Were it possible to reveal even a little of what this abdication means, and what it conceals, the effort of Margaret E. Jordan would reap a rich return for literary labors performed under trying circumstances. Our beautiful singer could not well refrain from writing about "Gethsemane." Her devotion and her love to our Suffering Lord must needs find its vent among the trees of Mount Olivet! Procure a copy of "Echoes from the Pines," and the sweet music and balsamic odor will be deliciously refreshing and grateful to every sense. P. McC. Musings from Foreign Poets. THE PEARL AND THE SONG. From the German of Ebert. The million-tinted pearl of ocean Lies shrined within its mortal shell, And sails the deep in wavy motion, Responsive to each tidal swell. These songs of mine that shell resemble Freighted with tears, in ebb and flow, Like to the shell they float and tremble On the wild ocean of my woe. THE MODERN MUSE. From the Italian of Leopardi. While still a youth and all aflame With fire poetic, I became A pupil of the Muses nine; One took my hand in kindly mood, And led me to the inner shrine-- The secret workshop, where apart, In silence and in solitude, They wrought the marvels of their art. The Muse then showed me, one by one, And in minute detail outlined The various tasks to each assigned; I listened, marvelling much the while; "Pray, Muse," I asked, "where is the file?" She answered lightly as in scorn, "The file is rusted and outworn, 'Tis used no more in prose or rhyme." "But why not mend it if 'tis broken?" Lightly again the words were spoken, "The fact is, friend, we have no time!" PRAYER OF THE POOR. From the French of Lamartine. O Thou who dost thine ear incline Unto the lowly sparrow's nest, And hear'st the sighs of flowers that pine For dews upon the mountain's crest! Divine Consoler of our woes! Thou dost the hidden hand perceive That on the poor a coin bestows To buy the bread by which they live. Thou givest, as Thou deemest best To mortals, wealth or poverty, That, springing from their union blest, Justice might live and charity. To know the hearts, be this Thy care, Who thus their kindly gifts dispense, That in the treasures they may share Of Thy all-bounteous providence. We know not those for whom we pray, They are beheld of Thee alone; Their right hand's gifts from day to day, Are ever to their left unknown. * * * * *