"Here's pleasure without regretting,

And good without abuse,

The holiday and the bridal

Of beauty and of use.

"Here's a priest and there is a Quaker,

Do the cat and dog agree?

Have they burned the stocks for oven-wood?
Have they cut down the gallows-tree?

"Would the old folk know their children? Would they own the graceless town,

With never a ranter to worry

And never a witch to drown?"

Loud laughed the cobbler Keezar,
Laughed like a school-boy gay;

Tossing his arms above him,

The lapstone rolled away.

It rolled down the rugged hillside,
It spun like a wheel bewitched,

It plunged through the leaning willows,
And into the river pitched.

There, in the deep, dark water,

The magic stone lies still,

Under the leaning willows
In the shadow of the hill.

But oft the idle fisher

Sits on the shadowy bank,

And his dreams make marvellous pictures
Where the wizard's lapstone sank.

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And still, in the summer twilights,

When the river seems to run

Out from the inner glory,

Warm with the melted sun,

The weary mill-girl lingers

Beside the charméd stream

And the sky and the golden water
Shape and color her dream.

Fair wave the sunset gardens,

The rosy signals fly;

Her homestead beckons from the cloud,

And love goes sailing by!

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BARCLAY OF URY.

[AMONG the earliest converts to the doctrines of Friends in Scotland was Barclay of Ury, an old and distinguished soldier, who had fought under Gustavus Adolphus in Germany. As a Quaker, he became the object of persecution and abuse at the hands of the magistrates and the populace. None bore the indignities of the mob with greater patience and nobleness of soul than this once proud gentleman and soldier. One of his friends, on an occasion of uncommon rudeness, lamented that he should be treated so harshly in his old age who had been so honored before. "I find more satisfaction," said Barclay, "as well as honor, in being thus insulted for my religious principles, than when, a few years ago, it was usual for the magistrates, as I passed the city of Aberdeen, to meet me on the road and conduct me to public entertainment in their hall, and then escort Whittier.] me out again, to gain my favor."

Up the streets of Aberdeen,
By the kirk and college green,
Rode the Laird of Ury;
Close behind him, close beside,
Foul of mouth and evil-eyed,
Pressed the mob in fury.

Flouted him the drunken churl,
Jeered at him the serving-girl,

Prompt to please her master;
And the begging carlin, late
Fed and clothed at Ury's gate,

Cursed him as he passed her.

Yet, with calm and stately mien,
Up the streets of Aberdeen

Came he slowly riding;

And, to all he saw and heard
Answering not with bitter word,

Turning not for chiding.

Came a troop with broadswords swinging, Bits and bridles sharply ringing,

Loose and free and froward;

Quoth the foremost, "Ride him down!
Push him! prick him! through the town
Drive the Quaker coward!"

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Saw a comrade, battle tried,

Scarred and sunburned darkly;

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"Woe's the day!" he sadly said,

With a slowly shaking head,
And a look of pity;

"Ury's honest lord reviled,

Mock of knave and sport of child,

In his own good city!

"Speak the word, and, master mine,
As we charged on Tilly's line,

And his Walloon lancers,

35. It was at Lützen, near Leipzig, that Gustavus Adolphus fell in 1632. He was the hero of Schiller's Wallenstein, which Carlyle calls "the greatest tragedy of the eighteenth century."

6. Count de Tilly was a fierce soldier under Wallenstein, who

Smiting through their midst we'll teach
Civil look and decent speech

To these boyish prancers!

"Marvel not, mine ancient friend,
Like beginning, like the end,"
Quoth the Laird of Ury;
"Is the sinful servant more

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Than his gracious Lord who bore
Bonds and stripes in Jewry?

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"Give me joy that in His name
I can bear, with patient frame,

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All these vain ones offer;

While for them He suffereth long,
Shall I answer wrong with wrong,

Scoffing with the scoffer?

Happier I, with loss of all,

Hunted, outlawed, held in thrall,
With few friends to greet me,

Than when reeve and squire were seen,
Riding out from Aberdeen,

With bared heads to meet me.

"When each goodwife, o'er and o'er,
Blessed me as I passed her door;

And the snooded daughter,

Through her casement glancing down,
Smiled on him who bore renown

From red fields of slaughter.

in the Thirty Years' War laid siege to Magdeburg, and after two years took it and displayed great barbarity toward the inhabitants. The phrase, “like old Tilly," is still heard sometimes in New England of any piece of special ferocity.

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