nd your soul,
That so brims with Paradise,
Stirs what wonders roll
Unsuspected in myself,
Who had thought
Life half death, till childhood's elf--
Sign of angels men shall be--
Came and taught
A youth eterne within futurity.

THE CAUGHNAWAGA BEADWORK SELLER.

Kanawaki--"By the Rapid,"--
Low the sunset midst thee lies;
And from the wild Reservation
Evening's breeze begins to rise.
Faint the Konoronkwa chorus
Drifts across the current strong;
Spirit-like the parish steeple
Stands thy ancient walls among.

Kanawaki--"By the Rapid,"--
How the sun amidst thee burns!
Village of the Praying Nation,
Thy dark child to thee returns.
All day through the pale-face city,
Silent, selling beaded wares,
I have wandered with my basket,
Lone, excepting for their stares!

They are white men; we are Indians;
What a gulf their stares proclaim!
They are mounting; we are dying;
All our heritage they claim.
We are dying, dwindling, dying,
Strait and smaller grows our bound;
They are mounting up to heaven
And are pressing all around.

_Thou_ art ours,--little remnant,
Ours through countless thousand years--
Part of the old Indian world,
Thy breath from far the Indian cheers.
Back to thee, O Kanawaki!
Let the rapids dash between
Indian homes and white men's manners--
Kanawaki and Lachine!

O my dear!--O Knife-and-Arrows!
Thou art bronzed, thy limbs are lithe;
How I laugh as through the crosse-game,
Slipst thou like red elder withe.
Thou art none of these pale-faces!
When with thee I'll happy feel,
For thou art the Mohawk warrior
From thy scalp-lock to thy heel.

Sweet the Konoronkwa chorus
Floats across the current strong;
Clear behold the parish steeple
Rise the ancient walls among.
Speed us deftly, noiseless paddle:
In my shawl my bosom burns!
Kanawaki--"By the Rapid,"--
Thine own child to thee returns.

MONTREAL.

Reign on, majestic Ville Marie!
Spread wide thine ample robes of state;
The heralds cry that thou art great,
And proud are thy young sons of thee.
Mistress of half a continent,
Thou risest from thy girlhood's rest;
We see thee conscious heave thy breast
And feel thy rank and thy descent.

Sprung of the saint and chevalier!
And with the Scarlet Tunic wed!
Mount Royal's crown upon thy head,
And--past thy footstool--broad and clear
St. Lawrence sweeping to the sea;
Reign on, majestic Ville Marie!

AL