nd stormy days
We tossed upon the raging main.
And long we strove our bark to save;
But all our striving was in vain.
E'en then, when terror chilled my blood,
My heart was filled with love of thee.
The storm is past, and I'm at rest;
So, Mary, weep no more for me.

'Oh maiden dear, yourself prepare;
We soon shall meet upon that shore
Where love is free from doubt and care,
And you and I shall part no more.'
Loud crew the cock, the shadow fled;
No more her Sandy did she see;
But soft the passing spirit said,
'Sweet Mary, weep no more for me.'

'The constant jollity of that boy is worth a fortune to him. He'll never
sink with such a buoyant spirit to keep him afloat through life,' said
Mrs Jo, as the roses were tossed back with much applause when the song
ended.

'Not he; and it's a blessing to be grateful for, isn't it? We moody
people know its worth. Glad you like my first tableau. Come and see
number two. Hope it isn't spoilt; it was very pretty just now. This is
"Othello telling his adventures to Desdemona".'

The second window framed a very picturesque group of three. Mr March in
an arm-chair, with Bess on a cushion at his feet, was listening to Dan,
who, leaning against a pillar, was talking with unusual animation. The
old man was in shadow, but little Desdemona was looking up with the
moonlight full upon her into young Othello's face, quite absorbed in the
story he was telling so well. The gay drapery over Dan's shoulder,
his dark colouring, and the gesture of his arm made the picture very
striking, and both spectators enjoyed it with silent pleasure, till Mrs
Jo said in a quick whisper:

'I'm glad he's going away. He's too picturesque to have here among so
many romantic girls. Afraid his "grand, gloomy, and peculiar" style will
be too much for our simple maids.'

'No danger; Dan is in the rough as yet, and always will be, I fancy;
though he is improving in many ways. How well Queenie looks in that soft
light!'

'Dear little Goldilocks looks well everywhere.' And with a backward
glance full of pride and fondness, Mrs Jo went on. But that scene
returned to her long afterward and her own prophetic words also.

Number three was a tragical tableau at first sight; and Mr Laurie
stifled a laugh as he whispered 'The Wounded Knight', pointing to Tom
with his head enveloped in a large handkerchief, as he knelt before Nan,
who was extracting a thorn