It was like the gleam of a fairy-dream, and I felt like earth's first Man,

In an Eden bower with the yellow flower of a cactus for a fan; Oranges, peaches, grapes, and figs, clustered, ripened, and fell, And the cedar scent was pleasant, blent with the soothing 'cacia smell.

The squirrels red ran overhead, and I saw the lizards creep, And the woodpecker bright with the chest so white tapt like a sound in sleep;

I lay and dozed with eyes half closed, and felt like a three-year child,

And, a plantain blade on his brow for a shade, even Phil Blood looked mild.

Well, back jest then came our hunting men, with the Panther at their head,

Full of his fun was every one, and the Panther's eyes were red, And he skipt about with grin and shout, for he'd had a drop that day,

And he twisted and twirled, and squealed and skirled, in the foolish Jnjin way.

To the waist all bare Phil Blood lay there, with only his knife in his belt,

And I saw his bloodshot eye-balls flare, and I knew how fierce he felt,

When the Injin dances with grinning glances around him as he lies,

With his painted skin and his monkey grin,-and 'eers into

his eyes.

Then before I knew what I should do Phil Blood was on his feet,

And the Injin could trace the hate in his face, and his heart began to beat,

And "Get out o' the way," he heard them say, " for he means to hev your life!"

But before he could fly at the warning cry, he saw the flash of the knife.

"Run, Panther, run!" cried every one, and the Panther took the track,

With a wicked glare, like a wounded bear, Phil Blood sprang at his back.

Up the side so steep of the canyon deep the poor old crit

ter sped,

And after him ran the devil's limb, till they faded overhead.

Now, the spot of ground where our luck was found was a queerish place, you'll mark,

Jest under the jags of the mountain crags and the precipices dark,

And the water drove from a fall above, and roared both day and night,

And those that waded beneath were shaded by crags to left and right.

Far up on high, close to the sky, the two crags leant together, Leaving a gap, like an open trap, with a gleam of golden weather,

And now and then when at work the men looked up they caught the bounds

Of the deer that leap from steep to steep, and they seemed the size o' hounds.

A pathway led from the beck's dark bed up to the crags on high,

And up that path the Injin fled, fast as a man could fly. Some shots were fired, for I desired to keep the white cuss back;

But I missed my man, and away he ran on the flying Injin's track.

Now all below is thick, you know, with 'cacia, alder, and pine, And the bright shrubs deck the side of the beck, and the lien-flowers so fine,

For the forest creeps all under the steeps, and feathers the feet of the crags

With boughs so thick that your path you pick, like a steamer among the snags.

But right above you, the crags, Lord love you! are bare as this here hand,

And your eyes you wink at the bright blue chink, as looking "p you stand.

If a man should pop in that trap at the top, he'd never rest hand or leg,

Till neck and crop to the bottom he'd drop-and smash on the stones like an egg!

Now, the breadth of the trap, though it seemed so small from the place below, d'ye see,

Was what a deer could easily clear, but a man-well, not

for me!

And it happened, yes! the path, I guess, led straight to that

there place,

And if one of the two didn't leap it, whew! they must meet there face to face.

"Come back, you cuss! come back to us! and let the critter be!" I screamed out loud, while the men in a crowd stood gazing at them and me;

But up they went, and my shots were spent, and I shook as they disappeared,

One minute more, and we gave a roar, for the Injin had leapt, and cleared!

A leap for a deer, not a man, to clear,-and the bloodiest grave below!

But the critter was smart and mad with fear, and he went like a bolt from a bow.

Close after him came the devil's limb, with his eyes as wild as death,

But when he came to the gulch's brim, I reckon he paused for breath.

For breath at the brink! but-a white man shrink, when a red had passed so neat?

I knew Phil Blood too well to think he'd turn his back dead beat!

He takes one run, leaps up in the sun, and bounds from the slippery ledge,

And he clears the hole, but-God help his soul! just touches the other edge!

One scrambling fall, one shriek, one call, from the men that stand and stare,

Black in the blue where the sky looks through, he staggers, dwarfed up there;

The edge he touches, then sinks, and clutches the rock-my eyes grow dim

I turn away-what's that they say?-he's a-hanging on to the brim?

... On the very brink of the fatal chink a wild thin shrub

there grew,

And to that he clung, and in silence swung betwixt us and

the blue,

And as soon as a man could run I ran the way I'd seen them flee,

And I came mad-eyed to the chasm's side and-what do you think I see?

All up? Not quite. Still hanging? Right! But he'd torn away the shrub;

With lolling tongue he clutched and swung-to what? ay, that's the rub!

I saw him glare and dangle in air,--for the empty hole, you know,

Helped by a pair of hands up there!-The Injin's? Yes, that's so!

Now, boys, look here! for many a year I've roughed in this here land

And many a sight both day and night I've seen that I think grand;

Over the whole wide world I've been, and I know both things and men,

But the biggest sight I've ever seen was the sight I saw just

then.

I held my breath-so nigh to death the cuss swung hand and limb,

And it seemed to me that down he'd flee, with the Panther after him;

But the Injin at length puts out his strength, and another minute passed,

-And safe and sound to the solid ground he drew Phil Blood at last.

Saved? True for you! By an Injin too!-and the man he meant to kill!

There all alone, on the brink of stone, I see them standing still;

Phil Blood gone white, with the struggle and fright, like a great mad bull at bay,

And the Injin meanwhile, with a half-skeered smile, ready to spring away.

What did Phil do? Well, I watched the two, and I saw Phil Blood turn back,

Then he leant to the brink and took a blink into the chasm black,

Then, stooping low for a moment or so, he drew his bowie bright,

And he chucked it down the gulf with a frown, and whistle, and lounged from sight.

Hands in his pockets, eyes downcast, silent, thoughtful, and grim,

While the Panther, grinning as he passed, still kept his eyes on him;

Phil Blood strolled slow to his mates below, down by a mountain track,

With his lips set tight and his face all white, and the Panther at his back.

I reckon they stared when the two appeared! but never a word Phil spoke,

Some of them laughed and others jeered,—but he let them have their joke;

He seemed amazed, like a man gone dazed, the sun in his eyes too bright,

And, in spite of their cheek, for many a week, he never offered to fight.

And after that day he changed his play, and kept a civiller tongue,

And whenever an Injin came that way, his contrairy head he hung;

But whenever he heard the lying word, "It's a LIE!" Phil

Blood would groan;

"A Snake is a Snake, make no mistake! but an Injin's flesh and

bone!"

SOME TIME.

Some time, when all life's lessons have been learned,
And suns and stars forevermore have set,

The things which our weak judgments here have spurned,
The things o'er which we grieved with lashes wet,
Will flash before us amid life's dark night,

As stars shine most in deeper tints of blue;
And we shall see how all God's plans were right,
And what most seemed reproof was love most true.
And we shall see how, while we frown and sigh,
God's plans go on as best for you and me-
How, when we called, He heeded not our cry,
Because His wisdom to the end could see;
And e'en as prudent parents disallow

Too much of sweet to craving babyhood,
So God, perhaps, is keeping from us now

Life's sweetest things, because it seemeth good. And you shall shortly know that lengthened breath Is not the sweetest gift God sends His friend, And that sometimes the sable pall of death

Conceals the fairest boon His love can send; If we could push ajar the gates of life,

And stand within, and all God's working see, We could interpret all this doubt and strife,

And for each mystery find there a key.

But not to-day. Then be content, poor heart!

God's plans, like lilies pure and white, unfold;
We must not tear the close-shut leaves apart―
Time will reveal the calyxes of gold;

And, if, through patient toil, we reach the land
Where tired feet, with sandals loosed, may rest,
Where we shall clearly know and understand,

I think that we shall say, "God knew the best."

THE KING OF DENMARK'S RIDE.-CAROLINE NORTON.

Word was brought to the Danish king

(Hurry!)

That the love of his heart lay suffering,

And pined for the comfort his voice would bring.

(Oh, ride as though you were flying!)

Better he loves each golden curl

On the brow of that Scandinavian girl,

Than his rich crown jewels of ruby and peari;

And his rose of the isles is dying!