*

They from their fields can see the countenance
Of your fierce war, may ken the glittering lance,
And hear you shouting forth your brave intent."

Still failing to awake a responsive echo in the heart that once beat in
poetic unison with his own, he turned to Mrs. Du Plessis, and, alluding
to the departed colonel, recited in her native tongue:--

"Honor al Caudillo,
Honor al primero,
Que el patriota acero
Oso fulminar.
La Patria afligida
Oyo' sus acentos,
Y vio' sus tormentos,
En gozo tornar."

"That is very pretty, Mr. Wilkinson, and I thank you much for recalling
the pleasant memories of my early speech. Is there not an English
translation of these words?"

"There is, Mrs. Du Plessis, by Sir John Bowring, It is:--

Hail, hail to the Chieftain,
All honour to him
Who first in the gleam
Of that light bared the sword!
The drooping land heard him,
Forgetting her fears;
And smiled through her tears,
As she hung on his word."

The dominie had thought only to give expression to the poetic fervour
called forth by the circumstances, but accomplished a good deal more,
the establishment of a common ground between himself and the nearest
relative of a very charming and cultivated young lady. The said young
lady came up to join in the conversation, and request Mr. Wilkinson to
repeat all that he knew of the battle hymn. The lawyer was secretly of
the opinion that his friend was making an ass of himself, and that, if
he were to try that poetry quoting business on Miss Carmichael, he would
soon discover that such was the case. Yet, if the Du Plessis liked that
sort of thing, he had no right to interfere. He remembered that he had
once been just such an ass himself, and wondered how he could have so
far strayed from the path of common sense. It was worse than Tryphosa
and Timotheus sitting down to sing with a hymn-book between them.

"What are you doing out in the garden all by yourself, Eugene?" asked a
small voice. He looked down and saw Marjorie fingering the barrel of his
rifle. "Don't you know," she continued, "that all the people have gone
in to dinner?"

"Did the gong sound, Marjorie?"

"To be sure it did. Tell me, what were you thinking about not to hear
it?"

"I was thinking about a dear little girl called Marjorie," answered the
prevaricating lawyer, picking the child up and bestowing a hearty salu