MY SHIP.
Mist on the shore, and dark on the sand,
The chilly gulls swept over my head,
When a stately ship drew near the land,—
Onward in silent grace she sped.
Lonely, I threw but a coward's glance
Upon the brave ship tall and free,
Joyfully dancing her mystic dance,
As if skies were blue and smooth the sea.
I breathed the forgotten odors of Spain,
Remembered my castles so far removed,
For they brought the distant faith again
That one who loves shall be beloved.
Then the goodly galleon suddenly
Dropped anchor close to the barren strand,
And various cargoes, all for me,
Laid on the bosom of my land.
O friend! her cargoes were thy love,
The stately ship thy presence fair;
Her pointed sails, like wings above,
Shall fill with praises and with prayer.
* * * * *
BETROTHAL BY PROXY: A ROMANCE OF GENEALOGY.
CHAPTER I.
Ye who listen with impatience to the Reports of Historical Societies and have hitherto neglected to subscribe to an Antiquarian Journal, ye who imagine that there can be no intelligent and practical reply to the cui bono? shake of the head which declines to supply the funds for a genealogical investigation, attend to the history of my adventure in Foxden.