So with his gift of life, the Bedouin slept
That night untroubled; but when dawn broke through
The purple East, and o'er his eyelids crept
The long, thin finger of the light, he drew
A heavy breath and woke. Above him shone
A lifted dagger—"Yea, he gave thee life,
But I give death!" came in fierce undertone,
And Ackbar died. It was dead Noumid's wife.
The New Year Ledger.
BY AMELIA E. BARR.
I said one year ago,
"I wonder, if I truly kept
A list of days when life burnt low,
Of days I smiled and days I wept,
If good or bad would highest mount
When I made up the year's account?"
I took a ledger fair and fine,
"And now," I said, "when days are glad,
I'll write with bright red ink the line,
And write with black when they are bad,
So that they'll stand before my sight
As clear apart as day and night.
"I will not heed the changing skies,
Nor if it shine nor if it rain;
But if there comes some sweet surprise,
Or friendship, love or honest gain,
Why, then it shall be understood
That day is written down as good.
"Or if to anyone I love
A blessing meets them on the way,
That will to me a pleasure prove:
So it shall be a happy day;
And if some day, I've cause to dread
Pass harmless by, I'll write it red.
"When hands and brain stand labor's test,
And I can do the thing I would,
Those days when I am at my best
Shall all be traced as very good.
And in 'red letter,' too, I'll write
Those rare, strong hours when right is might.