Currant bushes, black and red, Have at them and waltz around. Fly my love, come fly chi, chi! Whoop, like clowns we'll tumble, ho! Now we'll snatch a moment's rest Through the Springtide, bright and gay, Come my dearest dearie, O, Round the garden we shall go, 'Tis the Springtime, heigh, high, ho, Chir-up, chir-up, cheery O! E. O'L. BIRD LYRICS I. THE SPARROW'S HYMN. "Pause where apart the fallen sparrow lies, For there the pity of a Father's eyes Give us this day our daily bread : The Father hears and grants our prayer, In hedgerow, field, or beaten track II.--A BLACK PIPER. Who sings so early, Who pipes so rarely At peep of day, Thrilling the dew-drop Ha! merle, my brother Thou, and no other, Couldst pipe so gay: Cease, ere for ever With that keen lay My heart thou stealest, Bright ebon fay. MICHAEL J. WATSON, S.J. A SILVER SHRINE By CONSTANCE E. BISHOP, Author of "The Seventh Wave and other Soul Stories." CHAPTER XI. What a comfort it was to be once more in the good graces of master, missus, and little Juli: to be once more on friendly terms with my fellow-servants. A new cook-matey appeared upon the scene, a lad whom Father Adrian highly recommended. The youth was a Catholic named Joseph, whountil quite recently-had been a heathen, same as myself. I made a companion of the boy, and we had frequent interesting talks together upon the hill-side beneath the Casuarina trees; yet I never confided in him about the locket which I now wore fearlessly, though hidden, of course, beneath my jacket. Daily I prayed to my dear imprisoned Friend for light and guidance: begging that I might some day understand a little of those solemn and sacred mysteries Joseph spoke about with an awed reticence when I besought him to do so. He was a devout boy, and his reserve greatly and favourably impressed me. Yet, although this was a happy time, trouble stirred within me. I fully realised that, as I had purloined my treasure, I had no right to keep it; and yet I could not bear the thought of giving it to another. Whenever I saw Father Adrian who was a frequent visitor at our bungalow-I suffered for then my Friend would seem to plead with me, begging me to give Him to the holy man. I could almost feel Him beating upon the metal case which held Him captive imploring to be let out. I imagined that my Prisoner felt like a caged bird, and longed to be set free. Perhaps His destiny was at yet unfulfilled; maybe He longed to be at work, and fretted because His labour of love was rendered impossible by His captivity. Alas! how covetous and obdurate I was. Then, again, I often wondered whether Father Adrian guessed my secret; knew by some strange insight that I kept one of his holy mysteries about me. Sometimes I would catch his piercing blue eyes fixed upon me as though he suspected something, and longed to probe and penetrate the hidden depths of my troubled heart. How often I shrank and quailed beneath the subtle torture of his calm, enquiring gaze. Once or twice he spoke about Joseph, and asked me whether I would not like to come to the catechumen's class. I could only shake my head and grin a shy refusal. Dearly as I should have liked to come, I was too sorely afraid to do so. Alas-poor ignorant, ungrateful child-had I but known it, I did but lose my Friend in keeping Him; for had I but confessed all and given the locket to the good monk, I should indeed have gained Him. Had I only understood things better, I should have realized that I was infinitely separated from the Beloved, although He reposed upon my bosom. I thought I possessed my Treasure: it was in truth far, far beyond my reach. One morning ayah called: "Come along Krishna and amuse missie! Our lady is very sick, and I must stop with her; and stay a moment chokra-tell peon to run quick for Dr. Marjoribanks: mistress is greatly fevered, and master is afraid." I did as I was bidden; then went upstairs to have a game with little Juli. She was upon the wide, upstair, balcony, with her toys: I was surprised to see her statue of the Sacred Heart among her dolls and bears. Seeing me glance at it, she said: “Ayah gave it me. I was a naughty girl this morning, but I promised to try and be very good again if only the Sacred Heart would come and help me. Look here, chokra, we'll stand It on this chair: that separates it from ordinary toys, and, up there, it can see me better. Now come along and build me a bungalow for Master Teddy Bear." Presently the physician arrived. He told ayah that mistress was only feverish-not really ill: she could get up if she liked; rest in the lounge upon the verandah and watch us children at our play. When she appeared we had built a brick house between us. It amused her to see it, but I thought she looked very, very ill. Poor little missus; she was never really strong: something or other generally ailed her. Ayah sat cross-legged on the matting beside her lady's chair, and sewed. The tatties were down, for the day was hot, but every now and again a fragrant breeze was wafted across us from the flowering trees outside. The Casuarinas sighed I loved their plaintive aërial melody. A crowd of crows chattered angrily in a big jack-tree: their cries worried the mistress: "Oh; what a dreadful clamour!" she exclaimed, "why are they so noisy, ayah?" "One stole a chicken to-day," replied the woman, "Martin was plenty angry! However he caught the robber; corded its claws and tied it to a post. Its friends are sympathizing with the rogue: hence the big row, ma'am. They will thus learn not to steal." Our lady smiled. "Martin is a clever man," said she. "A very cunning man," agreed ayah, and gave a contemptuous, half-angry sniff. "His sagacity seems to put you out," went on missus. "I am sure you have a story to relate: tell it me at once. My head aches; my eyes are so weary that I cannot read. I will close them, and you shall talk quietly and fan me." The servant laid down her embroidery, and, taking up a wide palm fan, gently stirred the atmosphere with a soothing, quiet action. 66 Ma'am," she said, "some years ago I had charge of little Harry Jackson whose mother died. Dr. Jackson commissioned me to take the child home to England. I did so, spent six months there, and managed to save forty rupees: the remainder of my pay I sent to Martin, who had stayed behind in Gobilamal with Dr. Jackson. When I rejoined him there, he asked me what cash I had stored by. I told |