189": 



THE AMEIIJCAN BEE KEEPER. 



209 



LOVE'S ROSARY. 



fiiH-eet names, the rosary of my evening prayw, 

 Told on my lips like kisses of good night 

 To friends wlio go a little from my sight, 



And some through distant years shine clear 

 and fair. 



So this dear burden that I daily bear 

 Nightly God taketh and doth loose me quite. 

 And soft I sink in slumbers pure and li_:ht 



With thoughts of human love and heavenly 

 care. 



■gut when I mark how into shadow slips 

 My manhood's prime and weep fast passing 

 friends, 

 ^nd heaven's riches making poor my lips. 



And think how in the dust love's labor ends, 

 Then, where the cluster of my hearthstone 



shone, 

 *'Bid me not live," I sigh, "till all be gone." 

 — G. E. Woodberry in Harper's Magazine. 



THE BRI POLICEMAN. 



The big policeman felt unusuallv 

 pleasant this inorniug iiotwichstaudiiig 

 the fact that a disagreeable raiu was 

 falling — mean spring rain, which had 

 mixed it.self up with a cold raiu in such 

 a manner that when it came dashirig 

 around the street corner it caused pro- 

 fane pedestrians to say words which 

 would look ill if printed, and the "oth- 

 er kind" to say "My goodness," or 

 something equally relieving to pent 

 up indignation. 



Looking down, the big policeman 

 eaw a little woman, attired in some 

 kind of gray stuff and with big pathetic 

 eyes, standing beside him, and somehow 

 she seemed frightened at the crowd, the 

 passing vehicles, the clanging street 

 car bells, and the constant passing of 

 the cars themselves. She was white 

 and shivering, and her garments, wet 

 through, clung about her in a hinder- 

 ing fashion, which kept her from rapid 

 movement, and as she stepped close be- 

 side the big policeman he felt a curious 

 desire to take her up, much as one 

 would take up a child, and carry her to 

 a place of safety. She hesitated a mo- 

 ment and then she attempted to go for- 

 ward, but, alas, whether the rain blind 

 «d her or she just then remembered that 

 she was in haste and must at any risk 

 go on her way, she attempted to cross 

 over the track just in front of a swiftly 



moving car. in vain did the gripraan 

 shout, in vain did the bell ring. The 

 little gray clad figure fluttered on and 

 the crowd just behind her, feeling that 

 a tragedy was about to be enacted, was 

 hushed into instant silence. The big 

 policeman also comprehended the aw- 

 ful danger of the woman and his teeth 

 came Icaether with a snap and his fine 

 eyes flashed as he sprang after her, his 

 hand outstretched in a frantic effort to 

 reach, grasp and pull her back. The car 

 was almost upon him, the noise of the 

 grinding wheels filled his ears, he knew, 

 as men know whose wits are ever on 

 the alert, that it was risking his life 

 for the life of a stranger, but a mighty 

 effort, the flinging of his body forward, 

 and the deed was done, the woman was 

 drawn out of the reach of the cruel 

 wheels; but the big policeman's left leg 

 gave the passengers in the car a sicken- 

 ing jar as the wheels passed over it and 

 the tragedy for the crowd had been fur- 

 nished. 



Nobody noticed the woman, who, un- 

 hurt, mingled with the crowd and went 

 her way, but had they done so they 

 would have seen her crying behind her 

 veil and every now and then clutching 

 her fingers together as if in mortal mis- 

 ery. And she was miserable, poor little 

 Marie Denton, who was only a dress- 

 maker's assistant and who had lost her 

 mother, her only known relative, only 

 a few Vi eeks before. She had cried so 

 much in the little room she called home 

 at night that sletpwent away xrom 

 her and she was so exhausted when 

 morning came that she could hardly eat 

 her n.eager breakfast, and it was late 

 when she started for the dov>-u town es- 

 tablishment where she was employed. 



It was this thought that impelled her 

 when she tried to cross the street and 

 which had resulted in such a disastrous 

 fashicL tcr the big policeman. Marie 

 remf niLtitd that his j;.a-jce had fallen 

 upon h; I kindly, and while she had 

 made no elfcrt to push her way to 

 where ready but tender hands were car- 

 ing for the brave fellow who had risked 

 his life to save hers, yet she registered 

 a vow in her heart that she would nev- 

 er rest until she had told him how 

 grieved she was at his hurt and how 

 much she appreciated his heroism. 



He might hate her for b(:i:g the 

 cause, but Marie was a brave little 



