ter to him, and listened to his remarks with becoming deference.

The little room in the station was packed with people, idlers and others, and they could with difficulty bring him in.

"No," said one of the ladies who were trying to restore the girl. "It may be too great a shock for her. She must not see him yet."

"Make way there, gentlemen. The superintendent of the road is here."

The crowd moved slightly, and the superintendent advanced into the room. He took off his hat and spoke quietly to the people near, and then he stooped over the unconscious girl and softly kissed her like as a father.

"She saved all our lives and I fear she thinks she paid dearly for them."

is

Suddenly she opened her eyes and sat up bewildered. "Where is he? Is he much hurt? Oh! Perhaps he

"Let me alone, I tell you," cried a big, bold voice in the crowd, "I must go to her."

He escaped from those who would detain him and in a moment was beside her.

Some of the people laughed in foolish joy, others cried. The more delicate and sensible were silent, for the meeting was not for words or description.

After a slight pause the superintendent said to the young man:

"I congratulate you, sir. You were on the car?” "Yes, sir. I was on the car and I saved myself at the last moment by jumping off. I landed on a pile of fine coal and got a rough tumble--and that was all. The car is a heap of splinters."

Then the superintendent called the young man nearer to him and spoke to him privately, and presently they both shook hands as if greatly pleased over something. The young man sat down beside the girl and whispered in her ear.

"I've got the place, Lydia. We're all right now." Then the bells rang, and the people began to disperse toward their trains. As they departed, a small creature— probably a stockholder-objected to the proceedings and remarked to the superintendent that "it was not best to give fat offices to brakemen for doing nothing."

"Precisely," said the superintendent. "But the woman did something, and if you wish to know the full measure of her splendid deed, go put yourself in her place."

ELLEN McJONES ABERDEEN.-W. S. GILBERT.

Macphairson Clonglocketty Angus McClan

Was the son of an elderly laboring man;

You've guessed him a Scotchman, shrewd reader, at sight, And p'r'aps altogether, shrewd reader, you're right.

From the bonnie blue Forth to the beastly Deeside,

Round by Dingwell and Wrath to the mouth of the Clyde, There wasn't a child or a woman or man

Who could pipe with Clonglocketty Angus McClan.

No other could wake such detestable groans,

With reed and with chaunter, with bag and with drones:

All day and all night he delighted the chiels

With sniggering pibrochs and jiggety reels.

He'd clamber a mountain and squat on the ground,
And the neighboring maidens would gather around
To list to his pipes and to gaze in his een,
Especially Ellen McJones Aberdeen.

All loved their McClan, save a Sassenach brute,
Who came to the Highlands to fish and to shoot;
He dressed himself up in a Highlander way;
Though his name it was Pattison Corby Torbay.
Torbay had incurred a good deal of expense
To make him a Scotchman in every sense;
But this is a matter, you'll readily own,
That isn't a question of tailors alone.

A Sassenach chief may be bonily built,

He may purchase a sporran, a bonnet, and kilt;

Stick a skeän in his hose-wear an acre of stripes-
But he cannot assume an affection for pipes.

Clonglocketty's pipings all night and all day
Quite frenzied poor Pattison Corby Torbay;
The girls were amused at his singular spleen,
Especially Ellen McJones Aberdeen.

"Macphairson Clonglocketty Angus, my lad,
With pibrochs and reels you are driving me mad.
If you really must play on that horrid affair,
My goodness, play something resembling an air."
Boiled over the blood of Macphairson McClan-
The Clan of Clonglocketty rose as one man;
For all were enraged at the insult, I ween,
Especially Ellen McJones Aberdeen.

"Let's show," said McClan, "to this Sassenach loon
That the bagpipes can play him a regular tune.
Let's see," said McClan, as he thoughtfully sat,
"In my Cottage' is easy-I'll practise at that."

He blew at his “Cottage,” and he blew with a will,
For a year, seven months, and a fortnight until
(You'll hardly believe it) McClan, I declare,
Elicited something resembling an air.

It was wild-it was fitful-as wild as the breeze;
It wandered about into several keys.

It was jerky, spasmodic and harsh, I'm aware;
But still it distinctly suggested an air.

The Sassenach screamed, and the Sassenach danced;
He shrieked in his agony, bellowed and pranced.
And the maidens who gathered rejoiced at the scene,
Especially Ellen McJones Aberdeen.

"Hech gather, hech gather, hech gather around;
And fill a' ye lugs wi' the exquisite sound.
An air fra' the bagpipes-beat that if you can!
Hurrah for Clonglocketty Angus McClan!"

The fame of his piping spread over the land:
Respectable widows proposed for his band,
And maidens came flocking to sit on the green,
Especially Ellen McJones Aberdeen.

One morning the fidgety Sassenach swore
He'd stand it no longer-he drew his claymore,
And (this was, I think, in extremely bad taste)
Divided Clonglocketty close to the waist.

Oh! loud were the wailings for Angus McClan,
Oh! deep was the grief for that excellent man---
The maids stood aghast at the horrible scene,
Especially Ellen McJones Aberdeen.

It sorrowed poor Pattison Corby Torbay
To find them "take on" in this serious way,
He pitied the poor little fluttering birds,

And solaced their souls with the following words:

"Oh, maidens," said Pattison, touching his hat,
"Don't blubber, my dears, for a fellow like that;
Observe, I'm a very superior man,

A much better fellow than Angus McClan."

They smiled when he winked and addressed them as "dears,”
And they all of them vowed, as they dried up their tears,
A pleasanter gentleman never was seen-

Especially Ellen McJones Aberdeen.

I WONDER.

If I this night, at set of sun,

Should find my race was nearly run,

Would I have earned the glad "Well done?"-
I wonder.

Would I look back at dear ones here?

Would I go onward without fear?

Would there be time for any tear?-
I wonder.

Would it then be so strangely sweet,
Where loved ones wait their own to greet,
That life would pass with winged feet?—
I wonder.

Would all the countless trials sore
Perplex me never, never more?
Would heartaches, failures, all be o'er?-
I wonder.

He says, "Unto the weary rest."

Unto the friendless, home so blest;

And so to Him I leave the rest

Nor wonder.

TOMMY'S FIRST LOVE.-C. S. CALVERLY. (AS RECITED BY HENRY IRVING.)

Some vast amount of years ago,

Ere all my youth had vanished from me, A boy it was my lot to know,

Whom his familiar friends called Tommy.

I love to gaze upon a child;

A young bud bursting into blossom; Artless, as Eve yet unbeguiled,

And agile as a young opossum:

And such was he,-a calm-browed lad,
Yet mad, at moments, as a hatter:
(Why hatters as a race are mad

I never knew, nor does it matter.)

He was what nurses call a "limb;"

One of those small misguided creatures,
Who, though their intellects are dim,
Are one too many for their teachers:

And, if you asked of him to say

What twice ten was, or three times seven,

He'd glance (in quite a placid way)

From heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;

And smile, and look politely round,
To catch a casual suggestion;
But make no effort to propound
Any solution of the question.

And so not much esteemed was he
Of the authorities: and therefore
He fraternized by chance with me,
Needing a somebody to care for.

And three fair summers did we twain
Live (as they say) and love together;
And bore by turns the wholesome cane
Till our young skins became as leather:

And carved our names on every desk,

And tore our clothes, and inked our collars;

And looked unique and picturesque,

But not, it may be, model scholars.