to every individual of the male gender and the Caucasian race, the line being drawn at Chinamen.  An American writer contests the acceptance of the term, in England as being too vague and uncertain for comprehension by foreigners, and suggests that some less conventional designation than those now in use should be found to indicate the idea.  To the moral sense it would be natural to suppose that character rather than calling would be the most important point in the consideration of the question; but it is not so.  In the four-oared race of gentlemen amateurs held last year at Agecroft in Lancashire the prize of silver plate was won by a crew taken from a club composed entirely of colliers, who had been allowed to row under protest, they not being acknowledged as “gentlemen amateurs.”  The race over and the prize won by the colliers, an investigation took place by the committee.  The result was unanimity of the vote against acceptance of the qualification of the winners.  Here, then, occurred the best illustration of the comprehension of the term by the moderns, for the “gentlemen,” deeming that money must be a salvo to pride in the bosom of all whose quality of gentleman remains unacknowledged, subscribed a handsome sum to be distributed amongst the disappointed crew.  But here, again, the proof was given of the vague uncertainty of the term, for the crew of colliers were gentlemen enough to refuse the proffered gift with scorn.

G. COLMACHE.

SPECIAL PLEADING.

  Time, bring back my lord to me: 
  Haste, haste!  Lov’st not good company? 
    Here’s but a heart-break sandy waste
    ’Twixt this and thee.  Why, killing haste
  Were best, dear Time, for thee, for thee!

  Oh, would that I might divine
  Thy name beyond the zodiac sign
    Wherefrom our times-to-come descend. 
    He called thee Sometime.  Change it, friend: 
  Now-time soundeth far more fine.

  Sweet Sometime, fly fast to me: 
  Poor Now-time sits in the Lonesome-tree
    And broods as gray as any dove,
    And calls, When wilt thou come, O Love? 
  And pleads across the waste to thee.

  Good Moment, that giv’st him me,
  Wast ever in love?  Maybe, maybe
    Thou’lt be this heavenly velvet time
    When Day and Night as rhyme and rhyme
  Set lip to lip dusk-modestly;

  Or haply some noon afar,
  —­O life’s top bud, mixt rose and star! 
    How ever can thine utmost sweet
    Be star-consummate, rose-complete,
  Till thy rich reds full opened are?

  Well, be it dusk-time or noon-time,
  I ask but one small, small boon, Time: 
    Come thou in night, come thou in day,
    I care not, I care not:  have thine own way,
  But only, but only, come soon, Time.

  SIDNEY LANIER.

THE ATONEMENT OF LEAM DUNDAS.