The king was deeply moved by this sudden and unexpected occurrence, and taking the rose with one hand while he uncovered his head with the other

"We thank you heartily," he said, "for this testimony of your good-will towards us, and if it should please GOD to grant your petition, we will not forget this your kindness towards us in the hour of our adversity."

The people gazed with deep interest upon the scene before them. The king uncovered, with all his long curling hair mingling with his horse's mane, as he stooped to address the beautiful girl kneeling at his stirrup, the refined majesty of his face, which had once worn a look of pride almost amounting to disdain, was now, since his troubles had come upon him, softened by an expression of patient dignity and resignation. There was also a moisture in his eye as he beheld the lovely girl who, overwrought by excitement and the unlooked-for delight of being thus addressed, could not restrain her tears of joy. The people raised a shout of "Long live King Charles, we will save him from his enemies!" and the enthusiasm increasing, hats were thrown up, handkerchiefs waved, and a succession of cheers rent the air.

The king's face brightened with a ray of hope, the gentlemen of his Court looked overjoyed, and Colonel Hammond, who with Colonel Baskett of Cowes Castle brought up the rear, exchanged uneasy and apprehensive glances.

The king rode away amid universal acclamation, and the people dispersed to their homes. Frances, for it was no other than she who had been the heroine of the day, curtseyed farewell to the king, smiling at him through her tears, and her brothers, after lavishing many caresses upon her for the modest grace with which she had played her part, conducted her home.

OUR MARTYR KING.

THOUGHTS OF AN OLD ROYALIST OVER THE DEAD BODY OF CHARLES I.

AND thus I see thee for the last sad time,

My king, my king!

Thy regal head

Low in the dust, severed, discrowned and dead;
The death dew's heavy on thy noble brow,

So calm and peaceful now,
Under the seal of GOD.

Ah, well I mind thee in the days gone by,
The "Baby Charles" of long ago,
Light of a doting father's eye,

The darling of the realm and justly so.
Methinks I see thee now, a princely boy,
Spurring thy palfrey o'er the plain,
Thy earnest eyes alight with joy

And mine the hand upon thy bridle-rein.
'Twas I who trained thee in each manly sport

To check the fiery steed, to wield

The sword. Ah, me! I little thought

"Twould all be needed on the battle-field!

With pride I saw thee grow and bloom apace,

Till from the tender bud, thy childhood's fragile grace, Blossomed a stately man, the noblest of his race,

So good and beautiful,

And all for this :—

My God, that fatal day!

Ever before mine eyes, in vast array,
A sea of upturned faces heaves and swells;
All with the same expression, strangely awed,
Caught from the sight above, yet diverse each,
Lit by the thought within. Like some wild reach
Of storm-swept water, 'neath a troubled moon,
Where every wave reflects the trembling gleam,
Yet none alike. And as some sea-girt rock
Beset with leaping billows, bears the shock
Unmoved; so didst thou stand, so strangely calm,
To meet thy death. Whence came that fearless look,
That brow serene? Saw'st thou indeed, my king,
Bright angels waiting round on snowy wing,
To bear thy soul above? That tender soul,
So sorely tried. Saw'st thou the Martyr's crown
Hanging unveiled before thy steadfast eye,
Reserved for thee in those bright realms on high,
After the pain? This must have been, so calm,
So all unmoved thou stoop'dst thy kingly head
To die. There was an awful hush, a long
Strange shuddering breath rose from the throng,
And thou wast gone

Would I had died for thee,

My king, my king! Thee whom I loved so well,

Whose very faults rose from a gentle heart
Too tender for thy time,-the stormy part
Thou hadst to play. To see thee thus, my king,
I could curse the traitors who have done this thing,
But that I call to mind thy last command,
"Remember," and the words die on my lips.
Only I pray, that when my old grey head,

And broken heart, are numbered with the dead,
I may behold thee in the Land of Light,
Arrayed in snowy robes of radiant white,
As at thy crowning; the Martyr's garland
On thy saintly brow, by sorrow glorified:
And kneel with thee before the throne of God,
And see thee enter on thy great reward
So nobly won.

A. C.

AT HOME WITH THE BLACK-FELLOWS.

THE Aborigines of Australia are the worst abused race of men in the world. Dozens of writers have had their say about them, and each author, without exception, has shown great ignorance on the subject, having generally penned his articles without acquainting himself personally with the race he has vilified. One well-known writer, a sort of "Through Australia in a Fortnight" man, says as follows: “The blacks of Australia are, with the exception of Bosjesmen, the lowest and most irreclaimable of the native tribes with which we are acquainted." Another writes, that "the Australian native is a mere creature of instinct, but one remove above the brutes ;" and a third gives it as his opinion that "the Aborigines of Australia are a most degraded and ignorant race, as untameable as the hyena and endowed with a peculiar facility for copying the white man's vices, though utterly incapable of comprehending his virtues."

After many years' residence in Australia, and an almost daily intercourse with the native population in different parts of that great Island Continent, I cannot but smile when I read such passages as these, which I am sorry to say are generally read and accepted as

truisms.

The native Australian is certainly not to be compared to the Red Indian or the Maori, but he is far superior in intellect to many tribes

of African blacks and to some of the South Sea Islanders, and there are many traits in his character that would be very commendable if possessed by Europeans. There can be no doubt that intercourse with the whites has done the poor untutored children of the soil more harm than good, and the "fire water" of civilization has been as much their bane as it was the red man's of North America.

With respect to cruelty the Australian figures far more creditably than any other savage race in the world, and although early voyagers have said much about the ferocity of the Aboriginals, they have never produced an atom of proof to show that they ever attacked the white man without provocation first received, and there is no record of their ever having tortured their captives as other savage nations have been in the habit of doing. The Australian native is, I am convinced from my own personal experience, not cruel, but on the contrary is naturally possessed of a kind heart, and cannot bear to see even a dumb animal ill used. I am aware that many bloody murders have been committed by Aboriginals on Europeans, but I have never known one perpetrated except as an act of retaliation for some still greater outrage committed on their own people by the whites. The European is too apt to make one law for himself and another for a subjugated race. Thus he thinks it quite proper to shoot down a native or two for cattle or sheep-stealing, even while the poor savage does not know that he is committing a crime; but if the white man injures his child, or beats his wife, and the black in his indignation throws a waddy or a spear at the head of the wrongdoer, even though it does not take effect, yet he and his tribe are hunted to the death, and their blood spilt like water. Twenty years ago dozens of such cases occurred in Victoria and New South Wales, more recently I have known many such instances in Queensland, one even as late as 1867.

I have long entertained a deep conviction of the wrongs which have been inflicted on these people. We have stolen from them their land, driven them from their hunting-grounds, and while thousands of us are making fortunes out of that very land, for which we have never paid a cent, and which the black-fellow naturally looks upon as his own, we punish him with death if he appropriates to himself a single sheep fattening thereon.

The English reader may think that this is never done, but, alas, it is, for a native was shot down for this very offence in South Australia in the year 1866.

How can the black know that he is doing wrong? One day he sees the white man chasing and killing his kangaroos with impunity, his best article of food: so he argues, why may he not do the same with the white man's sheep? Very likely he sees too that the white man has twenty times the number of sheep that he can possibly want for food, whereas his own kangaroos are few in number and difficult to catch, and he and his tribe are hungry. Under such circumstances it is not a crime, nay, it is but a natural instinct to take a sheep; but though the black man's spear and boomerang were idle when the white man stole his kangaroo, the white Christian's rifle or revolver is not idle when one of his myriad sheep is taken as quit rent by the original lord of

the soil.

Let all this pass however, I have only stated these things to defend the Australian from the false charges of cruelty so often brought against him. If he did not sometimes retaliate he would be no son of Adam.

Now we will glance at the Australian aboriginal's intellectual attainments, his language, (spoken and written,) his dress, habits, manners, education, religion, and general observances.

The language of some of the native tribes of Australia is very beautiful, being quite as soft and musical as the Italian. The native names of some of the towns, rivers, and districts will show this, as, Wooloomooloo, Woollahra, Wollongong, Illawarra, Kiama, Kooroora, Yarra Yarra, Wanneroo, Narran, Culgoa, Jumberoona, &c. It will be observed that there are nearly as many vowels as consonants in their languages, hence they are well adapted for music; and some of the native women (lubras) sing their rude songs very sweetly.

The aborigines of Australia have also written languages, consisting of a great number of hieroglyphic characters, each one representing a distinct word, and sometimes even a complete sentence; bearing in these respects some affinity to the Chinese, though the characters are very dissimilar. By means of this language great events in their history are handed down from father to son for several generations, particular intelligence is transmitted from tribe to tribe, and names with the respective dates of births, deaths, and marriages are all duly recorded.

This written language they have ever studiously endeavoured to keep from the knowledge of the white possessors of the soil, and so