wreaths of flowers, whose perfume filled the streets. So the people begged for the celestial flowers.

"You have many more," they said, "where you come from. Give a few to

us."

But the gods answered, "These are only for the good."

And one of the gods held out a wreath and sang,

"He that from thievish act refrains,
His tongue from lying word restrains,
And reaching dizzy heights of fame

Still keeps his head,-this flower may claim."

And one of the crowd, who was a good man outwardly but bad at heart, thought within himself, "I may claim that: nobody will know the difference." So he spoke up and said, "I am endued with these qualities.' And the wreath was put upon his head.

And another god held out a wreath and sang,

"He that should honest wealth pursue
And riches gained by fraud eschew,
In pleasure gross excess would shun,
This heavenly flower has duly won.'

"That describes me," said the false man, and the second wreath was placed upon his head.

Then, with boldness increased by his success, he approached the third god, and asked that the third wreath should encircle his brow.

And the god said,

"He who choicest food can scorn,
Who from his task is never torn,

Who keeps his faith unchanged for aye,
To him this flower I'll not deny."

And the false man said: "I have ever lived on the simplest fare. I have been ever steadfast of purpose, and loyal in my faith. Therefore give me the wreath.'

And the third wreath was bestowed upon him.

And still a fourth god held out a wreath and sang,

"He that good man will ne'er attack
When present, nor behind his back,

And all he says fulfills in deed,

This flower may claim as his due meed."

"I claim it, then," cried the deceiver.

And the fourth wreath was added to the others.

So the festival proceeded, to the satisfaction of the gods, and back they went into the sky. But that night the wicked Brahmin's head began to ache. He felt as though he were being beaten with a rod of iron. At last, so fierce was the pain that he confessed his falsehood. "I am not such a person as

I claimed to be," he said. he said. But his friends could not tear the flowers from his head. They were fastened as with bands of steel.

Finally, when they had cried to the gods and got no answer, they arranged another festival. And, sure enough, the gods came down to see it. And the man bowed before the gods, and confessed his wickedness, crying, "My lords, spare my life." So the gods rebuked him before all the people, and taking the four wreaths went back to their home beyond the sky.

Retold from "The Jātāka."

"SAY, WHAT IS HONOR?"

SAY, what is Honor? - 'Tis the finest sense Of justice which the human mind can frame, Intent each lurking frailty to disclaim,

And guard the way of life from all offense
Suffered or done. When lawless violence
Invades a Realm, so pressed that in the scale
Of perilous war her weightiest armies fail,
Honor is hopeful elevation, whence
Glory, and triumph. Yet with politic skill
Endangered States may yield to terms
unjust;

Stoop their proud heads, but not unto the dust

A Foe's most favorite purpose to fulfill:
Happy occasions oft by self-mistrust
Are forfeited; but infamy doth kill.

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

THE CARRONADE

ONE of the carronades of the battery, a twenty-four pounder, had broken loose.

This is the most dangerous accident that can possibly take place on shipboard. Nothing more terrible can happen to a sloop of war in open sea and under full sail.

A cannon that breaks its moorings suddenly becomes some strange, supernatural

monster.

beast. It is a machine transformed into a That short mass on wheels moves like a billiard-ball, rolls with the rolling of the ship, plunges with the pitching, goes, comes, stops, seems to meditate, starts on its course again, shoots like an arrow, from one end of the vessel to the other, whirls around, slips away, dodges, rears, bangs, crashes, kills, exterminates. It is a battering-ram capriciously assaulting a wall. Add to this the fact that the ram is of metal, the wall of wood.

It is matter set free; one might say, this eternal slave was avenging itself; it seems as if the total depravity concealed in what we call inanimate things had escaped, and burst forth all of a sudden; it appears to lose patience, and to take a strange mysterious revenge; nothing more relentless than this wrath of the inanimate. This enraged lump leaps like a panther, it has the clumsiness of an elephant, the nimbleness of a mouse, the obstinacy of an ax, the uncertainty of the billows, the zigzag of the lightning, the deafness of the grave. It weighs ten thousand pounds, and it rebounds like