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beaks! He could not understand it himself, but he liked them just as they were. He did not wish to think of harm coming to them, and in his prayers he made a silent exception in favor of these little helpless creatures.

When the peasant women brought him food he was no longer angry with them. Since he was necessary for the safety of the little ones up there in his hand, he was glad that the people would not let him starve.

Soon six little heads peered over the top of the nest. 10 Feathers began to grow, and the tiny bodies looked soft and round. Old Hatto's arm sank again and again to the level of his eyes as he watched the daily doings of the birds. And meanwhile prayers for the great destruction of the world came more and more slowly from his lips. 15 He believed that God had promised to answer his prayer when the birds were ready to fly, and the time was drawing near. How could he watch the sacrifice of these tiny lives which he had guarded and cherished! It had been different when he had nothing to care for. Now his love 20 for the little creatures made him hesitate, and he stood there seeking some way of escape for them.

Then came the great day when the young birds were taught to fly. One of the parents sat inside the nest, trying to push them over the edge, while the other flew about 25 to show them how easy it was. But the little ones were afraid, and both of the old birds flew off together, showing their prettiest arts and tricks.

It was of no use; the babies would not move; and at last Hatto decided that he must interfere in the matter himself. With careful finger he gave them each a gentle push and out they tumbled, trembling and uncertain at first, but soon learning the proper motion, while the hermit 5 chuckled softly to himself.

And now he thought long and deeply how he could release the great Ruler of the world from the promise. Perhaps, he pondered, God holds this earth like a bird's nest in his hand, loving all the helpless ones within it. Per- 10 haps he would be glad not to answer the prayer.

The next day the little nest was empty and the hermit stood there in bitter loneliness. He shrank in terror from the thought of all the evil for which he had prayed. Suddenly he heard a happy chirping and the birds were 15 flying about his head and shoulders. They trusted him they had no fear in their hearts. And with their coming a vivid memory returned to him. Every day he had lowered his arm to look into the nest!

Then he nodded, smiling, as if to some one whom he 20 could not see. "It is well," he said. "I have failed to keep my vow. Thou needst not keep thine."

And it seemed to him that the whole world was full of peace and love.

From the Swedish

pollard a tree that has been cut off close to the trunk so that new shoots may grow out.

THE KEARSARGE

JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE

JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE (1847-1908), a Boston journalist of Irish birth, was the author of several poems of unusual quality.

NOTE. Roncador is a coral reef in the Caribbean Sea on which many a good ship has been wrecked.

In the gloomy ocean bed

Dwelt a formless thing, and said,

In the dim and countless æons long ago,
"I will build a stronghold high,
Ocean's power to defy,

And the pride of haughty man to lay low."

Crept the minutes for the sad,

Sped the cycles for the glad,

But the march of time was neither less nor more;

While the formless atom died,

Myriad millions by its side,

And above them slowly lifted Roncador.

Roncador of Caribbee,

Coral dragon of the sea,

Ever sleeping with his teeth below the wave;

Woe to him who breaks the sleep!

Woe to them who sail the deep!

Woe to ship and man that fear a shipman's grave!

Hither many a galleon old,

Heavy-keeled with guilty gold,

Fled before the hardy rover smiting sore;

But the sleeper silent lay

Till the

preyer

and his prey

Brought their plunder and their bones to Roncador.

Be content, O conqueror!

Now our bravest ship of war,

War and tempest who had often braved before,

All her storied prowess past,

Strikes her glorious flag at last

To the formless thing that builded Roncador.

æon (e'on): an immeasurable period of time. - galleon: a Spanish merchant vessel, armed, and having four decks. Many of the pirate ships were galleons. our bravest ship of war: the Kearsarge, a famous vessel of the United States Navy, was lost on Roncador reef in 1894.

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TRAVELING IN ENGLAND IN 1685

THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY

THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY (1800-1859) was an English historian and poet, famous for the brilliancy and clearness of his style. His Lays of Ancient Rome should be familiar in every schoolroom.

Whoever examines the maps of London which were 5 published towards the close of the reign of Charles the Second will see that only the nucleus of the present capital then existed. The town did not, as now, fade by imperceptible degrees into the country. No long avenues of villas embowered in lilacs and laburnums extended from 10 the great center of wealth and civilization almost to the boundaries of Middlesex and far into the heart of Kent and Surrey. On the south the capital is now connected with its suburb by several bridges, not inferior in magnificence and solidity to the noblest works of the Cæsars. 15 In 1685 a single line of irregular arches, overhung by piles of mean and crazy houses, impeded the navigation of the river.

Of the metropolis, the City, properly so called, was the most important division. At the time of the Restoration 20 it had been built, for the most part, of wood and plaster;

the few bricks that were used were ill baked; the booths where goods were exposed to sale projected far into the streets, and were overhung by the upper stories. A few