, to the line. Now, one thought was
uppermost--"What if he should breach?" I had seen them do so when in
flurry, leaping full twenty feet in the air. Then I prayed.

Quickly as all the preceding changes had passed, came perfect peace.
There I lay, still alive, but so weak that, although I could feel the
turns slipping off my arms, and knew that I should slide off the slope
of the whale's side into the sea if they did, I could make no effort to
secure myself. Everything then passed away from me, just as if I had
gone to sleep. I do not at all understand how I kept my position, nor
how long, but I awoke to the blessed sound of voices, and saw the second
mate's boat alongside.

FRANK T. BULLEN: "The Cruise of the Cachalot."

THE MAPLE

All hail to the broad-leaved Maple!
With her fair and changeful dress--
A type of our youthful country
In its pride and loveliness;
Whether in Spring or Summer,
Or in the dreary Fall,
'Mid Nature's forest children,
She's fairest of them all.

Down sunny slopes and valleys
Her graceful form is seen,
Her wide, umbrageous branches
The sunburnt reaper screen;
'Mid the dark-browed firs and cedars
Her livelier colours shine,
Like the dawn of the brighter future
On the settler's hut of pine.

She crowns the pleasant hilltop,
Whispers on breezy downs,
And casts refreshing shadows
O'er the streets of our busy towns;
She gladdens the aching eyeball,
Shelters the weary head,
And scatters her crimson glories
On the graves of the silent dead.

When winter's frosts are yielding
To the sun's returning sway,
And merry groups are speeding
To sugar-woods away;
The sweet and welling juices,
Which form their welcome spoil,
Tell of the teeming plenty,
Which here waits honest toil.

When sweet-toned Spring, soft-breathing,
Breaks Nature's icy sleep,
And the forest boughs are swaying
Like the green waves of the deep;
In her fair and budding beauty,
A fitting emblem, she,
Of this our land of promise,
Of hope, of liberty.

And when her leaves, all crimson,
Droop silently and fall,
Like drops of life-blood welling
From a warrior brave and tall;
They tell how fast and freely
Would her children's blood be shed,
Ere the soil of our faith and freedom