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A Peculiar People,
682 Long" Sir Thomas Robinson, 572
ST. JAMES'S GAZETTE.
A Secret Inheritance,
of Charles I.,
Some Superstitions of the Jewish Syna- Linnæus,
A Jewish Humorist,
INDEX TO VOLUME CLXXV.
Afghan Life in Afghan Songs,
447 JEWISH Race, the, The Ubiquity of 127
472 Jefferies, Richard, and the Open Air, 432
Josephine and Maria Louisa,
Congo, the, Experiences of an English Literature for the Little Ones,
Czartoryski, Prince Adam, Memoirs of 451 Looking Backwards,
799 | Malström, The
NOVEL, the, The Present State of.
at, Unveiling of
381 PARSON, The Country, as he was and as
Funny Sayings and Answers by Juve- Pascal, the Sceptic,
Homer the Botanist,
301 Richard Cable, the Lightshipman, 139, 205
290, 351, 437, 465, 561, 632, 689, 748
No. 2258. - October 1 & 8, 1887.
Church Quarterly Review,
Blackwood's Magazine, .
Macmillan's Magazine, .
SHE AND I.
Far off, a long brown line of rocky land
Why do I love my love so well?
Why is she all in all to nie? I try to tell, I cannot tell,
It still remains a mystery. And why to her I am so dear
I cannot tell, although I try, Unless I find both answers here
She is herself, and I am I. Her face is very sweet to me,
Her eyes beam tenderly on mine; But can I say I never see
Face fairer, eyes that brighter shine? This thing I surely cannot say,
If I speak truth and do not lie; Yet here I am in love to-day,
For she's herself, and I am I. It cannot be that I fulfil
Completely all her girlish dreams; For far beyond my real still
Her old'ideal surely gleams. And yet I know her love is mine,
A flowing spring that cannot dry: What explanation? This, in fine
She is herself, and I am I.
And out amid the sea the silver trace
SIDNEY A. ALEXANDER. Cassell's Magazine.
THE ROAD TO WESTMINSTER ABBEY.
I saw thee go in dazzling pageantry
E. R. C.
INVISIBLE, unspeakable, whose voice
In the soft murmur of this neighboring sea, Blends with the sweet, strong breathings of
From the beginning everlastingly the sea.
Is thy own witness, energize my choice: The lark in heaven, the plover on the lea,
Even now, by more than half the allotted span Stray into silence, as the star that stills
Wisely assigned, the unreturning years
In timorous doubts and all too scrupulous All labor, with her silvern lamp fulfils
fears Her kindly task, and men from toil are free. Now gorgeous clouds like Tyrian tapestry
Have dwindled sore my little term of man. Engird the sun, whose light upon them thrills Richer and fairer as he leaves their halls, Must it be ever thus? even to the end Till all the glory vanishes; and lo!
Fearing to do aught lest I do the wrong, Swathed in a cloud, the little moon, new- Shall I my spirit's patrimony spend ? born,
Arise, O God! this hour and make me Steals timidly around the starry walls,
Upon the golden eyelids of the morn. One talent in the napkin buried long.