the banisters the instant I open the house door, and waving a welcome in mid-air with one ridiculously small paw. Being but mortal, I am naturally pleased with these tokens of esteem, but I do not, on that account, go about with arrogant brow, and boast of my intimacy with Agrippina. I should be laughed at, if I did, by everybody who is privileged to possess and appreciate a cat. As for curiosity, that vice which the Abbé Galiani held to be unknown to animals, but which the more astute Voltaire detected in every little dog that he saw peering out of the window of its master's coach, it is the ruling passion of the feline breast. A closet door left ajar, a box with half-closed lid, an open bureau drawer, these are the objects that fill a cat with the liveliest interest and delight. Agrippina watches the unfastening of a parcel, and tries to hasten matters by clutching at the string. When its contents are shown her, she examines them gravely, and then settles down to repose. The slightest noise disturbs and irritates her until she discovers its cause. If she hears a footstep in the hall, she runs out to see whose it is, and, like certain troublesome little people I have known, she dearly loves to go to the front door every time the bell is rung. From my window she surveys the street with tranquil scrutiny, and, if boys are playing below, she follows their games with a steady, scornful stare, very different from the wistful eagerness of a friendly dog, quivering to join in the sport. Sometimes the boys catch sight of her, and shout up rudely at her window; and I can never sufficiently admire Agrippina's conduct upon these trying occasions, the wellbred composure with which she affects neither to see nor to hear them, nor to be aware that there are such objectionable creatures as children in the world. Sometimes, too, the terrier that lives next door comes out to sun himself, and, beholding my cat sitting well out of reach, he dances madly up and down the pavement, barking with all his might, and rearing himself on his short hind legs, in a futile attempt to dislodge her. Then the spirit of evil enters Agrippina's little heart. The window is open, and she creeps to the extreme edge of the stone sill, stretches herself at full length, peers down smilingly at the frenzied dog, dangles one paw enticingly in the air, and exerts herself with quiet malice to drive him to desperation. Her sense of humor is awakened by his frantic efforts, and by her own absolute security; and not until he is spent with exertion, and lies panting and exhausted on the bricks, does she arch her graceful back, stretch her limbs lazily in the sun, and with one light bound spring from the window to my desk. - AGNES REPPLIER. THE BELLS OF SANTA YSABEL Sweet bells of Santa Ysabel, How blithely do you ring All in the early spring. Within your silver-throated chimes Of many a tear and many a prayer Brave bells of Santa Ysabel, What hands have fashioned you? What thoughts were welded in your breast, What dreams and fancies true? The gleaming silver of your mold Of one who scorned the toys of earth You sang but not for mirth, From out your silver-throated tones Mad warfare's din and carnage dire And peace was not the note you rang Dear bells of Santa Ysabel, No belfry now is yours, Where minaret or Gothic tower Or carven cross endures. Yours but a rude and lonely shrine Upon the Mesa wild, As humble as Judea's hut Where lay the Holy Child. . Yet, bells of Santa Ysabel, Far holier now you are Than when you rang the tocsin bold Upon the Mesa blue. One by one the sands are flowing, One by one thy duties wait thee, Let thy whole strength go to each, Let no future dreams elate thee, Learn thou first what these can teach. THE NUBIAN Richard surveyed the Nubian in silence as he stood before him, his looks bent upon the ground, his arms folded on his bosom, with the appearance of a black marble statue of the most exquisite workmanship, waiting life from the touch of a Prometheus. The King of England, who, as it was emphatically said of his successor, Henry the Eighth, loved to look upon a man, was well pleased with the thews, sinews, and symmetry of him whom he now surveyed, and questioned him in the lingua Franca, "Art thou a pagan?" The slave shook his head, and, raising his finger to his brow, crossed himself in token of his Christianity, then resumed his posture of motionless humility. "A Nubian Christian, doubtless," said Richard, "and mutilated of the organ of speech by these heathen dogs?" The mute again slowly shook his head, in token of negative, pointed with his forefinger to heaven, and then laid it upon his own lips. "I understand thee," said Richard; "thou dost suffer under the infliction of God, not by the cruelty of man. Canst thou clean an armor and belt, and buckle it in time of need?" The mute nodded, and, stepping toward the coat of mail, which hung with the shield and helmet of the |