,1 ‘ ~' ' ’ 152 _ OURfISLAND STORY"

l :" ' Or Bonshaw’s hills the far horizon swell: ' I hear the jocund sleigh bells silvery sound, i f , See the smooth runners glancing into the light - :5 And well known casements glowing red around. While the pale stars loop up the robe of night. Oh! would that wishes might my willing feet - . Speed to the strand and bridge the distance 0 er, . . And by one Cheerful hearth my vacant seat Give me but now, as oft 1n years before,— _. ' Then, as in years before, should Christmas prove ' - Though bright With mirth, yet brighter still .with love.

Remembrance of ”The Bar By Alberton” is shown in. theSe . lines written in Bois de Boulogne, Paris: -

While faint at eve, through Sylvan ways, -' ' The City’s gathered murmurs die,

And voiceful of historic days

'Her towers oppose the ‘pallid sky,+-

A fainter; strain, entrancing more,

In ‘memory’s mystic world, floats on,

The echoes of. the surges’ roar

About the Bar by Alberton. _

Oh! far away. Oh! far aWay— ' Though tones from'old Cathedral bells, ’7 | . Steal sweetly forth, give me to stray . 1a 2 , ' Where the dark wave resounding swells.

Against the. fir tree’s solemn gloom

l 1; ' . ' To'see days level fires grow’wan, And hear the billows sullen boom . , About the Bar by Alberton. _ ’ g ; Recalling faded days of yOre

1 1‘ I ' ' . When wide the unbroken forest lay

1 I l ' Primeval to the Northern Shore, .

And the lone Indian on his way . . p .

Heard the deep voice his sires had known, Or when his evening camp fires shone ' Caught the Atlantic’s ceaseless moan.