dice beguiling his flight by tender memories, as he escapes his pursuers.)

Fast he speeds across the housetops, but his bosom throbs with bliss,

For upon his rough lips linger traces of a baby's kiss!

(This line, tear-laden as it is, needs very delicate treatment to prevent the audience from understanding it in a painfully literal sense.)

(Now we come to the finale, with a highly effective contrast; don't be afraid of it.) Dreamily, on downy pillow, Baby Bella murmurs sweet;

66

(Smile here with a sleepy tenderness.)

Burglar, tum adain an' thee me; I will dive 'oo cakes to eat!"

(That's one side; now for the other.)

In his garret, worn and weary, Burglar Bill has sunk to rest,

Clasping tenderly a damson tartlet to his burly breast!

THE CATARACT OF LODORE.

ROBERT SOUTHEY.

"How does the water come down at Lodore?" My little boy asked me thus, once on a time; And, moreover, he tasked me to tell him in

rhyme.

Anon at the word, there first came one daugh

ter,

And then came another, to second and third The request of their brother, and to hear how

the water

Comes down to Lodore, with its rush and its

roar,

As many a time they had seen it before.

So I told them in rhyme, for of rhymes I had

store;

And 't was in my vocation for their recreation That so I should sing; because I was laureate to them and the king.

From its sources which well in the tarn on the Fell;

From its fountains in the mountains,

Its rills and its gills, through moss and through brake,

It runs and it creeps for a while, till it sleeps In its own little lake. And thence at depart

ing,

Awaking and starting, it runs through the reeds,

And away it proceeds, through meadow and glade,

In sun and in shade, and through the wood shelter,

Among crags in its flurry, helter-skelter,
Hurry-skurry. Here it comes sparkling,

And there it lies darkling; now smoking and frothing

Its tumult and wrath in, till in this rapid

race

On which it is bent, it reaches the place
Of its steep descent.

The cataract strong then plunges along
Striking and raging as if a war waging

Its caverns and rocks among; rising and leap

ing,

Sinking and creeping, swelling and sweeping, Showering and springing, flying and flinging, Writhing and ringing, eddying and whisking, Spouting and frisking, turning and twisting, Around and around with endless rebound; Smiting and fighting, a sight to delight in ; Confounding, astounding, dizzying and deafening

The ear with its sound.

Collecting, projecting, receding and speeding, And shocking and rocking, and darting and parting,

And threading and spreading, and whizzing and hissing,

And dripping and skipping, and hitting and splitting,

And shining and twining, and rattling and battling,

And shaking and quaking, and pouring and roaring,

And waving and raving, and tossing and crossing,

And flowing and going, and running and stunning,

And foaming and roaming, and dinning and spinning,

And dropping and hopping, and working and jerking,

And guggling and struggling, and heaving

and cleaving,

And moaning and groaning;

And glittering and flittering, and gathering

and feathering,