"Because he wouldn't go, and I was not going to stay there to be killed; that's why," answered his wife excitedly. "Wouldn't fiddlesticks!" he exclaimed, making for the garden, followed by the entire family.

"Get out of here, you thief!" he exclaimed as he came into the garden, and caught sight of the shaggy and highlyperfumed visitor.

The goat bit off another mouthful of the basket, and regarded him with a mischievous twinkle of his eye.

"You won't go, hey?" exclaimed Burdock, trying to kick a hole in the enemy's ribs. "I'll show you wheth-"

The sentence was left unfinished, as the goat just then dropped his head on Burdock's shirt-bosom; and before he could recover his equilibrium, he had been butted seven times in seven fresh spots, and was down on his knees, and crawling around in a very undignified manner, to the horror of the family, and the infinite glee of the eleven young Boblinks next door.

"Look out he don't hurt you!" screamed Mrs. Burdock as the goat sent him flying into a sand-pile.

When Burdock had got his bald head out of the sand, he was mud all over his clothes, and tried to catch the brute by the horns, but desisted after he had lost two front teeth, and been rolled in the mud.

"Don't make a living show of yourself before the neighbors!" advised his wife.

"Come in, pa, and let him be!" begged his daughter. "Golly, dad, look out! he is comin' agin!" shouted his son enthusiastically.

Mr. Burdock waxed profane, and swore three-story oaths in such rapid succession that his family held their breaths; and a pious old lady, who lived in a house in the rear, shut up her windows, and sent out the cook for a policeman or a missionary.

“Run for it, dad!” advised his son a moment later, when the goat's attention seemed to be turned away,

Burdock sprang to his feet, and followed his offspring's suggestion. He was legging it in superb style, and the chances of his reaching the house seemed excellent, when the fragrant brute suddenly clapped on more steam, gained

rapidly, and darting between his legs, capsized him into the ash-box.

His family dragged him inside, another candidate for rubbing with arnica and a blessed haven of rest.

The back of the house has been hermetically sealed; and Burdock now proposes extending an invitation to the militia regiments of Boston to come down and practice marksmanship off the roof; promising to furnish a live goat for a target, and a silver napkin-ring as the first prize.

SENTENCE OF DEATH ON THE HIGH SEAS.
ARTHUR MATTHISON.

Aboard o' the good ship Margaret Ann,
Nigh twenty-five year ago,

I sailed from here to fair Cadiz town,
While the wintry winds did blow.

A stiffer gale never swept the sea

Than we had the fourth week out

An' pretty well pickled I've been in brine,
An' pretty well blowed about-

But this wind, my hearties, blowed great guns,
Tore the mainmast off the deck;

'Twas a mercy, mates, as the stout old ship
Warn't sent to the bottom a wreck!

Hows'ever, we swum, but hard times we had
Afore that we reached the port;

For we'd been at sea three weeks too long,
An' provisions was running short.

But once on the shore, and safe from harm
In the sunny land of Spain,

Little we cared for the dangers past-
We was ready to brave 'em again!

But there, I'm a-veerin' away from my yarn-
'Bout ship-don't lose the right tack-
For 'twasn't in Spain as it happ'd, my lads,
But when we was coming back.

Sailed with us a lass from old Cadiz town,
In charge o' the second mate;

And in less than a week the mate and the lass
Was lovers, as sure as fate.

A finer young fellow ne'er stepped a plank,
Every man aboard was his friend;
A prettier wench ne'er loved a tar,
And-but wait till you hear the end.

We'd hired some sailors while we was in port,
Among 'em a Creole chap,

As might ha' been good for summat on land,
But at sea warn't worth a rap!

He kept as much out o' sight as he could
Till a thousand miles from the coast;
Then, one day, he meets her face to face,
An' she turns as white as a ghost.

His eyes blazed up, and he muttered low
In his lingo, fierce and fast;

But she turned and ran right straight to her love.
And her arms about him cast.

An' she told him slow, in her broken tongue,
How this Creole sought her hand;

But she wouldn't have had him-no, no, not she-
For all the riches of the land!

An' she, trembling, told how he swore revenge-
How he said that he'd have her life;

But the mate took her face in his big broad hands,
An', laughing, cried, "Hush, little wife!

"If the swab comes anear thee, my pretty dear,
I'll just break him across my knee;

And these arms, so gentle with you, my love,
Shall toss him slap into the sea!"

And the sneaky Creole, he slunk away
As the mate shook his brawny fist;

But his eye had a devilish glare as he went,
And some furious words he hissed!

*

*

*

*

*

Slow an' sure sailed the Margaret Ann-
The Creole his distance kept;

The mate never thought of the lubber at all,
And the lassie's terrors slept.

One moonlight night, 'bout the end of May,

On deck the two lovers sat;

And she laughed till she cried, as his hair she pulled,
Or his sunburnt cheeks she'd pat!

At last both her teasing hands he caught,
An' held 'em-the bail a kiss-

A leap! a gleam! with a quick, fierce blow!
And a yell, half shriek, half hiss!

And the Creole's sharp knife his blood has drunk, On the deck he falls in death;

And the curs'd blade's sheathed in as manly a breast As ever did draw life's breath.

Afore he could stir half a step from the spot

I grappled his coward throat;

An' if some o' the crew hadn't dragged me away,

I'd a strangled him like to a stoat.

He was ironed and tumbled below like a dog;
Poor Philip we sorrowful raised;

And his dear "little wife" was led gently away,
Heart-broken and pretty near crazed.

It's strange, lads, whenever grim death comes aboard,
The sharks somehow soon find it out;
Anyway, the next day a big hammer-head shark
Off our quarter was floating about.

At noon the bell tolled, the crew mustered on deck,
The slayer and slain was both there;

The captain comes aft, an' no dry eye looked on
While he read out the funeral prayer.

The Creole scowled yet on the dead, and fierce hate
Seemed his glistening eyes to distend;

He laughed as he glared on that low-stricken form, And-but wait till you hear the end!

The captain just then caught a glimpse of the shark, And some thought come into his head,

For his eye lit up with a terrible light,

And his white brow flushed all red!

And full on the Creole he turned his gaze

It made me shiver to look;

For I read an awful doom on his face,

As plain as if writ in a book.

"Bo'sun," said he, "bring a rope," and 'twas brought; The murderer laughed to see,

And bared his neck, as if for to say:

Flang quick! if so must be.

But his laughing stopped, and his face grew wild,

When they led him towards the dead;

For he guessed his dreadful fate-he too

Had seen that hammer-head!

And he crawled on the deck to the captain's feet,

With pitiful cry and groan;

But he knelt in vain, for the captain's face
Was hard and fixed as stone.

And back to back, limb fast to limb,
Was the dead and the living tied;
And never a man aboard o' the ship
For mercy upon him cried.

His wild death-shriek; I can hear it now-
Can yet see his look of woe,
As over the vessel's side they cast
The victim and his foe.

A heavy splash-a body swift
Darts forward through the sea!
A rending cry-from death like that
The Lord deliver me!

BABY.-GEORGE MACDONALD.

Where did you come from, baby dear?
Out of the everywhere into here.

Where did you get those eyes so blue?
Out of the sky as I came through.

What makes the light in them sparkle and spin?
Some of the starry spikes left in.

Where did you get that little tear?
I found it waiting when I got here.

What makes your forehead so smooth and high?
A soft hand stroked it as I went by.

What makes your cheek like a warm white rose?
I saw something better than any one knows.

Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss?
Three angels gave me at once a kiss.

Where did you get this pearly ear?
God spoke and it came out to hear.

Where did you get those arms and hands?
Love made itself into bonds and bands.

Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?
From the same box as the cherubs' wings.

How did they all just come to be you?
God thought about me, and so I grew.

But how did you come to us, you dear?
God thought about you, and so I am here.