I hate to part with you, but this secures

A certain fortune. Take it if you're wise."

Byng took the advice; and then your father said, "You'll need some money, Byng, and here's a draft; Take it; a man can always hold his head

Higher with cash in hand." And then he laughed. "No thanks! "Tis bread upon the waters thrown, And may come back. If ever you be rich Pay it to me or mine, or give some one

Who needs it sorely-'tis no matter which."

I'll cut the story short. Byng made his way
There at Calcutta; all seemed cut and dried;
First, general manager; in a little day,

The junior partner; when his senior died,
Became both his successor and his heir;
And recently, the lord of lac on lac
Of good rupees, selling his business there
For a round sum, came to his country back.
Here when he landed, judge of his surprise
To find his benefactor dead, the name
Of the old firm made loathly in men's eyes;
Its olden reputation brought to shame.

Well, sir, he bought its notes, and there they are;
I am John Byng-to save your house's fame

I bought them cent per cent-paid them at par!
There, sir, your fire's improved-they're in the flame.

What, crying like a child! Let go my hand;
I'm rich beyond compute. I only do
What I can well afford. Keep self-command;
Ruin has passed-a friend shall stand by you.
The house of Erbenstone and Son is saved;'

The bread your father on the waters cast
Comes after many years; the hour I've craved
When I could pay my debt, is here at last.

THE GIVER'S REWARD.

Who gives and hides the giving hand
Nor counts on favor, fame, or praise,
Shall find his smallest gift outweighs
The burden of the sea and land.

Who gives to whom hath nought been given,
His gift in need, though small indeed
As is the grass-blade's wind-blown seed,
Is large as earth and rich as heaven.

JESSIE CAMERON.-CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI.

"Jessie, Jessie Cameron,

Hear me but this once," quoth he.
"Good luck go with you, neighbor's son,
But I'm no mate for you," quoth she.
Day was verging toward the night
There beside the moaning sea,
Dimness overtook the light

There where the breakers be.

"O Jessie, Jessie Cameron,

I have loved you long and true."

"Good luck go with you, neighbor's son,
But I'm no mate for you."

She was a careless, fearless girl,
And made her answer plain;
Outspoken she to earl or churl,
Kind-hearted in the main,

But somewhat heedless with her tongue,
And apt at causing pain;

A mirthful maiden she, and young,
Most fair for bliss or bane.
"Oh! long ago I told you so,

I tell you so to-day:

Go you your way, and let me go
Just my own free way."

The sea swept in with moan and foam
Quickening the stretch of sand;
They stood almost in sight of home;
He strove to take her hand.
"Oh, can't you take your answer then,
And won't you understand?

For me you're not the man of men,
I've other plans are planned.
You're good for Madge, or good for Cis,
Or good for Kate, may be:

But what's to me the good of this
While you're not good for me?"

They stood together on the beach,
They two alone,

And louder waxed his urgent speech,
His patience almost gone:

"Oh, say but one kind word to me,

Jessie, Jessie Cameron."

"I'd be too proud to beg," quoth she, And pride was in her tone.

And pride was in her lifted head,
And in her angry eye,

And in her foot, which might have fled,
But would not fly.

Some say that he had gypsy blood,
That in his heart was guile:

Yet he had gone through fire and flood
Only to win her smile.

Some say his grandam was a witch,
A black witch from beyond the Nile,
Who kept an image in a niche

And talked with it the while.

And by her hut far down the lane
Some say they would not pass at night,
Lest they should hear an unked strain
Or see an unked sight.

Alas, for Jessie Cameron!

The sea crept moaning, moaning nigher: She should have hastened to be gone,The sea swept higher, breaking by her: She should have hastened to her home While yet the west was flushed with fire, But now her feet are in the foam,

The sea-foam, sweeping higher.

O mother, linger at your door,

And light your lamp to make it plain.;But Jessie she comes home no more, No more again.

They stood together on the strand,
They only, each by each;

Home, her home, was close at hand,-
Utterly out of reach.

Her mother in the chimney-nook
Heard a startled sea-gull screech,
But never turned her head to look
Towards the darkening beach:
Neighbors here and neighbors there
Heard one scream, as if a bird
Shrilly screaming cleft the air:-
That was all they heard.

Jessie she comes home no more,
Comes home never;

Her lover's step sounds at his door
No more forever.

And boats may search upon the sea

And search along the river,

But none know where the bodies be:

Sea-winds that shiver,

Sea-birds that breast the blast,

Sea-waves swelling,

Keep the secret first and last

Of their dwelling.

Whether the tide so hemmed them round

With its pitiless flow,

That when they would have gone they found
No way to go;

Whether she scorned him to the last

With words flung to and fro,

Or clung to him when hope was past,
None will ever know:

Whether he helped or hindered her,
Threw up his life or lost it well,
The troubled sea, for all its stir,
Finds no voice to tell.

Only watchers by the dying

Have thought they heard one pray,
Wordless, urgent; and replying,
One seem to say him nay:

And watchers by the dead have heard
A windy swell from miles away,
With sobs and screams, but not a word
Distinct for them to say:

And watchers out at sea have caught
Glimpse of a pale gleam here or there,
Come and gone as quick as thought,
Which might be hand or hair.

THE IRREPRESSIBLE.

A cross-eyed man in a long linen ulster and a tall hat rang the bell, and when the woman of the house opened the door, she was satisfied he had an eye to the spoons (the straight eye), so she snapped:

"Madam, be calm," said the cross-eyed man, in a smooth voice.

"What for?" she queried, suspiciously.

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Madam," said the cross-eyed man, "have you a child?"

Yes, I have," replied the woman; "what of it?"

"A little girl?" queried the cross-eyed man.

"N), a boy," returned the woman.

"Of course-a boy," repeated the cross-eyed man; a young boy,-not very old?"

"About that age," said the woman; "what about him?"

Madam, do not get excited," pursued the cross-eyed man; "be brave and calm."

"Mercy on me!" exclaimed the woman, in surprise; "what's the matter?"

"Gently, gently," said the cross-eyed man, in a soothing manner; "restrain yourself. Did not that little boy go out to play this morning?"

"Yes, yes," said the woman, excitedly; "what-why-is there anything the matter?"

"Is there not a railroad track crosses the next street?" queried the cross-eyed man, in a solemn voice.

"Yes, oh yes," ejaculated the woman, in great fear; “oh, tell me what has happened! what-"

"Be calm," interrupted the cross-eyed man, soothingly; "be brave-keep cool-for your child's sake."

"Oh, what is it, what is it?" wailed the woman, wildly; "I knew it-I feared it. Tell me the worst, quick! Is my child-where is my darling boy?"

"Madam," replied the cross-eyed man, gently, "I but this moment saw a little boy playing upon the railroad track; as I looked upon him he seemed to be-"

"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" screamed the woman, wringing her hands; "tell me the worst. Is he-"

"He seemed to be daubing himself with oil," continued the cross-eyed man, quickly drawing a bottle from his pocket, "and I've got here the best thing in the world— Lightning Grease Eradicator-only twenty-five cents a bottle, warranted-"

There was a broom standing behind the door, and with one blow she knocked his tall hat over his eyes, and with another waved him off the steps and through the gate. And as the cross-eyed man moved swiftly up the street she shook the broom at him, looking for all the world like an ancient god of mythology with a passion-distorted face and highly excited red arms.