THE GOLD AND SILVER SHIELD

IN the olden times a British prince set up a statue to the goddess of Victory, at a point where four roads met. In her right hand she held a spear, and her left rested upon a shield. The outside of this shield was of gold, and the inside of silver, and on each side was an inscription.

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It happened one day that two knightsblack armor, the other in white-arrived at the same time, but from opposite directions, at the statue. As neither of them had seen it before, they stopped to examine the beautiful workmanship and read the inscription.

"This golden shield," said the Black Knight, after examining it for some time," this golden shield—” "Golden shield!" cried the White Knight, who was as closely observing the other side; "why, if I have my eyes, it is silver."

"Eyes you have, but they see not," replied the Black Knight; "for if ever I saw a golden shield in my life, this is one."

"Oh, yes, it is so likely that any one would expose a golden shield on the public road!" said the White Knight, with a sarcastic smile. "For my part I wonder that even a silver one is not too strong a temptation for some people who pass this way."

The Black Knight could not bear the smile with which this was spoken, and the dispute grew so warm that it ended in a challenge.

The knights turned their horses, and rode back to have sufficient space; then fixing their lances in their rests, they charged at each other with the greatest fury. The shock was so violent, and the blows on each side were so heavy, that they both fell to the ground, bleeding and stunned.

In this condition a good Druid who was traveling that way found them. He was a skillful physician, and had with him a balsam of wonderful healing power. This he applied to their wounds, and when the knights had recovered their senses he began to inquire into the cause of their quarrel.

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Why, this man," cried the Black Knight, "will have it that yonder shield is silver!"

"And he will have it that it is gold!" cried the White Knight.

"Ah," said the Druid, with a sigh, "you are both in the right, and both in the wrong. If either of you had taken time to look at both sides of the shield all this passion and bloodshed might have been avoided.

"However, there is a very good lesson to be learned from the evils that have befallen you. In the future, never enter into any dispute till you have fairly considered both sides of the question."

THE WOUNDED CURLEW

By yonder sandy cove where, every day,
The tide flows in and out,

A lonely bird in sober brown and gray
Limps patiently about;

And round the basin's edge, o'er stones and sand,

And many a fringing weed,

He steals, or on the rocky ledge doth stand,
Crying, with none to heed.

But sometimes from the distance he can hear
His comrades' swift reply;

Sometimes the air rings with their music clear,
Sounding from sea and sky.

And then, oh, then, his tender voice, so sweet,
Is shaken with his pain,

For broken are his pinions strong and fleet,
Never to soar again.

Wounded and lame and languishing he lives,
Once glad and blithe and free,

And in prison limits frets and strives

His ancient self to be.

The little sandpipers about him play,
The shining waves they skim,

Or round his feet they seek their food and stay
As if to comfort him.

My pity cannot help him, though his plaint

Brings tears of wistfulness;

Still must he grieve and mourn, forlorn and faint,
None may his wrong redress.

Oh, bright-eyed boy! was there no better way
A moment's joy to gain

Than to make sorrow that must mar the day
With such despairing pain?

Oh, children! drop the gun, the cruel stone!
Oh, listen to my words,

And hear with me the wounded curlew moan
Have mercy on the birds!

- CELIA THAXTER.

THE TAXGATHERER

"AND pray, who are you?"
Said the violet blue

To the Bee, with surprise

At his wonderful size,

In her eyeglass of dew.

"I, madam," quoth he,
"Am a publican Bee,
Collecting the tax
Of honey and wax.
you nothing for me?”

Have

-JOHN B. TABB.