'Tis wise, in summer-warmth, to look before, To the keen-nipping winter; it is good, In lifeful hours, to lay aside some store Of thought, to leaven the spirit's duller mood; To mould the sodded dyke, in sunny hour, Against the coming of the wasteful flood; Still tempering Life's extremes, that Wo no more May start abrupt in Joy's sweet neighborhood. If Day burst sudden from the bars of Night, Or with one plunge leaped down the sheer abyss, Painful alike were darkness and the light, Bearing fixed war through shifting victories; But sweet their bond, where peaceful twilight lingers, Weaving the rosy with the sable fingers. THE CRUISE OF THE RAKER. A TALE OF THE WAR OF 1812-15. BY HENRY A. CLARK. (_Continued from page 136._) CHAPTER V. _The Revenge._ The report of the pistol fired by Julia had also been heard upon the pirate brig. To Florette it gave assurance of the safety of the fair fugitive. The pirate sprang to his feet, forgetful of his wound, but fell back helpless upon the companion-way, and soon relapsed into his former thoughtful state, supposing the sound had come from the deck of the Raker, though it had seemed much too near and distinct to appear possible that such was the case. The escape of Julia was not discovered until the following morning. The wrath of the pirate was fearfully vindictive. Even Florette became alarmed when he fiercely accused her of some share in the disappearance of the captive girl. This she tremblingly denied, suggesting the opinion that Julia must have jumped overboard, in her despair, induced by the threats of the pirate. The loss of the boat was also noticed, but not connected with the escape of Julia, it being supposed that it had been carelessly fastened. As a very natural consequence of his anger, the pirate sought some person on whom he could vent its fury. "Call aft the other woman," shouted he, "unless she, too, has jumped overboard." A grim smile was interchanged between the men who heard this order. John's true sex had not been long kept concealed after he had reached the pirate brig, and he had nearly fallen a victim to the rage the unpleasant discovery excited in the men, but his ludicrous and abject expressions of terror, though they awoke no emotions of pity, yet excited the merriment of his captors, and turned their anger into laughter. A man's garments were thrown to him, in which he speedily equipped himself, being indeed in no slight degree relieved by the change. Since that time he had kept himself as much aloof as possible from the crew, anxiously and fearfully expectant of some sudden catastrophe, either that his brains would be blown out without affording him an opportunity to expostulate, or that he would be called upon to walk the plank. He was roused by a heavy hand laid upon his shoulder. "O dear, don't," cried John.