I thought of our little quarrels and strife;
And the letter that brought me back my ring.
And it all seem'd then, in the waste of life,
Such a very little thing!

For I thought of her grave below the hill,
Which the sentinel cypress-tree stands over.
And I thought—" Were she only living still,
How I could forgive her, and love her!"

And I swear, as I thought of her thus, in that hour,
And of how, after all, old things were best,
That I smelt the smell of that jasmin-flower
Which she used to wear in her breast.

It smelt so faint, and it smelt so sweet,

It made me creep, and it made me cold!

Like the scent that steals from the crumbling sheet
Where a mummy is half unroll'd.

And I turn'd, and look'd. She was sitting there
In a dim box, over the stage; and drest
In that muslin dress, with that full soft hair,
And that jasmin in her breast!

I was here: and she was there:

And the glittering horseshoe curved between:From my bride-betroth'd, with her raven hair, And her sumptuous, scornful mien,

To my early love, with her eyes downcast,
And over her primrose face the shade,
(In short from the Future back to the Past)
There was but a step to be made.

To my early love from my future bride

One moment I look'd. Then I stole to the door; I traversed the passage; and down at her side, 1 was sitting, a moment more.

My thinking of her, or the music's strain.
Or something which never will be expre
Had brought her back from the grave a
With the jasmin in her breast.

She is not dead, and she is not wed!

But she loves me now, and she loved me then; And the very first word that her sweet lips said, My heart grew youthful again.

The Marchioness there, of Carabas,

She is wealthy, and young, and handsome still, And but for her

well, we'll let that pass,

She may marry whomever she will.

But I will marry my own first love,

With her primrose face: for old things are best: And the flower in her bosom, I prize it above The brooch in my lady's breast.

The world is filled with folly and sin,
And Love must cling where it can, I say
For Beauty is easy enough to win;
But one isn't loved very day.

And I think, in the lives of most women and men, There's a moment when all would go smooth and

even,

If only the dead could find out when

To come back and be forgiven.

But O the smell of that jasmin-flower!
And O that music! and O the way

That voice ran out from the donjon tower,

Non ti scordar di me,

Non ti scordar di me !

BUNYAN

JOHN BUNYAN, the author of "The Pilgrim's Progress," born at Elstow, England, in 1628; died at Snow Hill in 1688. He was a tinker by trade, and had served as a soldier in the Civil War. He became a Baptist, and in 1655 was appointed a preacher. The Non-Conformist Act was passed in 1660, and Bunyan was thrown into Bedford Jail. To his imprisonment we owe his great work, “The Pilgrim's Progress."

NOW

THE GOLDEN CITY

(From "The Pilgrim's Progress")

OW I saw in my dream that by this time the pilgrims were got over the Enchanted Ground, and entering into the country of Beulah, whose air was very sweet and pleasant, the way lying directly through it, they solaced them there for the season. Yea, here they heard continually the singing of birds, and saw every day the flowers appear in the earth, and heard the voice of the turtle in the land. In this country the sun shineth night and day; wherefore it was beyond the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and also out of the reach of Giant Despair; neither could they from this place so much as see Doubting Castle. Here they were within sight of the city they were going to; also here met them some of the inhabitants thereof; for in this land the shining ones commonly walked, because it was upon the borders of Heaven. In this land, also, the contract between the bride and bridegroom was renewed; yea, here, "as the bridegroom rejoiceth

over the bride, so did their God rejoice over them." Here they had no want of corn and wine; for in this place they met abundance of what they had sought for in all their pilgrimage. Here they heard voices from out of the city-loud voices-saying: Say ye to the daughter of Zion, behold, thy salvation cometh! Behold, his reward is with him!" Here all the inhabitants of the country called them "the holy people, the redeemed of the Lord, sought out," &c.

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Now, as they walked in this land, they had more rejoicing than in parts more remote from the kingdom to which they were bound; and drawing nearer to the city yet, they had a more perfect view thereof: it was built of pearls and precious stones, also the streets thereof were paved with gold; so that, by reason of the natural glory of the city, and the reflection of the sunbeams upon it, Christian with desire fell sick; Hopeful also had a fit or two of the same disease: wherefore here they lay by it a while, crying out, because of their pangs: "If you see my Beloved, tell him that I am sick of love."

But being a little strengthened, and better able to bear their sickness, they walked on their way, and came yet nearer and nearer, where were orchards, vineyards and gardens, and their gates opened into the highway. Now, as they came up to these places, behold the gardener stood in the way, to whom the pilgrims said: "Whose goodly vineyards and gar

dens are these?" He answered:

"They are the King's, and are planted here for his own delight, and also for the solace of pilgrims." So the gardener had them into the vineyards, and bid them refresh themselves with dainties; he also showed them there the King's walks and arbors, where he delighted to be; and here they tarried and slept.

Now, I beheld in my dream that they talked more

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in their sleep at this time than ever they did in all their journey; and being in a muse thereabout, the gardener said even to me: Wherefore musest thou at the matter?" It is the nature of the fruit of the grapes of these vineyards to go down so sweetly as to cause the lips of them that are asleep to speak.

So I saw that when they awoke, they addressed themselves to go up to the city. But, as I said, the reflection of the sun upon the city-for the city was pure gold-was so extremely glorious that they could not as yet with open face behold it, but through an instrument made for that purpose. So I saw that, as they went on, there met them two men in raiment that shone like gold; also their faces shone as the light.

These men asked the pilgrims whence they came; and they told them. They also asked them where they had lodged, what difficulties and dangers, what comforts and pleasures, they had met with in their way; and they told them. Then said the men that met them: "You have but two difficulties more to meet with, and then you are in the city.".

Christian and his companion then asked the men to go along with them; so they told them that they would. But, said they, you must obtain it by your own faith. So I saw in my dream that they went on together till they came in sight of the gate.

Now, I further saw that betwixt them and the gate was a river, but there was no bridge to go over, and the river was very deep. At the sight, therefore, of this river, the pilgrims were much stunned; but the men that went with them said: "You must go through, or you cannot come to the gate.”

The pilgrims then began to inquire if there was no other way to the gate; to which they answered: "Yes; but there hath not any, save two-to wit, Enoch and Elijah-been permitted to tread that path since the foundation of the world, nor shall,