you will take a good drink."

"I'm immensely grateful, Rao Sahib. I believe you've saved my life.
How did Hitchcock----"

"Oho! His hair was upon end. He rode to me in the middle of the night and
woke me up in the arms of Morphus. I was most truly concerned, Finlinson,
so I came too. My head-priest he is very angry just now. We will go quick,
Mister Hitchcock. I am due to attend at twelve-forty-five in the state
temple, where we sanctify some new idol. If not so I would have asked you
to spend the day with me. They are dam-bore, these religious ceremonies,
Finlinson, eh?"

Peroo, well known to the crew, had possessed himself of the wheel, and
was taking the launch craftily up-stream. But while he steered he was,
in his mind, handling two feet of partially untwisted wire-rope; and
the back upon which he beat was the back of his _guru_.

IV

THE MIRACLES

I sent a message to my dear--
A thousand leagues and more to her--
The dumb sea-levels thrilled to hear,
And lost Atlantis bore to her.

Behind my message hard I came,
And nigh had found a grave for me;
But that I launched of steel and flame
Did war against the wave for me.

Uprose the deep, by gale on gale,
To bid me change my mind again--
He broke his teeth along my rail,
And, roaring, swung behind again.

I stayed the sun at noon to tell
My way across the waste of it;
I read the storm before it fell
And made the better haste of it.

Afar, I hailed the land at night--
The towers I built had heard of me--
And, ere my rocket reached its height,
Had flashed my Love the word of me.

Earth gave her chosen men of strength
(They lived and strove and died for me)
To drive my road a nation's length,
And toss the miles aside for me.

I snatched their toil to serve my needs--
Too slow their fleetest flew for me--
I tired twenty smoking steeds,
And bade them bait a new for me.

I sent the lightnings forth to see
Where hour by hour she waited me.
Among ten million one was she,
And surely all men hated me!

Dawn ran to meet us at my goal--
Ah, day no tongue shall tell again!--
And little folk of little soul
Rose up to buy and sell again!

V

OUR LADY OF THE SNOWS

1897

(_Canadian Preferential Tariff, 1897_)

A Nation spoke to a Nation.
A Qu