The record of his failing time is read.

Chill to his heart strikes in the northern blast,
Ending the season as the year began;
December hastens to his final rest,
Friendless by the dark cruelty of man.
E'en now, while to his death-couch he is prest,
A wail rings round his head so pale and wan,
And withered flowers are ready for his bier,
That mock the dying with his past career.

His course has been with manhood, and his end
Is fitting for a type of humankind,
Around whose heavy head the laggard friend
The veil of useless pity comes to bind.
The dirge of his departure shall ascend
From those who scarce recalled his life to mind,
The tide of life above his grave rolls on,
And few remember he is dead and gone.

December passes, in the opening sky
Of the new year's first morning breaks a star,
The record he has left us here shall lie
Beside us when his form is borne afar.
Bending above his last farewell, I sigh
That he has left us, ingrate as we are,
And turning to the New Year, I behold
A new-born spirit throned upon the old.

[Illustration: Overvboard in the Gulf]

OVERBOARD IN THE GULF.

BY CHARLES J. PETERSON, AUTHOR OF "CRUISING IN THE LAST WAR," ETC., ETC.

[SEE ENGRAVING.]

"A man overboard!"

I heard the cry distinctly as the dark waters whirled me astern.

"Who?--where?"

"Heave over a coop!"

"Can you see him?"

"Clear away the quarter-boat!"

These were the cries that followed each other in rapid succession,
accompanied with the hurried tread of feet, which rose even over the
sounds of the whistling hurricane and of the roaring water in which I
was immersed.

We had been out from Marseilles about three days, and were now well up
with the Straits. A gale which had begun just after dawn had increased
with such violence that before the afternoon set in we were lying-to
under a storm stay-sail. Noticing that the heel of the boom was
chafing loose, I had gone aloft to repair it, when a sudden lurch tore
the spar from its fastenings, and flung me into the air like a ball
shot from a twenty-four.

At first I sunk plumb, as if tied to a shot; but in a few seconds
began to ascend. When I reached the surface, however, it was to find
myself whirling from the vessel's side, with a confused noise of the
howling tempest and the bubbling waters in my ears: yet over all rose