Ill and feeble, now the usurper

Felt his death was hastening on, And would fain bequeath his kingdom And his title to his son.

Calling then a trusty servant,
He to him a letter gave—
"Take my fleetest horse, and hasten,
If my life you wish to save.

"Hie thee to the brave Alcayde

Of my castle by the sea;
To his hands give thou this letter,

And his physician bring to me."

Then in haste his servant mounted,
And for many a league he rode,
Till he reached the court and castle
Where the captive prince abode.

There sat Yousuf and the Alcayde
In the castle, playing chess.*
"What is this?" the keeper muttered.
"Some bad tidings, as I guess."

Pale he grew, and sat and trembled,
While his eye the letter scanned;

And his voice was choked and speechless,
As he dropped it from his hand.

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15

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"Now what ails thee?" cried Prince Yousuf.

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"Doth the King demand my head?"

"Read it!" gasps the good Alcayde.

"Ah, my lord-would I were dead!"

Yousuf read: "When this shall reach you,
Slay my brother, and his head
Straightway by the bearer send me;
So I may be sure he's dead.”

"So" cried Yousuf. "This I looked for.

Now let us play out our game. I was losing you were winning When this ugly message came."

All confused, the poor Alcayde

Played his knights and bishops' wrong;
And the prince his moves corrected.
So in silence sat they long.

In his mind Prince Yousuf pondered,

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'Why this hasty message sent,

If my kind and thoughtful brother
Were not hastening to his end?

"Surely he is ill or dying.

And if I must lose my head,
My young nephew will succeed him
O'er Granada in my stead.

"Though my keeper still is friendly,
I must gain some hours' delay.
He is poor: the King may bribe him.
He may change ere close of day."

Then aloud: "Come, good Alcayde-
One more game before I die.
And be sure you make no blunders—

I may beat you yet. I'll try."

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10

15

20

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4*

In his lonely life the keeper

Dearly loved his game of chess:
Therefore needs he little urging,
Though sad thoughts his soul oppress.

For an hour or two they battled,
And the Alcayde gained amain ;'
For the prince, with restless glances,
Gazed beyond the windowpane.

Still the chessboard lay between them,
And the Alcayde played his best,
Took no note of gliding hours,
Till the sunset fired the west.

Yet he gained not, for Prince Yousuf
With a sudden checkmate sprang
Unforeseen-and that same moment-
Hark! was that a bugle rang?

Through the western windows gazing
Far across the dusty plain,

Yousuf saw the flash of lances--
And the bugle rang again.

And two knights appeared advancing
Like two eagles on the wing.
Allah Akbar! From Granada

Faces flushed with joy they bring.

The King is dead! Long live King Yousuf!
Long lost lord—our rightful king!

5

AMONG the earliest official records of Massachusetts, there is a memorandum of articles needed there and to be procured from England. The list includes beans, pease, vine planters, potatoes, hop roots, pewter bottles, brass ladles, spoons, and ministers. It is but just to add that in the original document the article here mentioned last stands first; even as in the seventeenth century, in New England, that article would certainly have stood first in any conceivable list of necessaries, for this world or the world to come. An old historian, in describing C the establishment of the colony of Plymouth, gives the true sequence in the two stages of the process when he says they "planted a church of Christ there and set up civil government."

In the year 1640 a company of excellent people re-15 solved to found a new town in Massachusetts, the town of Woburn; but before getting the town incorporated they took pains to build a meetinghouse and a parsonage, to choose a minister, and to fix the arrangements for his support. . . . During the first sixty years News England was a theocracy, and the ministers were in reality the chief officers of State. It was not a departure from their sphere for them to deal with politics; for everything pertaining to the State was included in the sphere of the Church. On occasion of an exciting popular election, in 1637, Mr. John Wilson, one of the

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pastors of Boston, climbed upon the bough of a tree, and from that high pulpit, with great authority, harangued the crowd upon their political duties. . . . To speak ill of ministers was a species of sedition. species of sedition. In 1636 a citizen of Boston was required to pay a fine of forty pounds and to make a public apology, for saying that all the ministers but three preached a covenant' of works.

The objects of so much public deference were not unaware of their authority; they seldom abused it; they never forgot it. If ever men, for real worth and great-10 ness, deserved such preeminence, they did; they had wisdom, great learning, great force of will, devout consecration, philanthropy, purity of life. For once in the history of the world, the sovereign places were filled by the sovereign men. They bore themselves with the air's of leadership; they had the port of philosophers, noblemen, and kings. The writings of our earliest times are full of reference to the majesty of their looks, the awe inspired by their presence, the grandeur and power of their words.

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Men like these, with such an ascendency as this over the public, could not come before the public too often, or stay there too long; and on two days in every seven they presented themselves in solemn state to the people, and challenged undivided attention. Their pulpits were erected far aloft, and as remote as possible from the congregation, typifying the awful distance and the eleva tion of the sacred office which there exercised its mightiest function. Below, among the pews, the people were arranged, not in families, but according to rank and age 30 and sex; the old men in one place, the old dames in another; young men and maidens prudently seated far apart; the boys having the luxury of the pulpit stairs and the gallery. Failure to attend church was not a