an sympathies yearn
To aid the child-victim the woman's heart bleeds for,
For whom a man's breast with compassion must burn.

Poor child! The dark shadow that closely pursues her
Means menacing Terror; she sues for a shield,
And how shall the strong AEgis-bearer refuse her?
The bondage of caste to calm justice must yield.

We dare not be deaf to the voice of the pleader
For freedom and purity, nature and right;
Let Wisdom, high-throned as controller and leader,
Meet cruelty's steel with the shield of calm might!

* * * * *

MY MOTHER BIDS ME DYE MY HAIR.

[Auburn is said to be the present fashionable colour in hair.]

[Illustration: The Hazard of the Dye.]

My Mother bids me dye my hair
A lovely auburn hue,
She says I ought to be aware
It's quite the thing to do.

"Why sit," she cries, "without a smile,
Whilst others dance instead?"
Alas! no partners ask me while
My tresses are not red.

When no one else at all is near,
And I am quite alone,
I sadly shed a bitter tear
To think the Season's gone.

But when the time again draws nigh,
The time when maidens wed,
I'm quite resolved to "do _and_ dye"--
My tresses _shall_ be red!

* * * * *

TO ENGELBERG AND BACK.

_BEING A FEW NOTES TAKEN EN ROUTE IN SEARCH OF A PERFECT CURE._

I don't exactly know how I got mixed up with it, but I found myself
somehow "fixed," as our American cousins would say, to join a party
who were going to see Old JEPHSON (the Q.C.), who had broken "down,"
or broken "up," or had gone through some mental and physical smashing
process or other, that necessitated an immediate recourse to mountain
air,--to where he could get it of the right sort and quality with
as little strain or tax on his somewhat shattered nerves as might be
compatible with a dash into the heart of Switzerland at the fag-end
of the swarming tourists' season. "Murren will be too high for him:
distinctly too high for him," thoughtfully observed the distinguished
specialist who had been called in, and had at once prescribed the
"air tonic" in question; "and the Burgenstock would be too low. His
condition requires an elevation of about 3500 feet. Let me see.
Ha! Engelberg is the place for him. My dear lady," he continued,
addressing Mrs. JEPHSON, who had already imbibed the theory that
every altitude, from Primrose Hill to