body with a mantle, a veil about her head; her legs were bare beneath the knee, that men might see each step. Alas! ill was it becoming a Queen to be so naked! Men brought forth the fiery shares and laid them all in a row on the bare earth, swept, to show God's grace. The Bishops blessed the shares, and the Queen also, and led her forth on either side to perform the trial. The Queen thought altogether on God, and cast her eyes to heaven, and never looked at all downward; and as they all saw, she stepped upon those fiery irons, every step quite clean; neither did she herself know when it was, nor stop once. There was joy and pleasure enough, and many a weeping eye, first for fear, and afterwards for joy, when they saw this. The Bishop who led her also wept for joy; and praised God and Saint Swithun, who had done this miracle, and led her out of the church. The Queen began to cry, 'for the love of Jesus Christ do me not the wrong to inflict my penance without, but in all manner as it was ordained me here in the Holy Church.'

"Madam,' quoth the Bishop,' thou hast performed it already.'

"So help me God,' quoth the Queen. 'I did not know it before; no fire I felt nor saw in this place. But now first I see it, praised be God!'"

Another ten days bring us to the twentyfifth, and St. James's Day, formerly a feast of some importance in the English and Roman Church.

Saint James was the first Apostolic martyr, and suffered by sword, under Herod Agrippa, about A.D. 43. On this day apples used to be blessed by the priests of Rome, and oysters used to come in. The latter were prohibited by Act of Parliament "until Saint James's Day." Since the new style has been introduced, August the fifth is regarded as the first day for oysters. Under the old style there was a vulgar superstition that whosoever ate oysters on St. James's Day would never want money. In the grotto formed of oyster-shells and lighted with a votive candle, to which on old St. James's Day the passer-by was earnestly entreated to contribute by cries of "please remember the grotto," we have a memorial both of the old regulation about oysters and of the world-renowned shrine of St. James at Compatella.

An old saw informs us that :

If the rye be green on Saint George's Day,
Fresh bread on Saint James's eat we may.

It is undoubtedly of importance for the welfare of the country that we should have a good spring, which should be well advanced on Saint George's Day; but our domestic economy will be very little disturbed whether we have this year's bread on Saint James's Day or at Christmas. A harvest gathered in, threshed, and the corn ground as early as July the twenty. fifth, would be a novelty in these days of cold springs and late summers.

There is a Saint of great esteem in the Romish Church, whom I have purposely missed out of her proper order, that is St. Margaret, an Italian virgin, who was martyred in the year 278 A.D., and whose day is observed on the twentieth of July, On this day, in Paris, formerly women who expected to become mothers before the year was out, proceeded to church to invoke the protection of St. Margaret.

In the month of July there was annually celebrated, for four centuries, at Hamburg a strange festival, known as "The Cherry Feast." It was for the most part confined to young folks, who, when cherries were ripe, usually early in the month, marched through the streets of the town bearing branches laden with ripe, luscious fruit. Like every other ceremony it celebrates an event, which has not yet been forgotten. In the year 1432 a great Hussite army besieged the city of Hamburg, under the command of Procopius the Great. The war had raged for many years, and on both sides it had become both bitter and cruel. When they saw the army outside their walls the people of Hamburg became extremely frightened, as they could not hope to hold out long against such odds. A council of chief citizens was held to devise some method of saving the town.

Nothing seemed feasible until someone suggested that they should send out all the little children, for, said one, "the sight will surely melt the hearts of the soldiers, and they will do us no harm."

The suggestion was acted upon, and all the children of the town were gathered together from their homes and set in marching order. The gates of the city were opened, and they were told to march out to the army. Great was the surprise of the army to see the gates of the city swing open; but greater still their surprise when they saw march out an army of little children, clad in white. When they heard the pattering of the tiny feet, and when the little ones drew up timidly before the tents, the warriors were fairly conquered,

and tears filled their eyes. They, who had come to rob, kill, and burn, threw down their arms, and, gathering beautiful branches full of fruit off the cherry trees, sent the children back to their parents with those branches and a message of peace, which was faithfully observed. The children won a great and bloodless victory, and, in commemoration of it, these branches were until recently, if not now, carried through the streets by the children.

With this beautiful legend, I may, I think, conclude the notice of this month.

PAST AND FUTURE.

GOD called her home, ye say! Ah, well, she's dead.
Her tender feet no longer tread life's ways;
Her soft, small hands, that wore the marriage-ring
So short a time, are folded. We were wed
Meseemeth but a fleeting summer day;
And she is gone, and life's an empty thing!
Yet do I know-the while my heart is sore,
The while hot tears course slowly down my cheek-
Though veiled sorrow sits my hearth beside,
That some day life will be a joy once more;
That some day time will heal; will bid me seek
Another love, and woo another bride.

I, standing here, and looking at her face-
Her sweet young face, with its fair girlish brow,
Her soft brown hair, unlined, unchanged, and
bright-

Remember sadly all the tiny space

In which we loved; yet, quivering from the blow,
I know I shall forget this piteous sight,

Tis the worst part, my dear; if I could mourn
With shattered heart, my whole life long. I would.
But think, one year-only one year was ours-
Out of my life: must all then be forlorn?
Nay, though thou'rt dead, life still can be most
Though thou art dead, still spring will give her

good,

flowers.

I trust thou may'st not know, in that far land
Beyond the stars, that time will bring me rest.
And yet I think thou would'st not grudge me peace,
Ah, God! be good! and let me understand:
Let me believe that all Thou dost is best.
Nor let her suffer, when my sufferings cease.

Fold smooth the shroud over her sweet young form,
And carry her away, since it must be.
My sorrow shall be buried in her tomb.
At least, she lieth sheltered from life's storm.
So will I leave her there, and fervently
Will pray that light may rise beyond life's gloom.

SOUTH AFRICAN SKETCHES.

AN IDYL OF GONG-GONG.
IN TWO PARTS. PART I.

Of all the mining camps which sprang up upon the quiet banks of the Vaal River, during the great rush in the first year of the discovery of diamonds in South | Africa, that of Gong gong was undoubtedly the most picturesque. It owed

its existence to a sudden bend of the river, which, cutting into the abrupt red heights of Cawood's Hope, on the opposite side, left stretched along under the low hills of the northern bank, a broad and level spit of river detritus. So favourable a spot as this spit was not likely to escape the observation of the hundreds of "prospecting" parties who were scattered up and down the river; a few trial holes were dug, and, the yield of diamonds being good, work was commenced in earnest; diggers flocked in; and the camp was established.

Gong-gong, however, never attained any great pre-eminence as a camp, and though some two hundred claims were opened, they were soon abandoned for the superior attractions of Cawood's Hope and Seven Hells. Shortly after this the opening of the dry diggings at Du Toit's Pan and the New Rush ruined all the camps on the river, Gong-gong amongst the rest; and in December, 1871, only a score of tents stood dotted about among the clumps of acacia, which still fringed the confusion. of yawning pits and unshapely heaps of stones of the disused claims. diggers who remained were either sceptical persons, who declined to believe in the lasting prosperity of the dry diggings; enthusiasts, who were firmly persuaded that Gong-gong would be the camp of the future; or indolent men, who liked the locality and were too lazy to move.

The few

And indeed the scenery was sufficiently pretty to count for something. The broad and swift river swept onward between its red banks with many a graceful curve, and murmured and babbled over the pebbly shallows which were said to have given birth to the native name of Gong-gong, or "laughing waters." At the drift the waters leaped and sparkled, and the sunlight flashed on the glistening surface of thousands of exquisite river agatesgarnets, red and white cornelian, rosequartz, jasper, chalcedony, and green beryl-lavishly strewn around by the hand of Nature, but regarded as mere dirt by the digger in search of a short cut to fortune. The precipitous banks on the Cawood's Hope side were clothed with tall and graceful African willows, while the sandy spit at Gong-gong was covered with thickets of the golden-flowered acacia and the pink-blossomed sugar-bush. Tall rushes rustled and swayed at the water's edge; clusters of arum lilies, known to the Africander as "pig lilies," whitened every gully and hollow; and low, undulating

hills, sparsely covered with rhinoster bush, closed in the view.

A short distance above the half-deserted camp the river was so quiet that the "rietbok" lurked undisturbed amid the cool rushes during the hot noon, and at morning and evening the "duiker" might be seen stealing down amongst the bushes to drink. One gazed down upon the bright, sparkling river and the fresh green foliage of Gong-gong with quite a sense of grateful relief, after having tramped the nine miles of monotonous and dreary road from Klipdrift-nine miles of bare plain, backed by bare, flat-topped hills, and with nothing but an occasional stunted camel-thorn, stretching out its gaunt limbs like a weird sign-post, to break the sameness of the view.

After the dusty and fever-stricken camps on the De Beer plain had drawn away nine-tenths of the diggers from the river, Gong-gong became the Sleepy Hollow of the Diamond Fields, where men dreamed out a lazy existence, forgotten by the noisy, neighbouring world, and utterly careless as to its doings. The inhabitants of Klipdrift and Pniel might be exasperated almost past endurance by the sarcasms of the noisy, swaggering, and booted men who came down in crowds from the New Rush for change of air and ablutionary purposes; but Gong-gong was too much out of the way to be visited by any of these gentry, and was like some decayed and quiet old county town, cast into the shade and despised by its precocious manufacturing neighbour.

The fifty odd diggers who, towards the close of the year 1871, formed five-sixths of the white population of Gong gong, were one afternoon much excited by a startling rumour which spread through the camp. According to this rumour no less a strange animal than a woman had unexpectedly descended from an ox waggon which had, a few minutes earlier in the day, arrived at the canteen which was managed by the enterprising Nathaniel Cobb. For months woman had been an unknown creature in the camp, and the excitement, consequently, ran high.

In the early days of the diggings, a few ladies, predatory in habit, animal in Instinct, uncleanly in person, and scanty in attire, had honoured the camp with their presence. These ladies had been representatives of the "noble savage," as exemplified in the Koranna tribe of Hottentots, and their knowledge of the English

language had been confined to a number of expressions which were, in the strictest sense of the word, unparliamentary. On the decadence of Gong-gong they had shifted the scene of their depredations to other camps, where man and money were more abundant.

The rumour, however, which was now agitating the camp, said that the newcomer was not as the former representatives of her sex had been. It was even believed that she looked respectable; and when James Markwell, who had been passing by Cobb's canteen when she alighted from the waggon, and who had with praiseworthy zeal at once proceeded to the claims to tell the news, asserted that she wore boots and stockings, her claims to that high honour were accepted without question.

"Yaller leather boots, and white stockings with red stripes, as I'm a living man,” reiterated Markwell, to the knot of bearded. and dusty men who were leaning upon pick-axes and spades in careless attitudes around him; "yaller leather boots and white stockings with red stripes."

The speaker was a tall and thin man, attired in moleskin trousers, long boots, and a red flannel shirt, the sleeves of which latter, rolled back nearly to the shoulder, exposed two long and lean, but sinewy arms, with an abnormal developement of joint at the elbow; while the unnatural contiguity of his knees, when his feet were unduly separated, told of a similar disproportion of knee joint. His face was indicative of a curious mixture of simplicity and thoughtfulness. The prominent brow, with its straight and shaggy eyebrows, overhung and threw into shadow two deepset and piercing grey eyes; but the mouth, half hidden as it was by a huge sandy moustache, was patently weak and irresolute; while the chin receded in a manner that not even the luxuriant growth of yellow beard could altogether disguise.

"A relation of Cobb's, I s'pose," ventured one of the group.

"His wife, p'raps."

"Or his mother," suggested another; "eh, Jimmy ?"

"Couldn't be his mother," replied Markwell, who seemed to think it was his duty to undertake the defence of the personal attractions of the lady whose advent he had been the first to announce. "She didn't appear to be more'n nineteen or twenty.'

White, of course?"

"Ye-es, whitish. Pretty nigh pure white, I should think."

An immediate relaxation of interest was apparent at this announcement of the fact that the fair arrival was a representative of two or more varieties of the human race; and all appeared disappointed.

"It's just like Markwell," said Stokes, with a shrug, "to come taking us all from our work to tell us that a nigger woman has turned up."

"But she ain't nigger, Stokes," hurriedly explained the aggrieved Markwell; "she's very nigh white, and what colour there is I take to be Malay."

"Well, anyhow, nigger or Malay, she can't be a relation of Cobb's."

"No. Who can she be ?"

As there appeared to be no prospect of this enigma being immediately solved, the men one by one slouched away, for it was near sunset, and the day's work was done; while Markwell went up the narrow path through the fringe of acacia scrub, which still threw a veil over the rude nakedness of the earth, where it had been scored, and pitted, and heaped up with stones and 'stuff" in the palmier days of the camp. About half-way up the gentle ascent, Markwell stopped at a canteen which stood on the right-hand side of the devious path. This canteen was presided over by a gentleman named Randall, and was known to the diggers as "Randall's Bar." Randall and Cobb were the only two canteen-keepers in the camp, and, in order to support the old aphorism that two of a trade never agree, they were rivals and bitter enemies.

The fact was that, thirsty as were the inhabitants of Gong-gong as a rule, they were insufficient in number to guarantee those profits which canteen-keepers expected in those days at the Diamond Fields. Fifty regular patrons, with incidental Kaffirs, Hottentots, and wayfarers thrown in, would be a very good basis for one canteen; but, when divided between two, they sufficed for neither. Each proprietor, therefore, grumbled and talked of soon going away, while each really intended staying where he was, hoping that the other would move off and leave him a clear field.

As a consequence of there being two canteens with rival proprietors, Gong-gong society was divided into two sets, and each bar was haunted by its own particular supporters. No ill-feeling, however, existed between these two parties beyond

the personal hatred of the two principals for each other; for men are, in this respect, unlike women, and they neither become violent partisans about matters which do not concern them, nor do they necessarily quarrel when much thrown together and deprived of the society of the opposite sex.

Standing by the door of Randall's Bar, leaning against one of the uprights of the tent frame, and basking in the warm glow of the setting sun, was Italy, the representative of art at the Diamond Fields. He had given out, on his arrival from the New Rush, that he had come down to sketch; but he had now been a fortnight at Gong-gong, and had done nothing but lounge daily on a bank of fragrant heath, in the shade of a spreading tree, with his hat slouched over his eyes, and his pipe in his mouth, lazily listening to the babble of the water as it leaped over the rapids, the hum of the insects, and the chirp of the tree-cricket.

This exhausting kind of exercise, and a pretty regular attendance at Randall's, had occupied all his time, and it was evident that he was in no hurry to begin his work; though when Stokes, who prided himself on the possession of a vein of caustic satire, remarked that he was not at all likely to make himself ill through over fatigue, he grew quite indignant, and declared that any idiot, who knew anything about art, knew that it was most necessary to study the best points of view before commencing a picture.

The diggers, however, at these remote camps, were always inclined to regard visitors from the dry diggings with suspicion, believing that they had changed their residences on account of motives which it would have been inconvenient to explain; and any statements as to their motives in coming, made by such errant gentry, were invariably taken at a heavy discount.

The sun was now sinking like a ball of fire beyond the red ochre-coloured hills in the distance, throwing long golden rays. of light over Gong-gong, tingeing with a roseate hue the white tents dotted about among the acacias, and dancing in a thousand golden spangles on the rippling water at the drift. From the claims men with pick and spade on shoulder were wending their ways towards their tents; the cradles were motionless on the river bank; and here and there thin white curls of smoke, clearly delineated against the evening sky, rose up from numerous newly-lighted camp