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A WINTER DRIVE IN CANADA [DRAWN BY M. KLINKINHT.]

My Picture in the Coals.

FOR me there is a magic in the coals,

The red, red coals that glow upon the fire;

A kind of subtle sympathy with souls

That burn with high and unattained desire.

I sit to-night before the glowing grate.

And gaze into the coals with wistful eyes.

As though by some strange alchemy, my fate

Might from the burning anthracite arise.

I used to picture out my foolish dreams

Of things that should be some bright future day;

Alas, to-night from ont the fire gleams

Only a vision of that passed away.

And yet, and yet, the picture that I see

Is dearer than the future e'er can bring--

Burn, burn, O coals, and keep it long for me,

While o'er its beauties I am lingering.

A face, a sweet, sweet face set in a frame

Of yellow hair with just a flame-like glow;

And eyes so dark, so deep am I to blame

For yearning o'er this face I used to know?

The fire is out, the hour is late--so late

I must stop dreaming, lest another day

Shall find me trying still to read my fate

In ashes when my picture's burned away.

DORA DENNISON.

BROKEN VOWS.

I.

Down in the castle meadow,

Under the old gray wall,

They are walking in fair May weather,

In the light of the young spring's fall.

Clear sunshine above and around them,

Wild silver and gold at their feet;

Ah, Heaven! that grief should be lying

'Neath a surface so sweet.

II.

Down in the castle meadow,

Under the old grey wall,

She is walking in fair May weather,

Alone--in the young spring's fall.

She heeds not the sunshine above her,

She sees not the silver and gold;

Ah, Heaven! that vows can be broken--

That love can grow cold!

ADA LOUISE MARTIN.