And now o'er Clemgaum's Hill appear,
Their white plumes on the breezes dancing,
A gallant troop, with shield and spear,
From Offaley with aid advancing.
Quick to Kildare his soldiers ride,
And raise him up from Memnon's side;
Unhurt he stands, and to his breast,
The Lady Anna Darcy's pressed.

"Kinsmen and friends," exclaimed Kildare,
"Behold my bride, the fair and fearless,
Who broke my chain, and brought me here,
In truth, in love, and beauty, peerless.
Here, at the bridge of Tenachelle,
Amid the friends I love so well,
I swear that until life depart,
She'll rule my home, my soul, my heart!"

MICHAEL FLYNN.

BY WILLIAM THOMSON.

Said Michael Flynn, the lab'ring man,
"Yis, sorr, although oi'm poor,
Sooner than live on charity
I'd beg from door to door."

A NIGHT WITH A STORK.

BY WILLIAM G. WILCOX.

Four individuals--namely, my wife, my infant son, my
maid-of-all-work, and myself, occupy one of a row of very small
houses in the suburbs of London. I am a thoroughly domesticated
man, and notwithstanding that my occupation necessitates absence
from my dwelling between the hours of 9 A.M. and 5 P.M., my heart
is usually at home with my diminutive household. My wife and I love
regularity and quiet above all things; and although, since the
arrival of my son and heir, we have not enjoyed that perfect peace
which was ours during the first years of our married life, yet his
powerful little lungs, I am bound to say, have failed to make ours a
noisy house.

Up to the time when the incident occurred which I am going to tell
you about our regularity had remained undisturbed, and we got up,
went to bed, dined, breakfasted, and took tea at the same time, day
after day. Well, as I say, we had been going on in this clockwork
fashion for a considerable time, when the other morning the postman
brought a letter to our door, and on looking at the direction, I
found that it came from an old, rich, and very eccentric uncle of
mine, with whom--hem! for certain reasons, we wished to remain on the
best of terms.

"What can Uncle Martin have to write about?" was our simultaneous
exclamation. "T