an' led!

And now, their bold, new-fangled ways

Is comin' all about;

And I, right in my latter days,

Am fairly crowded out!

To-day the preacher, good old dear,
With tears all in his eyes,
Read"I can read my title clear

To mansions in the skies."

I al'ays liked that blessed hymn-
I s'pose I al'ays will;

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