“Work! work like a fool, to the certain loss,
      Like myself, of your time and pain;
    The space is too wide to be bridged across,
      You but waste your strength in vain!”
    And Bruce for the moment forgot his grief,
    His soul now filled with the sure belief
    That, howsoever the issue went,
    For evil or good was the omen sent: 
        And come there shadow or come there shine,
        The spider is spinning his thread so fine.

    As a gambler watches the turning card
      On which his all is staked,—­
    As a mother waits for the hopeful word
      For which her soul has ached,—­
    It was thus Bruce watched, with every sense
    Centred alone in that look intense;
    All rigid he stood, with scattered breath—­
    Now white, now red, but as still as death: 
        Yet come there shadow or come there shine,
        The spider is spinning his thread so fine.

    Six several times the creature tried,
      When at the seventh, “See, see! 
    He has spanned it over!” the captive cried;
      “Lo! a bridge of hope to me;
    Thee, God, I thank, for this lesson here
    Has tutored my soul to PERSEVERE!”
    And it served him well, for erelong he wore
    In freedom the Scottish crown once more: 
        And come there shadow or come there shine,
        The spider is spinning his thread so fine.

JOHN BROUGHAM.

* * * * *

THE SPIDER AND STORK.

    Who taught the natives of the field and flood
    To shun their poison and to choose their food? 
    Prescient, the tides or tempests to withstand,
    Build on the wave, or arch beneath the sand? 
    Who made the spider parallels design
    Sure as De Moivre, without rule or line? 
    Who bid the stork Columbus-like explore
    Heavens not his own, and worlds unknown before? 
    WHO CALLS THE COUNCIL, STATES THE CERTAIN DAY,
    WHO FORMS THE PHALANX, AND WHO POINTS THE WAY?

POPE.

* * * * *

THE HOMESTEAD AT EVENING.—­EVANGELINE’S BEAUTIFUL HEIFER.

Now recommenced the reign of rest and affection and stillness. 
Day with its burden and heat had departed, and twilight descending
Brought back the evening star to the sky, and the herds to the
homestead. 
Pawing the ground they came, and resting their necks on each other,
And with their nostrils distended inhaling the freshness of evening. 
Foremost, bearing the bell, Evangeline’s beautiful heifer,
Proud of her snow-white hide, and the ribbon that waved from her
collar,
Quietly paced and slow, as if conscious of human affection. 
Then came the shepherd back with his bleating flocks from the seaside,
Where was their favorite pasture.  Behind them followed the watch-dog,
Patient, full of importance, and grand in the