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Lang, Andrew: Historical Mysteries (continued).
II. The Campden Mystery .
III. The Case of Allan Breck
IV. The Strange Case of Daniel Dunglas Home
V. The Case of Elizabeth Canning
VI. The Murder of Escovedo
Little, Mrs. Archibald: In a Viceregal City
Lord Rowton and Rowton Houses. By Sir Richard Farrant
Some Empty Chairs
Macpherson, Hector: Herbert Spencer
Martin, J. Sackville: A Tale of Japan.
Mason, A. E. W.: The Truants (Chapters I.-X
4, 146, 289, 444, 577, 721
Maxwell, The Rt. Hon. Sir Herbert, Bart: Sir John Moore
Memories of 'The Times.' By Alex. Innes Shand
Motion of the Solar System through Space (The). By Frank Watson
My Princess: A Medley. By F. S.
Nineteenth Century Philosopher (A). By F. J. H. Darton .
No. 10 Downing Street. By the Right Hon. Sir Algernon West,
Old Time Newfoundland. By Judge Prowse, K.C.
Parry, His Honour Judge: A Day of My Life in the County Court
Pennell, Mrs. Elizabeth Robins: In London Chambers (from the
Powder Blue Baron (The). By Mrs. Alfred Sidgwick
Provincial Letters. XIV. From Beaconsfield. By Urbanus Sylvan. 267
Richardson, Frank: The Folly of Face-Fittings.
Russell, T. Baron: The Ingenuity of Mr. Clinton Bathurst
Shenstone, W. A., F.R.S.: Modern Theories of Light
Sidgwick, Mrs. Alfred: The Powder Blue Baron
Sir John Moore. By the Rt. Hon. Sir Herbert Maxwell, Bart..
Swordsmanship considered Historically and as a Sport. By Egerton
Visits of an Editor (The). By Leonard Huxley
Wallis, Arthur F.: Icarus
THE SEA-BORN MAN.
I HAVE wandered too far from the foam on the shore, from the sand and the grey-blowing grass,
Since I came from the dim of the deep ocean land through the clear-shining country to pass.
I whistled and sang because never before
A Sea Man had come from the sea,
And I laughed to the children who played at the door,
'O see the Gaberlunzie man!
The silly crazy outland man!'
And after me, all after me the village people ran.
Of the soft-woven weed was my mantle of grey, and a garland of pearls in my hair;
Through the beautiful city that shines to the sea methought like a prince I should fare.
O the gay market-booths in the square on the hill!
O the banner that blows o'er the gate!
But the people were sure that I meant them some ill
And whispered with faces of hate,
'Come catch and kill the stranger man,
The ugly evil outland man,'
And fast as foam along the sea, across the fields I ran.
Through the waves of the meadow I followed the wind and watched
all alone in my mirth,
How the little warm creatures, the brown and the grey, did
for joy of the earth.
VOL. XVI.-NO. 91, N.S.
And the songs in the sky were a merry mad crowd,
I thought they were spirits that sang in a cloud
And O the liquid utterings,
Dainty flights and flutterings
Here and there of hedgerow birds with pretty painted wings.
Where the forest is dim like the green water-world and the gossamers float in the dew,
I went till I heard how a multitude sang, and fain had I sung with them too.
There was surging of sound from a palace of spires,
A throng in its cavernous gate,
It was pierced with rubies and walled with sapphìres
'O fair,' I said, 'to see and hear!
What though they kill me I'll come near,
'Twere shame on thee, thou sea-born man, a bitter shame to fear.'
So I strode from the forest and shook my long hair, as I stood like a rock on the turf,
And sang the great song that the sea-heroes sing, when they clash in the roar of the surf.
There was shadow behind me and silence before,
And then came a terrible cry,
And far o'er the meadows and in at the door
I saw the pale multitude fly.
The mighty gates with hollow sound
Shut after them, and round and round Their palace fair I walked and cried and never entrance found.
At evening I heard the slow sigh of the wood and thought it a voice that I knew.
I said, 'I will break through the rampart of green and suddenly burst on the blue.'
O the frank open spaces, the sea and the sky,
Where the winds spread their wings and are free!
Among the thickets of the thorn
I lay my body cold and torn,
And on the bough a sea-born wind doth rock itself and mourn.
Thou wind that art talking alone in the wood the speech of the wave on the shore,
Go tell to my love I am drowned in the wood and never shall come to her more.
Go tell to my mother who watches alone,
Ah, not how I wandered and died!
Go say to her who'll watch in vain,
Yet happily, most happily beyond the hills I reign.
MARGARET L. WOODS.