lable multitude of spectators, until in
the distance we saw the instrument of death.

* * * * *

THE CHILD'S WARNING.

There's blood upon the lady's cheek,
There's brightness in her eye:
Who says the sentence is gone forth
That that fair thing must die?

Must die before the flowering lime,
Out yonder, sheds its leaf--
Can this thing be, O human flower!
Thy blossoming so brief?

Nay, nay, 'tis but a passing cloud,
Thou didst but droop awhile;
There's life, long years, and love and joy,
Whole ages, in that smile--

In the gay call that to thy knee
Brings quick that loving child,
Who looks up in those laughing eyes
With his large eyes so mild.

Yet, thou art doom'd--art dying; all
The coming hour foresee,
But, in love's cowardice, withhold
The warning word from thee.

God keep thee and be merciful!
His strength is with the weak;
Through babes and sucklings, the Most High
Hath oft vouchsafed to speak--

And speaketh now--"Oh, mother dear!"
Murmurs the little child;
And there is trouble in its eyes,
Those large blue eyes so mild--

"Oh, mother dear! they say that soon,
When here I seek for thee,
I shall not find thee--nor out there,
Under the old oak-tree;

"Nor up stairs in the nursery,
Nor any where, they say.
Where wilt thou go to, mother dear?
Oh, do not go away!"

Then was long silence--a deep hush--
And then the child's low sob.
_Her_ quivering eyelids close--one hand
Keeps down the heart's quick throb.

And the lips move, though sound is none,
That inward voice is prayer.
And hark! "Thy will, O Lord, be done!"
And tears are trickling there,

Down that pale cheek, on that young head--
And round her neck he clings;
And child and mother murmur out
Unutterable things.

_He_ half unconscious--_she_ deep-struck
With sudden, solemn truth,
That number'd are her days on earth,
Her shroud prepared in youth--

That all in life her heart holds dear,
God calls her to resign.
She hears--feels--trembles--but looks up,
And sighs, "Thy will be mine!"

C.

* * * * *

THE TWO PATRONS.

CHAPTER I.