you know it-about "entertaining angels unawares." That's why Father likes to be good to strangers.' Somehow, this idea made Springall Jack feel uncomfortable; and drawing back his chair, he was about to rise from his seat, when a man at the lower end of the table swept off all the silver within his reach, saying brutally, 'Suppose we best begin here, and go into the other rooms after, Captain?' 'Stop thundered the Captain. The first man who touches ought in this house shall account for it to me;' and he clicked the pistol he wore at his belt in a significant manner. 'To saddle, men! Such treatment as We have received to-day shall at any rate be repaid with gratitude and not robbery. Good-bye, little child,' he said, softening his voice, as he bent down to Keren. Shall you be afraid to kiss me if I tell you it is no angel, but Springall Jack, that you have entertained so kindly?' And then he was gone! and nothing was to be seen of Keren's guests but a cloud of white dust down the lane. CHAPTER II. A TWELVEMONTH has passed and it is again June. Once more is the old farm bright with blossom and sunshine, and Keren, joyous as ever, finds endless delight in outdoor games with her younger sister, who rolls and tumbles in the cool sweet grass; and when tired of this, beseeches Keren for rides in a little barrow which Father A had made during the dark winter days. trusty nurse is Keren; Mother is never anxious about little Ruth whilst the elder sister is in charge, and truly in many ways is Keren of use. She is great on preserving and baking days,can make her father's shirts, and mend the fine damask table-cloths, which are the pride of her mother. But with all these matronly accomplishments she is as unspoilt and merry as ever : the sun of New England never shone upon a more simple-hearted child. To her father she was as the apple of his eye; and though grateful beyond words that his darling should have suffered no wrong at the hands of the lawless robbers, yet he did not find it difficult to believe that it woukl be impossible for any one short of a fiend to hurt his little one. Springall Jack could not be utterly bad, since he could be so gentle and tender to his child. Such were the good farmer's sentiments, but they were shared by none else in that colony; all alike joined in hating and condemning the man, who with every month grew more bold and daring. Few, indeed, were the farms which his band had not visited and despoiled, and many were the deeds of robbery-aye, of actual murder—which they had committed, and hitherto with impunity. At length, however, Springall Jack's luck deserted him; he was taken, and, as a natural consequence of his crimes, he was sentenced to death. (To be continued.)` WE EIGH the anchor! Off we go! Weigh the anchor! Off we go! Sweethearts, ay, and bonny wives, Wave your hands, lads! wave away! Smile, and never breathe a sigh, Men must sail across the sea, Up then, lads, with cheery heart, GOING FOR A SOLDIER. (Continued from page 11.) 6 CHAPTER III. APTAIN GRAY was walking down the High Street of the town, one day later in the spring, when he caught sight of Tom, in his Sunday clothes, peering in at the barrack-gates. 6 Well, my lad!' he said cheerily, so the soldiers that came home are going back again, and we are going with them.' 'Yes, sir, I know it,' answered Tom; and I was trying to find you, to ask you if I might go too. I'm free to go, sir; for I've only a stepfather, and nobody wants me particular. And Farmer Adams has such strange ways with him, that I thought it would be better to give up my place before it came to a falling out. And-and-added Tom, smiling and stammering, 'I should like to help the little boys, sir.' 'Come in with me,' said the Captain, in his kind, grave voice, turning into the barracks and leading the way to his own rooms; I want to hear how much you've thought about it, my lad, before I let you become a soldier! And so he had Tom into his own room, and questioned him very closely and on all points, till he satisfied himself that there was no good reason why he shouldn't be a soldier. And then he said, after thinking a little, Go home now, and come to the barracks again at nine o'clock to-morrow morning, Tom. Can you?' Yes, sir, certainly; and thank you,' answered Tom. And then he trotted back to his native village. When he was gone, Captain Gray went out into the town to find the Squire, who had come up on business earlier in the day. The old gentleman, dressed in a blue coat and yellow waistcoat, as was the fashion in those times, was not far off. Tom,' he said, 'you don't know much of the world yet, my man, and I think you ought not to be in too great a hurry on a matter like this. Now, would you like to go out with me as my servant? I will give you good wages and take care of you; and you will see a little soldiering that way. And if you wish to put on the red coat after we get to Lisbon, you will still have the chance to do so. Do you like that plan, Tom?' What could Tom say? He grew all at once very weak in his limbs, and very red in the face, and very watery about the eyes, and stammered out, Oh, sir, wouldn't I, just!' And so it was settled. Not long after, before the orchards were in blossom, and before the primroses, and violets, and lilies of the valley, were found in the Squire's woods, the ship which bore Captain Gray and the soldiers under his command sailed away from England. Tom had never seen the sea till now, and he was never tired of looking at it, and listening to the rush, and ripple, and splash against the ship's sides, and thinking how easily they might all be swallowed up. The sea didn't make him afraid; but, somehow, it always made him think about death and the other world, and about many solemn things that he did not think of at other times. Often he saw his master standing and looking over the water, too, with those keen, kind eyes of his, and Tom fancied from his look that it had the same effect upon him. Captain Gray and Tom got on very well together. Tom was rather stupid and awkward at first, but he was quick and willing, and set himself earnestly to learn his new duties. Captain Gray was very strict, but also very kind; and he was a true friend and a good master, in the best sense of the words. When they sighted the blue hills of Portugal he said to Tom, 'Well, my lad, what do you think of soldiering now?' Tom replied that he had rather altered his mind about it since he had been on board with the soldiers. So Tom was made a soldier. They landed on the quay at Lisbon towards the end of April, just at the time when Sir Arthur Wellesley went back, and the work of the war was about to begin afresh. Tom thought Lisbon was a very splendid city, though not over-clean. And it was curious to see the gentlemen's orchards full of orange and lemon-trees, and figs, and almonds, growing just as the apples and pears did at home. Tom was allowed to enlist in his master's regiment directly they landed; and being a fine, straight young fellow, by no means stupid, and full of anxiety to do his best, he soon learnt his duties, and did credit to those who trained him. When he was not on duty, he was generally in waiting on Captain Gray; and this he liked much better than being with the men, who were fond of drink, I am sorry to say, and seemed anxious to lure him into mischief. Captain Gray lodged in a large house with some other officers, but had a nice sittingroom of his own. On the walls of this room, along with swords, and belts, and pistols, a little bookshelf, and a few portraits of his friends, he had hung up a great map of Spain and Portugal, and some plans of sieges. And sometimes, when he was alone and not busy, and Tom had done his work, he would take those maps down, and explain to him where and how the army would be likely to fight, and the rules and manner of war. Tom was greatly interested in these little lectures. He had no idea that war was such a wonderful and clever thing, and was surprised to find how much the officers had to think of. And then, when the maps were hung up again, his master would give him another sort of lesson as to a soldier's business. (To be continued.) No! a man strides forth to the mountain, Should prove his lonely grave! Its form wraps his cloak around; There is grief in that Alpine village For the two who are lost to sight; And the villagers keenly seek them. Through the whole of the day and night. Well done for at last they find them, And sweet 'tis those lives to save,- A widow'd mother clasps her hands, And all around rejoice To hear the mother's thankful words— |