ll demands had been conceded, otherwise the bombardment would
re-commence.

Three hours passed, slow hours indeed to those waiting at the harbour's
mouth. Then across the water came the boom of three guns, the knell of
the old reign of tyranny and cruelty, the message of joy and release to
many an anxious heart. The prison doors were opened; the English Consul
and his fellow-prisoners, half expecting to be led to execution, found
themselves restored to those they loved. Hundreds of Christian slaves,
many of them too dazed and bewildered by the sudden change to realise
their freedom, thronged the rescuing ships, gazing back upon the
shattered fortifications which their hands had helped to build. And
fervent indeed must have been the thanksgivings which, by Lord Exmouth's
order, went up from the decks of the English ships, for the success of
the 'conflict between his Majesty's fleet, and the enemies of mankind.'

MARY H. DEBENHAM.

THE MYSTERIOUS VISITOR.

Who's that slamming the garden door?
I have heard it three times three!
And though to the window I run to look,
He's hiding away from me.
The tree-tops laugh in the windy sky,
And the maker-of-mischief, hovering nigh,
Is hiding away from me.

Who's that rattling the window-pane?
I have heard it three times three!
Yet every time I glance that way
There's nothing at all to see.
But the leaf of a rose bush blown about,
While the culprit true, with a noisy shout,
Is hiding away from me.

Who's that whistling and calling loud
Over my chimney high?
'Tis the maker-of-mischief I cannot see
Abroad in the blue, blue sky.
Hark! he is shaking the window-pane!
Now he is up in the clouds again,
Sweeping the blue, blue sky.

Oh, slam as you will my garden door,
And whistle your blithest lay;
I love your company, though unseen,
Dear maker-of-mischief gay.
I love to see your clouds go by,
And the tree-tops waving against the sky,
Oh, wind of the wild March day!

HOW TO OBTAIN FOOD.

When Napoleon the First was a student at the Military College of
Brienne, the examiners asked him the following question:--

'Supposing you were in a besieged town, on the verge of starvation, how
would you obtain food?'

'From the enemy!' was the prompt answer of the future Emperor.

THE PICTURE-CLEANERS.

'Oh, dear! I do wish Mother and Father were back again. It is horrid to