That I wish the end were near.

And my birthdays come so swiftly
That I meet them grudgingly:
Would it be so were I longing
For the life that is to be?

Nay: the soul, though ever reaching
For that which is out of sight,
Yet soars with reluctant motion,
Since there is no backward flight.

CHARLOTTE F. BATES.




A NIGHT AT COCKHOOLET CASTLE.

I.


Cockhoolet was the name of the place: it was a farm of which the
Ormistons were and had been tenants for several generations. A father,
mother and five olive-branches made up the family. A healthy, happy,
united, thriving family they were, and as such much respected. There
were two sons and three daughters, the eldest of whom was Bessie,
the "Rose of Cockhoolet," as she was called; for that she had all the
beauty and sweetness of the rose was generally allowed, although
there were people who could not be made to see this--people who were