“Now, aunty, dear, that bothered me as much as any thing, how that stout old gentleman knew I was Irish. I never told him so, and I am as well dressed as any English maid can be; you would not know me, (though I was always so nice,) I am so improved; and yet he says, ‘Have you none of them in Ireland?’ and I answered quite proudly, ‘_No, sir; we’ve the rale thing there!_’ and that settled _him_. I saw he was ashamed of himself, and of all the goings on—creeping, creeping toward our holy church, and yet purtending to talk of its blindness; yet we ought to be content, for if they’re let to go on as they’re going, it’s asy told where they’ll stop; _for the time’s coming_, as I heard at Moorfields, where every thing was to my satisfaction, and I found the _rale_ priest at last, though not so fine a man as our own dear Father Joyce, the heavens be his bed! and may he and the holy saints keep sin and heart-sorrow from you, my darling aunt! you who watched over me with as much as a mother’s love. It’s the spring-time now, and I often dream of the Bohreens, and the wild-bird’s song, and then again I feel as if the whole shadow of the mountain was over me like a shroud; but it isn’t long that lasts—as the song says— “‘Hope will brighten days to come, And memory gild the past.’” ----- [10] Remember. [11] Sermon. [12] Silence. * * * * * A MOTHER’S PRAYER. BY MRS. MARY G. HORSFORD. I knelt beside a little bed, The curtains drew away, And ’mid the soft, white folds beheld Two rosy sleepers lay; The one had seen three summers smile, And lisped her evening prayer; The other, only one year’s shade Was on her flaxen hair. No sense of duties ill performed Weighed on each heaving breast, No weariness of work-day care Disturbed their tranquil rest: The stars to them, as yet, were in The reach of baby hand, Temptation, trial, grief, strange words They could not understand. But in the coming years I saw The turbulence of Life O’erwhelm this calm of innocence With melancholy strife. “From all the foes that lurk without, From feebleness within, What sov’reign guard from Heaven,” I asked, “Will strong beseeching win?” Then to my soul a vision came Illuming, cheering all, Of him who stood with shining front On Dothan’s ancient wall;[13] And while his servant’s heart grew faint, As he beheld with fear The Syrian host encompassing The city far and near. With lofty confidence to his Sad questionings replied— “Those armies are outnumbered far By legions at our side!” Then up from starry sphere to sphere Was borne the prophet’s prayer, “Unfold to his blind sight, oh, God! Thy glorious hosts and fair.”