OUR YOUNG FOLKS' COLUMN.

Mataura Ensign, Issue 1170, 16 April 1903, Page 3

OUR YOUNG FOLKS' COLUMN.

[Edited by Uncle Phil.] RULES. All letters for the week's publication should reach the office not later than Monday afternoon. 2. Correspondents should write on only one side of the paper. 3. All correspondents mast send their real names, not necessarily for publication. All letters should be addressed thus : Press M.S.S. UNCLE PHIL, Ensigh Office, Gore. OUR MOTTO : Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might. Dear Boys and Girls, — I am announcing an Essay Competition this week. Through the generosity of " Dick Stanhope," a first prize of seven shillings and sixpence, and a second of two shillings and sixpence, are offered for an Essay on The Game of Eugby Football. The conditions are the following : 1. Competitors must be under seventeen years of age. 2. The Competition is open to all, whether eorrespondents or not. 8. The Essays become the property of Uncle Phil, to be used by him in any way he chooses. 4. The Essays must reach the Ensign Office not later than the 30th day of April. 5. Competitors will send their own names in a sealed envelope, but will write a pen-name only on the essay; either at the beginning or the end, whichever they choose. Nearly every boy knows about football ; it now remains to be seen who can put his knowledge of the game into the clearest English. I hope v>e shall have a large number of competitors, and that the boys will show as much ability in writing about the game as in playing it.

I think the cables of the last few weeks have been significant of great issues. You will have noticed that the King has visited Portugal l and been received with delight, seemingly by all classes. Why did the King visit Portugal ? You will remember how much trouble England had at the beginning of the Boer war through the landing of supplies of ammunition and arms for the Boers at Delagoa Bay. The seizure of a German ship reported to be laden with war material there, led to some unpleasantness with Germany, and the payment of heavy damages for delaying the ship. It might have formed a pretext for Germany's joining the Boers. Now Delagoa Bay belongs to Portugal, and the Boers might, through that port, import weapons that one day could be used against England's supremacy in South Africa. It may be that, one of these days, as the result of the King's visit, we shall hear that Delagoa Bay has either been leased or bought from Portugal.

Another cable tells us that the British Government has bought a large piece of land around lnverkeithing Bay "from Lord Rosebery and the Marquis of Linlithgow, formerly the Earl of Hopetoun. This Bay on the east coast of Scotland is to be formed into a great naval station, and is to be the home of a new squadron of ships to be called the North Sea Squadron. Germany does not like this move, lnverkeithing Bay lies nearly opposite to the great Kiel canal through which German warships would pass in war time in order to get from the Baltic Sea into the open ocean. The formation of this new naval base and squadron is certainly a source of unrest in the Fatherland; and, by way of a checkmate, the Kaiser has just visited Denmark with the purpose, it is thought, of making a naval alliance with the Danes. This in Germany will appear as a set-off against Britain's North Sea base.

France and England have been unfriendly for a good many years; twice during the last ten years having been on the verge of war ; once about Siam, the other time about their respective rights on the Nile in the Fashoda region. Now, however, we read that the King is visiting Paris, and that he is to get a cordial reception. Further the two Governments are inclined to become distinctly friendly, and to agree to arrange in a friendly way some long-standing differences. It is even said that so strong is this friendliness that President Loubet is likely to visit England a few months hence. Let us hope a thoroughly good understanding with France will come about. There is no reason why the French should distrust Britain. But there is another cable which states that a South Atlantic Squadron with bases at Gibraltar and Sierra Leone, is to be formed. Where are all the ships and men to come from to keep up present stations to their normal strength and yet equip two.new ones? England's far biggest squadrons are situated in the English Channel and the Mediterranean Sea. The only territory held by Britain in the Mediterranean is Malta, Gozo and Cyprus. Malta and Gozo are of value only as a naval station. Cyprus is of no great importance; and unless Egypt is considered to be British, it is hard to see why England has so many giant ships in the Mediterranean. She holds the entrance to it at both ends; at Gibraltar with the West, and Aden with Perim Island in the East. So all this leads up to the question whether or not Britain intends to abandon the Mediterranean Sea, and set free her great fleet there to operate in the great oceans. Everything, it is said, comes to him who waits ; and it is possible that if we wait long enough the evacuation of the Mediterranean Sea by the British fleet may be one of those things that will come to us. Think over these thipgs and watch. Uncle Phil.

Dear Uncle Phil,—ln ray last letter 1 promised to tell you about my holiday which 1 had at Clyde. 1 started away on the 22nd December to Dunedin. Six miles this side of Clinton the engine broke down, and we had to wait an hour and a-half, but when we did start we shifted. The next morning 1 had to start at 8 o'clock on the Otago Central railway. ' The train went very slowly, having to go up and down hills all the way. It went through thirteen tunnels between Dunedin and Ida Valley, where the railway ends. One side of the railway was high mountains, while .on the

other was a river hundreds of feet below.. If anything went wrong with the railway there would be no show of escaping. There might be a hope of jumping across the river to the other side, but'it is so steep that one could not stay there. After the train was finished with, 1 had to go fifty miles in the coach, which was very tiresome. When 1 got half way 1 had tea at Ophir. New horses were then put in, and we started on again. 1 got to my destination at 10 o'clock on Christmas Eve. 1 can tell you 1 slept soundly that night. On Christmas Day it waß.just scorching hot, a heat 1 was not used to. While 1 was away 1 crossed the Manuherikia river in two different chairs, which were a great distance above the water. One day my cousin and 1 went out to a dredge that was not in the river. 1 was sitting in a boat at the side of the dredge, while my cousin was on the edge of it. All of a sudden 1 heard a great splash, and when 1 looked round my cousin was swimming to the dredge. It was a good thing he could swim, if not, he would have been taken under the dredge. Another day both of us went to a coal-pit. To get into the pit we had to go down sixty feet in a cage. The man then took us all through the pit, some of which goes under the Clutha river. Clyde is just another little China; there was about two white people for every Chinaman. On their New Year's day they would give you anything you wanted. Water is so scarce in summer that it is running down each side of the street. An iron pipe is under the footpath into everybody's garden. When the garden wants to be watered they just need to block it on the street, and it runs through the pipe to the garden. The Clutha river has got very many dredges working in it, some of which are driven by electricity. The coal waggons up there are drawn by twelve horses, because the roads are so hilly and rough. Coal pits are also very plentiful. The morning 1 left 1 had to start at 3 o'clock, which was very unpleasant. When 1 reached Ophir 1 had a very good breakfast. Black's hill, which is a very long one, took two hours to go over. The coach reached the station about half-past eleven. Some people might think there would be grand scenery from the railway, but there are only rocks and hills ai far as can be seen. When six o'clock came, the train arrived at Dunedin. The next day 1 went up to Woodhaugh, to see my friends. At nine o'clock the next morning I started back home again. 1 enjoyed myself first-rate while 1 was away. 1 thank you very much for the Christmas card which you sent to me. It has been terrible weather here lately, and 1 hope it will not keep so. As this is all the news at present, 1 will close. 1 remain,

Mahk Antony. P.S.—Please excuse all the mistakes.—M.

[You had a fine trip, though it I must have been somewhat tiring. 1 am obliged to you for the account you have given us, and hope you will write soon again.—U.P.] A SCHOOL EPISODE. (By Jessie).A thrill of excitement ran through the boys assembled in the schoolroom. The head-master had just made known to them, a splendid opportunity. The boys were very much interested, but a warning word from Mr Gregory checked their eager whispers. " None of that, boys," he said, " wait until you are outside." In a few minutes the irksome re--1 straint was over, and the lads gathered in the grounds to discuss the matter. Cliques took it into consideration as it concerned them. In the centre of the largest of these groups a boy stood, listening to his companions. " You'll get it easily," one said, " if you try." "1 shall try," Burton answered, " £SO a year for three years, and free education at the High School. It is worth the effort." The boys around agreed with their hero, and looked at him anxiously. Presently another lad sauntered up and joined himself to the outskirts of the groups. He listened to the Burtonites 'for a little while, and then, touching his chum's arm, the two strolled away. "What do you honestly think, Willis?" he asked, "will Burton win ?" " Yes, if he tries," Willis Anderson answered. "What of Blake? he is the best worker, although he is not as brilliant as Burton" Harris said, looking across the playground to a boy who stood alone, reading. Anderson hesitated, and then answered slowly and thoughtfully, "If Burton works, Blake has not the ghost of a show, but, if not . . ." The sentence was concluded by a meaning silence. Let me explain a littleThe place around which the interest of this tale gathers is Winston Grammar School. An ex-pupil, who had pleasant recollections of the old place, had made a generous offer to the scholars. He had offered to pay the fees for a three years' finishing at Winchester High School, and moreover, to give £SO a year for incidental expenses to the boy who attained the highest point of perfection in his studies for the year. It was a splendid offer, and one which incited the boys to work. Nevertheless, the real competition centred round two boys, Burton and Blake. Burton was clever, very, but he was unstable. Blake was not exceptionally clever, but he was steady and sure. Unlike Burton, he had been silent concerning his intentions. Nevertheless, his mind was made up to work. The weeks passed by, and the first excitement had calmed ; of course, the i matter was not forgotten, but the attraction of novelty had worn off, and other interests claimed the attention of the boys. In one heart, however, the thought of the possibility of winning the highest place of honor, and consequently the coveted £SO and free schooling, acted as an incentive to study. Most of Tom Blake's spare time was spent over his books. Six months had passed since the commencement of the year. One day Tom Blake and Willis Anderson met ip the village street. It was Saturday, and Willis exclaimed in surprise at seeing his school-fellow. Blake laughed. " I am grinding haool," hft,.said, " but I mast have a spell nowvand then."

"Of course," Anderson assented quickly, and then he addedin a lower tone, "you will win Blake, unless Burton alters his style. He is too sure, and he is doing nothing much." That was all, but the conversation lingered in Blake's mind. "Silly ass," he muttered to himself, " I must tell him I am made of different' stuff, or else he will think that I have stolen a mean advantage." Accordingly he sought Burton on the Monday. In the course of conversation Mr Thompson's offer was mentioned. ' There was an awkward silence for a moment after this topic was touched on. Blake broke it.

"It is only fair to tell you that I am working hard, Burton," he said abruptly. The other laughed. "Thank you, I know," and the scornful, confident tone wounded Blake. He crimsoned " I am not a conceited ass," with emphasis, " but I want you to know that if you get first place it won't be my fault." Then he turned on his heel and walked away, holding his head high. Burton looked after him angrily. " Cheek!" he muttered, " but I must grind." Another six months have flown, and it is the day that will decide which is the fortunate boy. There is a deep silence in the schoolroom. Every boy is racking his brains to answer the difficult questions which face him.

Blake has already commenced to work. He writes steadily with a hopeful heart. Once or twice he steals a glance at Burton. The latter is writing quickly, but his whole attitude is expressive of uneasiness. Blake feels sorry for his rival. Burton has never studied seriously throughout the year, and yet he hopes to succeed. " Poor beggar, it will be a' blow to him!" Blake muttered, and then he started hastily, collected his vagrant wits and resumed his work.

At last he is finished and, with a sigh of relief, he gathers his papers and takes them to the master's desk. The room is pretty well deserted, and as he goes out Blake notices that Burton is not in his place. " I suppose he found it too hard a matter to try and go ' deep down' in his answers as I did, and, therefore, skimmed over them," he thinks.

You will have noticed that Blake seems very sure of his own position. There is no merit in mock-modesty. Blake has worked, Burton has not, and the former is perfectly right in concluding that success ought to come to him. Nevertheless, Blake was disappointed, and Burton came out first in the examination.

Let us pass over the disappointed lad's sorrow. It was great, but not hopeless. His one opportunity was gone, and he determined to take the blow like a man. Of course, regrets would creep in, but he stifled them.

Tom Blake was in a discouraged mood. A week had passed since his great disappointment, and he is just commencing to understand what it really meant. He is the only son of his mother, and she is a widow. His school days are done, and it behoves him to look for a situation. Winston is only a small village, and the only opening which presents itself is that of errand boy in the grocer's shop. It goes sorely against tie grain to give up his hopes of something different. Suddenly there was a sharp cry, and, hearing it, Blake took to his heels and ran in the direction from whence it came.

Not far away there was a lagoon, and instinct told the boy the reason of that shriek. As he reached the bank he yaw a boy struggling in the water. Even as he looked the boy sank, but, not before Blake had recognised his successful rival, Burton. Throwing oil" his coat, Blake sprang in; he could swim, and he knew Burton could not. The drowning boy rose to the surface, and Blake seized his clothes. "Don't struggle, Burton," he said, " trust yourself to, me." Burton remained passive, and his would-be rescuer sup-

ported him. It was a severe tax, but, thank God, help waa at-hand. Others besides Blake had been alarmed by that cry of fear. Two men had reaohed the bank, and one of them sprang into the water.

" Don't exhaust yourself. Just keep afloat, and I'll look after your friend," he called; then with a few powerful strokes he found himself beside the two boys. He took the now unconsoious Burton and swam to the bank. Tom, relieved of his burden; easily followed, and soon all were on dry land. • Burton soon came round, and explained that while bathing he had got out of his depth. His thanks were curt and unwillingly spoken, but the reason of that was explained next day. Burton went to Mr Gregory, the schoolmaster, and confessed. Just before the examination—two. days before—he had been in the master's study. A slip of paper attracted his eyes. A hurried glance assured him that this paper contained-many of the questions relating to the subjects for the examination. The temptation was too great to be resisted. With a hurried glance he scanned the list, and then made some important notes. He crammed these subjects and„so passed successfully. Blake was really the winner.

Blake's feelings on hearing of his schoolfellow's wrong-doing were mixed. Surprise and disgust mingled with pleasure at the thought of his own good fortune. Then he thought of Burton's humiliation and disappointment. A generous impulse came to him. He would endeavour to divide Mr Thompson's kindness. He would keep £lO and give the rest to Burton to help him to study. 80 it came to pass that this schoolboy returned good for evil.

Dear Uncle Phil, —We ■ aro just beginning to thing it time we wrote to you again. All the farmers up this way are busy harvesting now whenever they can get a fine day. The cutting and all other harvest work is kept back considerably by wet foggy weather, The shooting season is now open, and we hear of some sportsmen making very good bags. We were out for a few hours this morning with the guns and waded through swamps and creeks for about three hours, till all at once we came on a lagoon with a fair number of ducks on it, and we fired two shots and bagged eleven of them, and so we reckoned we did fairly well. We took a ride round the country recently on our bikes on a beautiful day to see a lot of your correspondents, and had a fine time of it. We met Mr Dick, Blatherskite, Long Tim, Micky, Nae a Laddie, and Polly Perkins, and had a long yarn. We went down to a dredge in the afternoon and to a meeting in the evening, and got home quite happy about midnight, though we must confess it was not very good hours for old people like ourselves to keep. We think the MummißS were quite right when they said we looked vastly uncomfortable stooking in the wet, for that is not the nicest job a person can get. We were led to believe that one of the Mummies enjoyed seeing us in that state, as she just stood and laughedat us and asked us if we had been sweating. We have got two Australian chaps harvesting for us, and they are always laughing .at Southland for being so cold. They feel it after coming out of the heat and drought of Australia, but for all that, cold and wet as Southland is, it is far ahead of Australia. We are just going to have tea now, so we must close this scrawl and get to work and let you have a little peace. We close now with love to all our cousins and yourself. We are, yours truly Tue Patiakchs. [You could easily write oftener. You certainly had a long day of it. One is the better for being thoroughly tired out now and agairi. What fine harvest days these are—U.P.]

Dear Uncle Phil, —I thought I might sit down to tell you something about the Tokonui Gorge. The crops are nearly all ripe, but the weather is very wet, so that the crops cannot get cut. The ilax mills are working, and the sawmill is at work also. Qur picnic is on Easter Monday; I am going to it and I expect to have some fun. I hope there are plenty of races, so that I might win something. The last picnic day was wet, so that there was no fun. But I hope this one will not be wet. There was a terrible accident a few weeks ago at a flax mill close to us. A man got into the belts of the machinery and was killed. I think the little folks' society would be a good thing. Now I think I will stop. With love to all my cousins, not forgetting yourself, I remain, yours sincerely Stockman. [I too hope for good weather just now, not only for holiday-makers but for the farmers, who must be having an anxious time. Let me know how you got on at the picnic—U.P.]

Dear Uncle Phil,—Just a few lines to let you know that I had the pleasure of listening to the Premier when delivering his speech on Friday evening, and must say that, if his figures are correct, we are, as he remarked, living in the most prosperous country in the world. .1 also read A Friend's interesting letter with regard to forming an Uncle Phil Society last week, and hope that the society will soon be an accomplished fact. Could not a literary and debating club be included in the programme of the proposed society would tend to educate the young; as Jerome K. Jerome says in " Paul Kelver," " You can't think what education is to a man. I don't mean it helps you* to get on in the world; I think that it rather hampers you. But it helps you to bear adversity. To a man with a well-stored mind, life is interesting on a piece of bread and a cup of tea." I will try and get you a short story ready for next week.—Yours, etc., Pbo Bono Publico. [I am obliged to you for your letter, private note and literary publications. About the last I shall do as you desire. I hope you will find Gore a congenial home. lam not quite sure about a literary society in connection with our proposed club. There is a Young Men's as well as a Young Ladies' Literary Society in Gore already, besides a newly-formed one in the Presbyterian Church. I have two. tales on hand at present, and will be* glad toitave yours soon U,P.j Dear Uncle Phil,—Most of the

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tired out, after our much-enjoyed ride to Moke Flat and back. Well,; dear! Uncle, I will have to stop after I" thank you kindly for the nice Christmas cards, also the auto forms jou sent me. So with love to all my cousins and yourself, I remain yous loving nephew, Pbince Abthtjb. P.S.—I should be very pleased to exchange autos with any of the U.P.N's. who are agreeable. If they address them to Prince Arthur, Arthur's Point, via Queenstown, I will get them all right.—P.A. [Thank you for your description of your ride up that rugged district. I can see that big mountain now, round the side of which you would go. Memory lingers lovingly over the days spent in your district. It has a rugged grandeur all its own. Write again soon.—U.P.]

LOST. (ByDaisi). I am going ta tell you a little incident whioh happened tar away from here.ia a land where none of as have ever been. On a little hillock at the edge of the forest stood a cottage, a quaint little building with creepers covering the walls, so that it looked like'a bower of greenery. At the back of the cottage rose numerous hills, clothed with dark , bnsb, intermingled here and there with the beautiful colors of nature. In the front of : the house lay large, very, very large tracts of • gray sandy looking land, looking indeed , what it was, a wide trackless desert. In : the little cottage mentioned lived a man ! named Ostel Kahmaer, and his wife Resina, j and their one child, a bright girl named , Ishmel.

One bright morning, very early, before the scorching sun began to mount up in the sky, Bciina sent her daughter Ishmel to a neighbor's place, their only neighbor for miles and miles of dreary oountry, with an important message. Her path skirted the edge of the forest, and early in the morning she started on her. journey. As she walked along she was charmed with the sights and sounds around her, bat she was to hurry, before the sun would take bis noontide place in the sky, The birds trilled sweetly in the green trees, sending forth their pure, melodious music in the fullness of tbeir hearts. Little they cared whether tbe animals of the earth were there to listen, but as though vieing with each other in their efforts to produce the most perfect sounds. The country round was a land of song, of praise, of joy, and of music. Ishmel longed to enter the forest when the sun rose, but this she knew was forbidden.

" Remember, my dangher," said Resina, as en every previous occasion, " remember to keep to the straight path. It is worn and marked by the feet of mankind, and therefore cannot be missed. Enter not the great pathless forest, for it contains nothing but darkness, and from it there is no exit. Remember, my child, and happiness, peace, and the knowledge that you are doing right, will be your constant companions." " I do not feel at ease to-day," said Resina to ber husband, after Ishmael had been gone for some time. " I seem to have a presentiment similar to the one I bad when Oraul went away, never to return." "Do not fear," said Ostel, "I will-go to meet her. "so all will be well," and, embracing his wife, he left ber. His heart was sad, he knew not wby, and anything was better than inaction. Over the country where Ishmael had trodden that very morning where lie had tramped, but walking was tiresome, for tbe sun was now very hot. He longed, longed almost beyond endurance to enter tbe cool inviting forest, but temptation is soon resisted by the strong. When he reached the neighbor's place, he knew what had happened. Ishmael had been there early that morning, and had at once left for home, and that was hours ago. And where was she now. No one knew nothing could tell save the birds and beasts of the forest. On the return journey the scorching rays of tbe sun, which seemed to glow in the leaden sky, beat down on the surface of the earth with such force that tbe ground became hardened and cracked, and Ishmael, who had lingered and who should have already been at home, was so hot, tired, and weary that she could hardly walk. Equally forgetful and careless with the pitiless heat, she could no longer refuse those entreating giants of the forest, which, stretching out their cool arms to her, murmured in dreamy abandon. She knew nothing. She heard naught save the sweet murmur of the trees, and entering timidly on that forbidden soil she was soon surrounded. Her heart beat wildly, the pitiless heat of the sun died away, and the gentle calmness of tbe forest caressed her wet and aching brow, Entering further and further and thinking not, but with her body and soul wholly given over to the intoxicating pleasures of the moment, she came to a spot so perfect, so inviting, that with a sigh of satisfaction she sank upon the soft earth. The birds sang overhead and the leaves of the forest moved gently to and fro, sighing and murmuring as though protesting against the outrage of which they were the victims. Ishmel, listening, was enchanted, and cared but for the present. Her head drooped, her eyes closed, and the music of the forest lulled her to sleep. The evening was approaching, and the sun would soon be setting, leaving behind him but little traco of his day's work. Ishmel smiled dreamily. Lulled to rest by the melancholy music of the forest, she had been led to a world of magic sifrhts and sounds. She had trodden in rosy dreams through many a fairyland of golden fame unknown to man, where the fairy spirits sang and played with the birds, where tbe sun never rose to scorching heights, but where the cool of evening always reigned, and green • trees grew in profusion. A land of joy where the inhabitants, with garlands of flowers on flowers on their brows, played on tbe green and skimmed over the waters of the silvery ocean; where babbling brooks sang all day, running between velvety lawns, on which the fairy forms rested. Ishmel jumped with a start. Her dreams in fancy were leading ber over a bridge of glass, varying as the colors of the rainbow, when it suddenly snapped beneath her feet, and she was falling, falling, where, she knew not, only it was awful to be goinp down, down, to fathomless depths. Shuddering, she opened ber eyes, and sprang to her feet. The dreadful sensation of her imaginative descent seemed to hold her, and all tbo rosy dreams of a few minutes before had vanished. Where she was she knew not, when suddenly to her memery came the words, " Enter not tbe pathless forest, for once entered on there is no exit." And did she do as she was bid, and was there no exit ? Ske smiled. Her heart was brave, and not for a moment did sbe think that she was really lost. Before her, in a straight line, she could see a space which showed the sun's rays. Sbe would go to it; and, refreshed - from her recent sleep, she started at once. She thought when Bhe reached the clearing it' would be easy to find her way to tbe beaten track on the outskirts of the forest. Gently pushing aside the tangled undergrowth, she made her way ahead, but when she reached what was a moment before ber star of hope, she found it to be only a place where the dense canopy overhead parted, to allow the entrance of the blight rayg of the sun. Undismayed, she started again for such another bright spot in

the distance, and yet another and another, but no bright spot brought her to the path sho bad bo willingly left—the path of life. On and on she we at, ever longing, thinking, hoping against hope, until the gb'nt of the setting son showed by. dark shadows the gaunt forms of the forest giants against a background of tangled greenery, and then she knew that night, blaek as the raven's wing, was approaoaing. With a shuddering,sob she rushed on wildly, tearing her clothes on the thorny hashes, when not far in front she perceived a towering monster of the forest, whose head seemed to rise and rear far into sky. This she decided to climb, and mounting upon the lower branches, she climbed up, up, how far she knew not, bnt with hand rising above hand, now trembling lest her foothold should snap, now with renewed vigor, she still went up that perilous height. And when she reaches the topmost branohes what does her eye behold ? In all directions, rising and falling like the waves of the ocean, lay the dense forest. No clearing was to be peroeived. At that moment a breeze sprang up and the trees tossed their heads to and fro until the forest looked like a seething, tempestuous restless ocean. The branches rose and fell, and Ishmel, forgetful of the future, realised only her present danger, and prepared to descend. Upon reaching the ground black despair faced her. Alone in the forest, far from home, and no hope to guide, to lead her on. " Lost, lost." were the only sounds which seemed to ring through the dreary forest. Death ever present with her even though in life, she rushed blindly forward, tumbling over fallen trunks and tearing her clothes to shreds. " Lost, Lost," what did those words bring in their train ?—darkness, oblivion, death. Suoh a position might well be the means of depriving a strong man of his senses, and she was but a child, gentle and cared for. Sobbing in the fullness of her breaking heart, the wind caught the wailing sounds and bore them far into the awful darkness of the coming night. The trees bent their backs to the storm, for the wind bad risen, and was shrieking and whistling as it passed through the branches. The forest fiends were let loose and wild with joy in their liberty, they rushed on over the.forest, careless of the little stranger who had ventured to enter their land, only carrying in mocking tones far over the topmost trees ber moans of hopeless misery. And still Ishmel pressed on, now rushing against a cold and rough trunk, now trampling over a thorny bush, and anon falling headlong on the soft earth. The wind abating, the trees murmured in sympathy, and the stillness of death pervaded, broken only by that pitiable, moaning, tearful cry, which rose and echoed through the forest, and, dying away, left in memory's ear a sound sadder than bitter tears. The stillness iB ominous, for the night is black. Such stillness is not real, for the clouds above are scudding through the sky with lightning speed. Suddenly, and without warning, a flash of vivid lightning reveals the forest, lighting up the darkness with a blue lurid light, which passing, leaves the earth in darkness more appalling than before. Then comes a low sound, a rumble, growing fiercer and louder; the mighty forest is shaken to its foundation by the mightier force of that destructive agent of nature. This is followed by another and another peal louder and more distinct than before, all the while the forest being lit up by that peculiar lightning ray. ißhmel, lying on a soft bed of moss where she fell, is powerless to move, but lies fasoinated. Suddenly a low hissing sound, accompanied by claps of thunder, is heard approaching, and the forest, the victim of the furies that are let loose upon it, bends and swayß, moaning and crying aloud. The hurricane is at its highest, and the trees which have stood in the golden sun of morning for countless ageß, are torn from the protecting earth and hurled away with derisive foroe, shrieking in protestation. Bißing in the air in the arms of the furies, the forest giants shriek, and sob, and moan as the life is rudely torn from them. But the storm is as short as it is severe ; and tne rain, descending in torrents, restores some quietness to the troubled earth.

But Ishmel feels it not. She is once again with her father and mother, and is happy, but a shadow is coming between them, and tbey are parted yet again. Oraul, the missing Oraul, is approaching. He has come to guide her safely from the black forest to see the path she had left, and, rising, she went hand in hand with him. The rain still feel, and the trees—the sole watcherssobbed increasingly ; for, near by, on a soft bed of green moss, lay a cold still form, shrouded in tattered rags. Only the birds and the trees of the forest know of that earthly resting place, and the sweet feathered creatured often in the early morning, and in the twilight, when the sun has set, come and sing a dirge over that childish form. Life! What a sacrifice some are willing to give for a few hours of earthly pleasures, but let us hope and pray that only earthly life is lost, and by the gates of repentance we may come back to the sunshine of a truer life, t And the sorrowing parents, alone and uncared for ; surely their reward will be forthcoming in the dim future, when earthly ties shall bend them to earth no longer, and they too shall enter into Life.