n fire.

Sublime as the sight was, all these details impressed themselves on the
man in an instant, and he turned his face directly up toward the woman.

"Darling, your face looks blistered," said Adam.

"It feels blistered," replied Eva. "I'll put some water on it, now that
you've caught your breath again. I thought I could not get you out from
those burning trees."

"But you dragged me down the hill?"

"Yes, and then dipped you in the lake and pushed off with you in the
boat. I don't know how I did it. But here we are together."

Adam bathed her face carefully himself, and held her tight in his arms.
The unspeakable love of which he had dreamed, and the heat of the
burning island, seemed welding them together without other sign than the
fact.

Not a word was sighed out for forgiveness on either side. They held each
other and floated back into the lake. Adam took an oar and occasionally
paddled, without wholly releasing his hold of Eva.

"Don't you remember our fish's nest?" she whispered beside his neck. "I
wonder if the slim little silver thing is swimming around over the
gravel hollow, frightened by all this glare? I hope those overhanging
bushes won't catch fire and drop coals on her; for she's a silly
thing,--she might not want to dart out in deep water and lose her
unhatched family."

Adam smiled into his wife's eyes. He was quite singed, but did not know
it.

"Ay, burn," he spoke out exultantly, apostrophizing the island. "Burn up
our first home and all. It's worth it. We're the other side o' the world
of fire now. We've passed through it, and are afloat on the sea of
glass."

M. H. CATHERWOOD.

PROBATION.

Full slow to part with her best gifts is Fate:
The choicest fruitage comes not with the spring,
But still for summer's mellowing touch must wait,
For storms and tears that seasoned excellence bring;
And Love doth fix his joyfullest estate
In hearts that have been hushed 'neath Sorrow's brooding wing.
Youth sues to Fame: she coldly answers, "Toil!"
He sighs for Nature's treasures: with reserve
Responds the goddess, "Woo them from the soil."
Then fervently he cries, "Thee will I serve,--
Thee only, blissful Love." With proud recoil
The heavenly boy replies, "To serve me well--deserve."

FLORENCE EARLE COATES.

THE PIONEERS OF THE SOUTHWEST.

TWO PAPERS. II.

The route of Robertson lay over the great Indian war-path, which led, in
a southwesterly d