Then she smiled a cheerful answer ere she With a murmured prayer, a shudder and a

spoke a single word,

And the tone of her replying was as sweet

as song of bird.

sob of anguish wild,

Back he darted through the forest, calling on his wife and child;

clearings far and near,

"No," she said; "I'll take the baby and go Soon the scattered settlers gathered from the stay with Annie Brown: You must meet us there, dear Robert, ere And the solemn woods resounded with their the sun has quite gone down."

voices rising clear.

Thus they parted. Strong and sturdy, all Torches flared and fires were kindled, and day long he labored on, the horn's long peal rang out,

Spading up the fertile acres from the stub- While the startled echoes answered to the born forest won;

hardy woodmen's shout;

But in vain their sad endeavor, night by Morning came, and with the sunbeams hope night and day by day, and courage rose once more: For no sign nor token found they of the child Surely ere another nightfall her long wan

or Margery Grey.

Woe, woe for pretty Margery! With her baby on her arm

On her homeward way she started, fearing nothing that could harm;

derings would be o'er;

So she soothed the wailing baby, and when faint from want of food

Ate the wintergreens and acorns that she found within the wood.

With a lip and brow untroubled and a heart Oh, the days so long and dreary! Oh, the nights more dreary still!

in utter rest

Through the dim woods she went singing to More than once she heard the sounding of the darling at her breast.

But, in sudden terror pausing, gazed she round in blank dismay:

Where were all the white-scarred hemlocks pointing out the lonely way?

the horn from hill to hill; More than once a smouldering fire in some sheltered nook she found,

And she knew her husband's footprints close beside it on the ground.

God of mercies! She had wandered from Dawned the fourth relentless morning, and

the pathway; not a tree,

the sun's unpitying eye

Giving mute but kindly warning, could her Looked upon the haggard mother-looked

straining vision see.

Twilight deepened into darkness and the stars came out on high;

All was silent in the forest save the owl's low boding cry;

to see the baby die;

All day long its plaintive moanings wrung the heart of Margery Grey,

All night long her bosom cradled it, a pallid thing of clay.

Round about her in the midnight stealthy Three days more she bore it with her on her rough and toilsome way,

shadows softly crept,

And the babe upon her bosom closed its Till across its marble beauty stole the plaguetimid eyes and slept.

Hark! a shout! and in the distance she could see a torch's gleam,

But, alas! she could not reach it, and it vanished like a dream;

spot of decay;

Then she knew that she must leave it in the wilderness to sleep,

Where the prowling wild beasts only watch above its grave should keep.

Then another shout-another; but she Dumb with grief she sat beside it. Ah! shrieked and sobbed in vain,

how long she never knew!

Rushing wildly toward the presence she Were the tales her mother taught her of the could never, never gain. dear All-Father true,