GILBERT’S JOURNEY.

After journey long and wearisome, he Reached the Crescent City and the home of Colonel Vail. The aged man now mellowed By weight of years, remorseful, mourning And alone, received him kindly, answered: “Her father’s name was Simon Blake, he was Murdered by a Mexican upon the Dock. The child, my grandchild’s name was Blake. The man who loved my daughter came and found her Dying. ’Twas he who took the child away, And they were lost at sea.” Gilbert had the Story of her life—her name was Zola Blake. With heavy heart he homeward turned, yet No less loyal to his Zola. With sad Misgivings waited for the coming of The ship—long overdue—by stormy sea Kept back. Waiting, pondered gloomily; he Must go and bear the tidings that would solve The mystery of her name, but leave a Darker shadow than before. Still would she Refuse his name they would go away from Palomar. They at the rancho, left so Happily, what would he say to them? At Last with tattered sail and broken, came The ship. He hastening, learned that it would Lay at anchor there yet two days more in Mending. Hopeless, yet with strange desire to Linger there, again he visited the Hospital where Zola’s mother died; but As before, no voice could answer aught of Her; yet caught a thread of hope—an aged Priest in near-by parish might remember. The father heard him,—listened eagerly; Then in his book of records found the date When Lola Vail and Cedric Vaughn were wed; And the christening of her daughter—their child. Left with him for Cedric, left by Lola, The treasure he had brought from Mexico, Lola’s diary, presents he had given, And a miniature of Cedric done by Her own hand; then to the house where they were Married and her resting place. Gilbert took The proof to Colonel Vail and together They rejoiced. He begged that he would bring his Grandchild there when they were wed, and Cedric Vaughn, that he might grasp the hand of that true Man. Now, to Gilbert’s happy heart attuned By hope’s fruition, Nature brought a new Glad song. The bird notes rang with sweeter Melody—sunshine brighter—bluer skies— Even in the tumbling troughs of ocean’s Depth, he read the mirrored light of love and Joy. Thro’ long and dreary days beneath a Tropic sun,—in calm, or fog, or buffeted By winds adverse, the good ship sped ’til thro’ The mild Pacific’s purple haze, Point Loma came in view and then, across the Mesa, to the hacienda, home again. With mysterious air, and teasing told, Or partly told the story. Yes; he had Found a fairy queen and when again the Great round moon came o’er the mountain top, she, Riding on its silvery beams, would come in State,—would come with him—come to the rancho. They must “’bide-a-wee” and trusting him, wait Patiently. So he left them wondering.