And every fire went out upon the hearth,
And not a meal was tasted in the town that day.
And still the tide was flowing in:

Her mother's voice yet sounding in her ear,
They turned young Margaret's face towards the sea,
Where something white was floating-something
White as the sea-mew that sits upon the wave;
But as she looked it sank; then showed again;
Then disappeared; and round the shore
And stake the tide stood ankle-deep.

Then Grierson

With cursing vowed that he would wait
No more, and to the stake the soldier led her
Down, and tied her hands; and round her
Slender waist too roughly cast the rope, for
Windram came and eased it while he whispered
In her ear, "Come take the test, and ye are free,"
And one cried, “Margaret, say but God save
The King!" God save the King of His great grace,"
She answered, but the oath she would not take.

And still the tide flowed in,
And drove the people back and silenced them.
The tide flowed in, and rising to her knees,
She sang the psalm, "To Thee I lift my soul;"
The tide flowed in, and rising to her waist,

To Thee, my God, I lift my soul," she sang.
The tide flowed in, and rising to her throat,
She sang no more, but lifted up her face,
And there was glory over all the sky-
And there was glory over all the sea--
A flood of glory,-and the lifted face
Swam in it till it bowed beneath the flood,
And Scotland's Maiden Martyr went to God.

THE RIFT OF THE ROCK.-ANNIE HERBERT.

In the rift of the rock He has covered my head, When the tempest was wild in the desolate land. Through a pathway uncertain my steps He has led, And I felt in the darkness the touch of His hand Leading on, leading over the slippery steep,

Where came but the echoing sound of the shock, And, clear through the sorrowful moan of the deep, The singing of birds in the rift of the rock.

In the rift of the rock He has sheltered my soul When at noonday the toilers grew faint in the heat;

Where the desert rolled far like a limitless scroll
Cool waters leaped up at the touch of His feet.
And the flowers that lay with pale lips to the sod
Bloom softly and fair from a holier stock;
Winged home by the winds to the mountains of God,
They bloom evermore in the rift of the rock.

In the rift of the rock Thou wilt cover me still,
When the glow of the sunset is low in the sky,
When the forms of the reapers are dim on the hill,
And the song dies away, and the end draweth nigh;
It will be but a dream of the ladder of light,

And heaven dawning near without terror or shock,
For the angels, descending by day and by night,
Will open a door through the rift of the rock.

THE VAUDOIS TEACHER.-JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Dr. Baird states, in his interesting and useful volume, entitled, "Protestantism in Italy, with sonie account of the Waldenses," that in the middle ages, under the humble garb of the itinerating merchant, the MISSIONARY was often concealed. The following lines, descriptive of this traffic as conducted by the Waldenses, were published in the (London) CHRISTIAN OBSERVER, a few years ago and are now given to the American public by Dr. Baird.

"Oh, lady fair, these silks of mine

Are beautiful and rare,

The richest web of the Indian loom
Which beauty's queen might wear.

And these pearls are pure and mild to behold,

And with radiant light they vie;

I have brought them with me a weary way;

Will my gentle lady buy?”

And the lady smiled on the worn old man,
Through the dark and clustering curls,
Which veiled her brow as she bent to view
His silks and glittering pearls;

And she placed their price in the old man's hand,

And lightly turned away;

But she paused at the wanderer's earnest call,

"My gentle lady, stay!"

"Oh, lady fair, I have yet a gem

Which a purer lustre flings

Than the diamond flash of the jeweled crown

On the lofty brow of kings;

A wonderful pearl of exceeding price,
Whose virtue shall not decay;

Whose light shall be as a spell to the,
And a blessing on thy way!"

The lady glanced at the mirroring steel
Where her form of grace was seen,

Where her eyes shone clear and her dark locks waved
Their clasping pearls between.

"Bring forth thy pearl of exceeding worth,

Thou traveler gray and old:

And name the price of thy precious gem,
And my pages shall count thy gold."

The cloud went off from the pilgrim's brow,
As a small and meagre book,
Unchased with gold or gem of cost,
From his folding robe he took.
“Here, lady fair, is the pearl of price;
May it prove as such to thee!
Nay, keep thy gold; I ask it not;
For the Word of God is free."

The hoary traveler went his way;
But the gift he left behind

Hath had its pure and perfect work

On that high-born maiden's mind;

And she hath turned from the pride of sin
To the lowliness of truth,

And given her human heart to God,
In its beautiful hour of youth.

And she hath left the gray old halls
Where an evil faith had power,

The courtly knights of her father's train,
And the maidens of her bower;

And she hath gone to the Vaudois vales,

By lordly feet untrod,

Where the poor and needy of earth are rich

In the perfect love of God.

JOSIAH ALLEN'S WIFE AT A. T. STEWART'S STORE.

MARIETTA HOLLEY.

The following sketch is from a work entitled "My Opinions and Betsey Bobbet's." In the preface the writer describes the circumstances under which the book was written; a deep voice kept saying to her "Josiah Allen's Wife, write a book; the great public wheel is rolling slowly on, drawing the female race into liberty, PUT YOUR SHOULDER-BLADES TO THE WHEEL." No wonder Josiah was frightened nearly out of his senses, when she spoke in a loud clear voice, “I WILL put my shoulder-blades to the wheel. I WILL write a book'

I had heard it was considerable of a store, but good land! it was bigger than all the shops of Jonesville put together, and two or three ten-acre lots, and a few meetin' housen.

But I wouldn't have acted skairt, if it had been as big as all Africa. I walked in as cool as a cowcumber. We sot down pretty nigh to the door and looked round a spell. Of all the sights of folks there was a comin' in all the time, and shinin' counters all down as fur as we could see, and slick lookin' fellers behind every one, and lots of boys runnin' round, that they called "Cash." I says to Betsey,

"What a large family of boys Mr. Cash'es folks have got, and they must some of 'em be twins, they seem to be about of a size."

I was jest thinkin' in a pityin' way of their mother, poor Mrs. Cash, and how many pantaloons she would have to mend in consequence of slidin' down hill, when Betsey says to me,

"Josiah Allen's wife, hadn't you better be purchasing your merchandise?" Says she, "I will set here and rest 'till you get through, and as deah Tuppah remarked, 'study hụman nature.'" She didn't have no book as I could see to study out of, but I didn't make no remarks. Betsey is a curious creature, anyway. I went up to the first counter-there was a real slick lookin' feller there, and I asked him in a cool tone, "If Mr. Stewart took eggs, and what they was a fetchen' now?"

He said, “ Mr. Stewart don't take eggs.”

66

Well," says I, "what does he give now for butter in the pail?"

He said, "Mr. Stewart don't take butter."

66

'Well," says I, in a dignified way, "it haint no matter, I only asked to see what they was a fetchen here. I haint got any with me, for I come on a tower." I then took a little roll out of my pocket, and undone 'em. It was a pair of socks and a pair of striped mittens. And I says to him in a

cool, calm way,

“How much is Mr. Stewart a payin' for socks and mittens now? I know they are kinder out of season now, but there haint no danger but what winter will come, if you only wait long enough."

He said, "We don't take 'em."

I felt disappointed, for I did want Alexander to have 'em, they was knit so good. I was jest thirkin' this over, when

he spoke up agin, and says he, " we don't take barter of no kind." I didn't know really what he meant, but I answered him in a blind way, “that it was jest as well as if they did, as fur as I was concerned, for we hadn't raised any barter that year, it didn't seem to be a good year for it," and then I continued on-" Mebby Mr. Stewart would take these socks and mittens for his own use." Says I, "Do you know whether Alexander is well off for socks and mittens or not?" The clerk said "he guessed Mr. Stewart wasn't sufferin for 'em ?"

"Well," says I in a dignified way, "you can do as you are a mind to about takin' 'em, but they are colored in a good indigo blue dye, they haint pusley color, and they are knit, on honor, just as I knit Josiah's."

"Who is Josiah ?" says the clerk.

Says I, a sort of blindly, "He is the husband of Josiah Allen's wife."

I wouldn't say right out, that I was Josiah Allen's wife, because I wanted them socks and mittens to stand on their own merits, or not at all. I wasn't goin' to have 'em go, jest because one of the first wimmen of the day knit 'em. Neither was I goin' to hang on, and tease him to take 'em. I never said another word about his buyin' 'em, only mentioned in a careless way, that "the heels was run." But he didn't seem to want 'em, and I jest folded 'em up, and in a cool way put 'em into my pocket. I then asked to look at his calicoes, for I was pretty near decided in my own mind to get a apron, for I wasn't goin' to have him think that all my property lay in that pair of socks and mittens. me where to go to see the calicoes, and there was another clerk behind that counter. I didn't like his looks a bit, he was real uppish lookin'. But I wasn't goin' to let him mistrust that I was put to my stumps a bit. I walked up agcollected lookin' as if I owned the whole caboodle of 'em, and. New York village, and Jonesville, and says I,

"I want to look at your calicoes."

He told

"What prints will you look at ?" says he, meanin' to put

on me.

Says I, "I don't want to look at no Prince," says I, "I had ruther see a free born American citizen than all the foreign