Page images
PDF
EPUB
[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

A figure rose from the ground by his side. Jack hardly knew the face, it was so worn and haggard. He looked down and saw that a large marble bird was carved on the floor at his feet, with an arrow right through its heart. I have done my penance,' said the old man in a voice still hollower, 'Come.' He placed his cloak over Jack's eyes again and led him out. I know that bird's name,' said Jack, but I can't say it, if I could I think I should remember yours.' They were outside now, and again Jack felt soft arms round his neck. Will you wear it now?' a voice whispered. 'Yes,' said Jack. He painted them,' she whispered; 'they will sing of the sea.' A delicious dreamy feeling stole over him. He remembered no more. At length he opened his eyes. He was lying on the rocks and the sea washed round him. He started up. The tide was rising fast, and the rock was almost surrounded. He scrambled back to shore, and it seemed to him that a rosy necklace he wore kept him safe. Jack loved his necklace, but everyone else declared he wore nothing round his neck. He knew better.

BEHAVIOUR IN THE STREET.

Is it not rather a disgrace that we should need an article on this subject in our first Number? But we have heard complaints from so many quarters that we thought it would be a good plan to call attention to it in these pages.

The High School, like every good institution, has its enemies, who are on the look out for bad things to say against it; we should therefore be most careful not to give them any occasion for finding fault with the School. Now one of the complaints made against the High School is, that it does not teach manners; that it makes girls rough and boyish. The behaviour of some of our girls in the street often justifies this complaint. Girls stand waiting outside the school, walk arm in arm stretching right across the pavement, rush to School in a most disorderly way. Many of them put on their

gloves in the street, and some wear no gloves going to or from School. The latter I have heard objected to more than anything, and it certainly gives our enemies reason to say that the High School makes girls rough and unfeminine.

We ought to remember that when going to and from School, we are still connected with it and have its honour to maintain, and we ought to be all the more careful to do so because we are then not under the eye of our mistresses, and our behaviour is trusted to our honour.

One other point I wish to call attention to; it is a wellknown rule that girls may not walk together without leave; the carrying out of this rule is entirely trusted to our honour, and I am afraid it is sometimes disregarded. I am sure we are all so devoted to our School, and so jealous of its reputation, that it is only necessary to call attention to this fault of bad behaviour in the street, for it to be at once corrected; and that we shall hear no more complaints of girls going gloveless to School, or of rough behaviour in the streets.

DUTY.

Sitting alone in the firelight
Late one winter's night,
My wandering fancy weaving
Visions dark and bright,
A wondrous dream of Duty
Came across my sight.

I seemed to walk in the cloister
Of a cathedral old,

Long and dim were its pathways
In mist and vapour rolled,
But, strangely enough, from the arches
Hung lamps of the brightest gold.

To the cold and hoary pillars

The ivy tenderly clung,

Over the crumbling arches

In great festoons it hung, While where the ivy was not

Green little fern-leaves sprung.

And in the cloister were gathered
Women and children and men,
Some careless, some anxious, all waiting,
While one was asking, "Oh! when
Will Duty pass on his journey

Through these dim ways again?'

It was Duty whom they awaited,
Duty firm in the strife,

To whose voice how many have listened
When their path with dangers was rife?
But for some men 'tis lost in the echoes
Which abound in the cloisters of life.
Of those who longed for his footsteps
Some were oppressed with care,
And some were haughty and fearless,
Ready the world to dare;

And some were burdened with sorrows
Almost too great to bear.

Then I heard the sound in the distance
Of a firm and manly stride,

The lamps grew suddenly brighter,

'He comes! he comes!' they cried.

While echo rang to echo

Through the arches far and wide.

I saw him then, he carried

A golden cross on high,

[blocks in formation]

Victor o'er all temptation,

High-minded, pure, and strong, He called on them to follow ;

But the way is rough and long,

And he is hard to follow,

And cannot pity wrong

Said one another said, 'I'll wait
Just for another day,
To-morrow morning once again

Duty will come this way.'
But it were best it seemed to me
To follow him that day.

On, on, we went down the cloisters,
The way was dark and cold,
There was Duty's voice to cheer us,
High above all it rolled:

'On, on, my comrades, we cannot give way!
On, on, be brave and bold!'

But hark! what burst of music

Is this which greets our ears,

As to a carved portal

Duty, our master, nears?

Ah! 'tis a glorious anthem

Which each of his followers hears.

Into the gorgeous building

We trusting followers throng,

The anthem rises higher,

The white-robed cherub choir

Drown our poor footsteps in their heavenly song; Reward, reward is plenteous where the fight is

long.

THE CHILDREN'S PAGE.

TODDLES AND PODDLES.

'Он, Poddles, Poddles, he's stuck in the pond, and he'll be drownded, and all the frogses and toadses 'll eat him; oh dear! oh dear!'

So cried a small, chubby child of five years old, puffing and panting as she ran up a steep hill towards her elder sister of six, who was sitting at the top making daisy-chains.

'Poddles, come quickly, your own Toddles is a drowning; oh, oh !'

'My Toddles,' cried the child; 'Oh you wicked, wicked Dot! how could you let him tumble in?' And with these words she got up, scattering the unfortunate daisies on the grass, and ran down the hill as fast as her short legs could carry her. In fact she ran so fast that she only just stopped herself from running into the pond at the bottom of the hill.

'Poddles, here I be,' cried a shrill and remarkably cheerful voice from the other side of the pond; The eelses is biting my legs drefful, but their tooths is so small that they can't hurt much. You needn't pull me out yet,' he continued as Poddles came up to him. There's a little snake down here,

and I'm trying to catch him.'

Toddles was standing happily in the dirty pond, fishing with one of his boots for the 'snake,' as he called it; and a very funny figure he looked. A fat rosy boy of six years old, about the same height as Poddles and very like her, dripping wet, and with his yellow hair covered with green duckweed-for he had tumbled in head foremost.

[ocr errors]

Toddles,' said Poddles, holding up her finger reprovingly, 'you're a sad boy; I thought you were drowned. I ran down the hill so fast that I couldn't cry, but I expex I shall begin now, if you don't come out this minute. Oh, no, I dont think I will though,' she went on, as Toddles fished about, not caring a bit whether she cried or not; 'I think I'll come in

« PreviousContinue »