raised
Along the stony floor;
Silent as death, severe as fate,
She glided through the chapel gate,
And none beheld her more.

The alabaster couch was gone;
The tomb was void and bare;
For the last time, with hasty rite,
Even 'mid the terror of the night,
They laid the abbess there.

'Tis said the abbess rests not well
In that sepulchral pile;
But yearly, when the night comes round
As dies of "one" the bell's deep sound
She flits along the aisle.

But whither passed the virgin saint?
To slumber far away,
Destined by Mary to endure,
Unaltered in her semblance pure,
Until the judgment day!

DAVID SHAW, HERO.

BY JAMES BUCKHAM.

The saviour, and not the slayer, he is the braver man.
So far my text--but the story? Thus, then, it runs; from Spokane
Rolled out the overland mail train, late by an hour. In the cab
David Shaw, at your service, dressed in his blouse of drab.
Grimed by the smoke and the cinders. "Feed her well, Jim," he said;
(Jim was his fireman.) "_Make up time!_" On and on they sped;

Dust from the wheels up-flying; smoke rolling out behind;
The long train thundering, swaying; the roar of the cloven wind;
Shaw, with his hand on the lever, looking out straight ahead.
How she did rock, old Six-forty! How like a storm they sped.

Leavenworth--thirty minutes gained in the thrilling race.
Now for the hills--keener look-out, or a letting down of the pace.
Hardly a pound of the steam less! David Shaw straightened back,
Hand like steel on the lever, face like flint to the track.

God!--look there! Down the mountain, right ahead of the train,
Acres of sand and forest sliding down to the plain!
What to do? Why, jump, Dave! Take the chance, while you can.
The train is doomed--save your own life! Think of the children, man!

Well, what did he, this hero, face to face with grim death?
Grasped the throttle--reversed it--shrieked "_Down brakes!_" in a
breath.
Stood to his post, without flinching, clear-headed, open-eyed,
Till the train stood still with a shudder, and he--went down with the
slide!

Saved?--yes, saved! Ninety people snatched from an awful grave.
One life under the sand, there. All that he had, he gave,
Man to the last inch! Hero?--