Said she, "On Friday next there'll be Long prayers to Him-by all adored; So come, and then you'll quickly see How loud they groan without the Lord.'" "A prayer-meeting's a thing I hateTo see each creature looking toward ""Twould sate

They know not what," I said.

And shunt me quite 'without the Lord.'"

"You hate the meet-" "Not meet of hounds," I quickly cried; "be well assured." "You naughty man!" says she. "Oh, zounds! What! now again without the Lord!?

Our meet' is jolly-yours is sad;

I'm triste enough! now ain't I broad?" She laugh'd, then sigh'd, "Come, you're too bad! You wouldn't die 'without the Lord' ?" "Whose Lord ?" I cried in savage haste; "Faith! to my own I'm stoutly moor'd! Your sickly one's not to my taste.

Now say, am I' without the Lord' ?" She wept! "You are a radical!"

Crying's an art that always floor'd Strong natures! Quick fid-fadical,

I then became "without the Lord."
As soon rebell'd-"Now just you try

A month with mine! and if allured
You don't become, and cease to cry
In doleful tones without the Lord,'

We go two ways about one thing—”
Just then a sober jackdaw caw'd,

"By hook or crook, 'tish de shame shing,
You neisher are 'wishout de Lord !'"

"My Lord," I urged, "is not confined

To churches-brick'd, or built with board!

He dwells in those of spirit kind;

Now say, am I 'without the Lord'?

He dwells in those whose love-so rare-
Urges them on to seek reward

Not in Earth's gay and thoughtless Fair.
Now say, am I'without the Lord' ?

Who toil with heart, and soul, and brain,

Through livelong day or night, while stored
With midnight oil his spent lamps wane !
Now say, am 1' without the Lord' ?
Whose fitful sleep is full of dreams—

Swept down big rivers past the ford,
Or wreck'd, and past all hope he seems!
Now say, am I' without the Lord' ?
Mutt'ring short fragments of his book,
Vampyres would hover as he pour'd
His vengeance forth by word and look!
Now say, am I' without the Lord' ?
Dozes again-starts-look! he seizes
His pen, in bedgown to record

His midnight thoughts-the while it freezes !
Now say, am I'without the Lord'?

What's life to me without such Love!
With Universe awry-abroad!
I'd sooner graze in yonder grove

Than join your set with such a Lord!"
I paused-she shiver'd; "Oh, my friend !"`
She cried, "indeed I had ignored
Your deep, true nature! Let us bend
The knee hereafter to one Lord!"

Years after, when sweet Alice meets
A fella drinking from his gourd
Big draughts of Bass, she ne'er repeats,
"I fear you are without the Lord.""

'Who was the young lady?' asked Birdie, when the boys had gallopped off to call upon the late rector of Trememdon, laughing madly as they went along.

'Not knowing, cannot tell you, Birdie. We were perfect strangers. She was seriously desirous of doing me good, no doubt; but I have reason to think it ended in her own partial enlightenment,' replied Ralph.

'I thought I should never have stopped laughing during the recital,' said Birdie; and really, Ralph, Reggy deserves praise for keeping his countenance, for he was ready to die with laughter; and as to Alfred-poor child, I thought he was going into convulsions! What funny things you wrote about in those days!'

'I had a good laugh over their quaintness myself,' Ralph replied.

And the boys fully see and sympathise with the vein of sentiment animating and permeating the whole,' continued she.

'Boys! darling Birdie. Why, how old is Reggy?' asked Ralph.

'I haven't any idea at all. A good many hundreds of thousands of what were once called years, I should think,' replied Birdie.

'And yet they only seem to be boys-they never appear to grow any older-it's so nice!' said Ralph; 'and isn't it jolly, too, to be quite rid of'

Of what, dear Ralph ? asked Birdie innocently. 'Can't you guess?' drawled he.

'Not a bit,' she replied.

'Why, then, of-of everything that's disagreeable, including-'

'Including what, dear old boy? do say.'

And Ralph, thinking of those fellows who used to profess to do the things which were lovely and of good report, said,

'Oh, don't let's mention them up here! 'twould profane our sanctuary, unhallow our bliss; and it is jolly bliss, isn't it?' asked he spoonily.

'Tis rather,' returned she dreamily.

'It's so nice!' said Ralph in the same tone, turning to gaze

upon her.

With a kind of half assent Birdie drawled forth the words, 'Nse-very nice!' returning his gaze in the same fond manner. And, of course, I had to leave them to themselves. When I returned I overheard Ralph saying, 'I do not give away my kisses.'

Carlo was looking up at them and wagging his tail. Perhaps he was jealous, though I haven't the faintest idea of what.

เ

They're rather prone to hide,' continued Ralph.

'Mine are not when Ralph is- Birdie coloured and stopped. 'Mine never hide when Birdie is—' he stopped.

'When Ralph is-' she hesitated again.

'When Birdie is,' said he, regarding her with untold affection; what she always is-is everything to me! and love is everything—and love is-Birdie !'

THE END.