he bow--aimed--shot--and the apple, struck to the core,
was carried away by the arrow.

The market-place of Altorf was filled by loud cheers. Walter flew to
embrace his father, who, overcome by his emotion, fell fainting to the
ground, thus exposing the second arrow to view. Gessler stood over him,
awaiting his recovery, which speedily taking place, Tell rose, and
turned away from the governor with horror. The latter, however,
scarcely yet believing his senses, thus addressed him: "Incomparable
archer, I will keep my promise; but what needed you with that second
arrow which I see in your girdle?"

Tell replied: "It is the custom of the bowmen of Uri to have always one
arrow in reserve."

"Nay, nay," said Gessler, "tell me thy real motive; and, whatever it may
have been, speak frankly, and thy life is spared."

"The second shaft," replied Tell, "was to pierce thy heart, tyrant, if I
had chanced to harm my son."

CHAMBER'S "Tracts."

A MIDSUMMER SONG

O, father's gone to market-town, he was up before the day,
And Jamie's after robins, and the man is making hay,
And whistling down the hollow goes the boy that minds the mill,
While mother from the kitchen door is calling with a will:
"Polly!--Polly!--The cows are in the corn!
O, where's Polly?"

From all the misty morning air there comes a summer sound--
A murmur as of waters from skies and trees and ground.
The birds they sing upon the wing, the pigeons bill and coo,
And over hill and hollow rings again the loud halloo:
"Polly!--Polly!--The cows are in the corn!
O, where's Polly?"

Above the trees the honey-bees swarm by with buzz and boom,
And in the field and garden a thousand blossoms bloom.
Within the farmer's meadow a brown-eyed daisy blows,
And down at the edge of the hollow a red and thorny rose.
But Polly!--Polly!--The cows are in the corn!
O, where's Polly?

How strange at such a time of day the mill should stop its clatter!
The farmer's wife is listening now and wonders what's the matter.
O, wild the birds are singing in the wood and on the hill,
While whistling up the hollow goes the boy that minds the mill.
But Polly!--Polly!--The cows are in the corn!
O, where's Polly?

RICHARD WATSON GILDER

THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW

On every side death stared us in the face; no human skill could avert it
any longer. We saw