re's many of you to-morrow who, but for a woman's hand,
Would be drifting about with the shore lights out and never a chance
to land.

"You've read of the noble woman in the midst of a Border fray
Who held her own in a castle lone, for her lord who was far away.
For the children who gather'd round her and the home that she loved
so well,
And the deathless fame of a woman's name whom nothing but love could
quell.
Who, when the men would have yielded, with her own sweet lily hand,
Led them straight from the postern gate, and drove the foe from the
land.
There's many a little homestead that is cosy and sung to-day,
Because of a woman who stood in the door and kept the wolves at bay.

"Only a hindrance are we? then we'll be a hindrance still.
We hinder the devil and all his works, and I reckon he takes it ill.
We do the work that is nearest, and that is the surest plan,
But if ever you want a hero, and you cannot wait for a man,
You need not tell us the chances, you've only the need to show,
And there's many a woman in all the world who is willing and ready
to go,
For trust in trial, for work in woe, for comfort and care in sorrow,
The wives of the world are its strength to-day, the daughters it's
hope to-morrow."

A COUNTRY STORY.

(Founded on an old Legend.)

BY ALFRED H. MILES.

At the little town of Norton, in a famous western shire,
There dwelt a sightless maiden with her venerated sire.
To him she was the legacy her mother had bequeathed;
To her he was the very sun that warmed the air she breathed.

Old Alec was a carter, and he moved from town to town,
Taking parcels from the "The Wheatsheaf" to "The Mitre" or "The
Crown;"
And on festival occasions would the sightless maiden ride
To the old cathedral city by the honest carter's side.

Ere he tended to his duty at the market or the fair
He would seek the lofty Gothic pile, and leave the maiden there,
That the choir's joyous singing and the organ's solemn strain
Might beguile her simple fancy till he journeyed home again.

On the fair autumnal evening of a bright September day
She had heard the choir singing, she had heard the canons pray;
And the good old dean was preaching with simple words and wise
Of Him who gave the maiden life and touched the poor man's eyes.

And her tears fell fast and thickly as the good old preacher said
That even