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Up sprang the priest; away he rode, but ere a mile
Right in his path, he saw the flash of bayonets in the sun.
He turned his horse's head, and sped along the
But oh! there, too, his hunters were, fast closing on their prey.
Straight forward, then, he forced his steed, and urged him with his hand
To where the cliff stood high and sheer above the sea-beat strand;
Then from the soldiers and the spies arose a joyful cheer;
The toilsome chase was well-nigh o'er, the wishedfor end was near;
They stretched their eager hands to pluck the rider from his seat;
A few more lusty strides, and they might swing him to their feet,
For now betwixt him and the verge are scarce ten feet of ground.
But, stay! good God! out o'er the cliff the horse is seen to bound.
The soldiers hasten to the spot, they gaze around, below;
No splash disturbs the waves that keep their smooth and even flow;
From their green depths no form of man is seen to rise,
Far down upon the stony strand no mangled body lies.
"Look up! look up!" a soldier shouts; "oh! what a sight is there!
Behold the priest, on horseback still, is speeding through the air!"
They looked, and lo! the words were true, and, trembling with affright,
They saw the vision pierce the blue and vanish from their sight.
Three miles away, across the bay, a group, with wondrous eyes,
Saw some strange speck come rushing fast toward them from the skies.
A bird they deemed it first to be; they watched its course, and soon
They deemed it some black burning mass flung from the sun or moon.
It neared the earth-their hearts beat fast-they held their breaths with awe,
As clear, and clearer still-the horse-and thenthe man-they saw!
They shut their eyes, they stopped their ears, to spare their hearts the shock;
As steed and rider both came down and struck the solid rock.
Ay, on the solid rock they struck, but never made a sound;
No horrid mass of flesh and blood was scattered all around;
For when the horse fell on his knees, and when the priest was thrown
A little forward, and his hands came down upon the stone,
That instant, by God's potent will, the flinty rock became
Like moistened clay, or wax that yields before a glowing flame.
Unhurt, unharmed, the priest arose, and with a joyful start
He pressed his hand upon his breast-the Host was near his heart.
Long years have passed away since then, in sun, and wind, and rain,
But still of that terrific leap the wondrous marks remain.
On the high cliff from which he sprang,-now deemed a sacred place,—
The prints left by the horse's hoofs are plain for all to trace.
T. D. Sullivan.
THE AUCTIONEER'S GIFT.
THE auctioneer leaped on a chair, and bold and loud and clear
He poured his cataract of words, just like an auctioneer.
An auction sale of furniture, where some hard mortgagee
Was bound to get his money back, and pay his lawyer's fee.
A humorist of wide renown, this doughty auc tioneer,
His joking raised the loud guffaw, and brought the answering jeer.
He knocked down bureaus, beds and stoves and clocks and chandeliers,
And a grand piano, which he said would last a thousand years;"
He rattled out the crockery, and sold the silverware;
At last they passed him up to sell a little baby's chair.
"How much? how much? come, make a bid; is all your money spent?"
And then a cheap, facetious wag came up and bid, "One cent."
Just then a sad-faced woman, who stood in silence there,
Broke down and cried, "My baby's chair! My poor dead baby's chair!"
"Here, madam, take your baby's chair," said the softened auctioneer,
"I know its value all too well, my baby died last year;
And if the owner of the chair, our friend, the mortgagee,
Objects to this proceeding, let him send the bill to me!"
Gone was the tone of raillery; the humorist auctioneer
Turned shamefaced from his audience, to brush away a tear;
The laughing crowd was awed and still, no tearless eye was there
When the weeping woman reached and took her little baby's chair.
S. W. Foss.
A FRIENDLESS pup that heard the fife
Sprang to the column thro' the clearing,
And on to Switzerland and strife