"As the sweet apple blushes on the end of the bough, the very end
of the bough which the gatherers overlooked--nay, overlooked not,
but could not reach."

The Ode to Aphrodite and the fragment to Anaktoria are too often found
in translations to be quoted here. Indeed, it is of but little use to
quote; for Sappho can be known only in her own language and by those who
will devote time to these inestimable fragments. Their beauty grows upon
us as we read; we catch in one the echo of a single tone, so sweet that
it needs no harmony; and again a few stray chords that haunt the ear and
fill us with an exquisite dissatisfaction; and yet again a grave and
stately measure such as her rebuke to Alkæus--

"Had thy desire been for what was good or noble and had not thy
tongue framed some evil speech, shame had not filled thine eyes--"

MARY GREY.




THE SILENT CHIMES.

RINGING AT MIDDAY.


It was an animated scene; and one you only find in England. The stubble
of the cornfields looked pale and bleak in the departing autumn, the
wind was shaking down the withered leaves from the trees, whose thinning
branches told unmistakably of the rapidly-advancing winter. But the day