But friends and foes, in dumb surprise,
With parting lips and straining eyes,
Stood gazing where he sank;
And when above the surges

They saw his crest appear,

All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry,
And even the ranks of Tuscany
Could scarce forbear to cheer.

10. "Curse on him!" quoth false Sextus: "Will not the villain drown?

But for this stay, ere close of day

We should have sacked the town!" "Heaven help him!" quoth Lars Porsena, "And bring him safe to shore; For such a gallant feat of arms Was never seen before."

11. And now he feels the bottom;
Now on dry earth he stands;
Now round him throng the Fathers
Το press his gory hands;

And now, with shouts and clapping,
And noise of weeping loud,
He enters through the River-Gate,
Borne by the joyous crowd.

12. They gave him of the corn-land
That was of public right

As much as two strong oxen
Could plow from morn till night;
And they made a molten image,
And set it up on high,

And there it stands unto this day
To witness if I lie.

13. It stands in the Comitium,

Plain for all folk to see;
Horatius in his harness,
Halting upon one knee;
And underneath is written,
In letters all of gold,

How valiantly he kept the bridge
In the brave days of old.

14. And in the nights of winter,

When the cold north-winds blow,
And the long howling of the wolves
Is heard amidst the snow;
When round the lonely cottage
Roars loud the tempest's din,
And the good logs of Algidus
Roar louder yet within;

15. When the oldest cask is opened,
And the largest lamp is lit ;

When the chestnuts glow in the embers,
And the kid turns on the spit;
When young and old in circle

Around the firebrands close;
When the girls are weaving baskets,
And the lads are shaping bows;

16. When the good man mends his armor,
And trims his helmet's plume;
When the good wife's shuttle merrily
Goes flashing through the loom;

With weeping and with laughter
Still is the story told,

How well Horatius kept the bridge
In the brave days of old.

LESSON LIV.

A NIGHT IN MÉHA.

BY CHARLES WARREN STODDARD.

Charles Warren Stoddard was born in Rochester, N.Y., in 1845, and came to California with his parents when quite young. At an early age he displayed a talent for literary pursuits. In 1867 he published a volume of poems entitled Poems by Stoddard. He has traveled extensively in the South Seas, and as a result, has written The South Sea Idyls (1873). He is still traveling in foreign countries, and contributing to various periodicals. The following selection is from his South Sea Idyls.

S

(UNSET in the valley of Méha. The air full of floating particles, that twinkled like diamond-dust; the great green chasm at the head of the valley illuminated by one broad bar of light shot obliquely through it, tipped at the end with a shower of white rockets that fringed a waterfall, and a fragment of rainbow like a torn banner. That deep, shadowy ravine seemed, for a moment, some mystery about to be divulged; but the light faded too soon, and I never learned the truth of it.

2. The sea quieter than usual; very little sound save the rhythmical vibration of the air, that suggested flowing waters and quivering leaves; the lights shifted along the upper cliffs; a silver-white tropic-bird sailed from cloud to cloud, swiftly and noiselessly, like a shooting-star. A delicious moment, but a brief one; soon the sun was down, and the deepening shadows and gathering coolness set all the valley astir.

3. Camp-fires were kindled throughout the village; column after column of thin blue smoke ascended in waving spirals, separating at the top in leaf-shaped clouds. It was like the spiritual resurrection of some ancient palm-grove; and when the moon rose, a little later, flooding the Vale of Solitude with her vague light, the illusion was perfected; and a group of savages, scenting the savory progress of their supper, sat, hungry and talkative, under every ghostly palm.

4. Clear voices ascended in monotonous and weird recitative; they chanted a monody on the death of some loved one,

prompted, perhaps, by the funereal solemnity of the hour; or sang an ode to the moon-rise, the still-flowing river, or the valley of Méha, so solitary in one sense, though by no means alone in its loneliness.

5. Kahéle patronized me extensively. I was introduced to camp after camp, and in rapid succession repeated the experiences of a traveler who has much to answer for in the way of color, and the peculiar cut of his garments. I felt as though I was some natural curiosity, in charge of the robustious Kahéle, who waxed more and more officious every hour of his engagement; and his tongue ran riot as he descanted upon my characteristics, to the joy of the curious audiences we attracted.

6. Some hours must have passed before we thought of sleep. How could we think of it, when every soul was wide awake, and time alone seemed to pass us by unconsciously? But Kahéle finally led me to a chief's house, where, under coverlets of kapa, spiced with herbs, and in the midst of numerous members of the household, I was advised to compose my soul in peace, and patiently await daylight.

7. I did so, for the drowsy sense that best illustrates the end of a day's journey possessed me, and I was finally overcome by the low, monotonous drone of a language that I found about as intelligible as the cooing of the multitudinous pigeon. The boy sat near me, still descanting upon our late experiences, our possible future, and the thousand trivial occurrences that make the recollections of travel forever charming.

8. The familiar pipe, smoked at about the rate of three whiffs apiece, circulated freely, and kept the air mildly flavored with tobacco; and night, with all that pertains to it, bowed over me, as, in an unguarded moment, I surrendered to its narcotizing touch.

9. There was another valley in my sleep, like unto the one I had closed my eyes upon, and I saw it thronged with ancients. No white face had yet filled those savage and sen

suous hearts with a sense of disgust, which, I believe, all dark races feel when they first behold a bleached skin.

10. Again the breathless heralds announced the approach. of a king, and the multitudes gathered to receive him. I heard the beating of the tom-toms, and saw the dancers ambling and posing before his august majesty, who reclined in the midst of a retinue of obsequious retainers. The spearsmen hurled their spears, and the strong men swung their clubs; the stone-throwers threw skillfully, and the sweetest singers sang long mêles in praise of their royal guest.

11. A cry of fear rent the air as a stricken one fled toward the city of refuge; the priests passed by me in solemn procession, their robes spotted with sacrificial blood. War-canoes drew in from the sea, and death fell upon the valley. I heard the wail for the slaughtered, and saw the grim idols borne forth in the arms of the triumphant; then I awoke in the midst of that dream-pageant of savage and barbaric splendor.

12. It was still night; the sea was again moaning; the cool air of the mountain rustled in the long thatch at the doorway; a ripe bread-fruit fell to the earth with a low thud. I rose from my mat and looked about me. The room was nearly deserted. Some one lay swathed like a mummy in a dark corner of the lodge. A rush, strung full of oily kukui nuts, flamed in the center of the room, and a thread of black smoke climbed almost to the peak of the roof; but, falling in with a current of fresh air, it was spirited away in a moment.

13. I looked out of the low door. The hour was such a one as tinges the stoutest heart with superstition; the landscape was complete in two colors—a moist, transparent gray, and a thin, feathery silver, that seemed almost palpable to the touch.

14. Out on the slopes, near the stream, reclined groups of natives, chatting, singing, smoking, or silently regarding the moon. I passed them unnoticed. Dim paths led me through guava jungles, under orange groves, and beside clusters of jasmine, overpowering in their fragrance. Against the low