Faithful she certainly was, as well as gentle, kind, affectionate; and her faithfulness to her new mistress did not desert her even when she left to get married; for, though perfectly happy in her new life, she returned with cheerful willingness and remained for several months looking after the babies and helping the household over the domestic upset occasioned by the arrival of another small addition to the family.

A certain wily flatterer (of the female sex, too) who must have kissed the Blarney-stone, not once but repeatedly, said unblushingly many years ago to the present writer, "I never yet knew a Nora that was not nice." This too amiable assertion may yet have some grain of truth in it; for though Noras as well as Marys and Bridgets and Maggies doubtless have their faults, and plenty of them, I have never yet met a Nora (present company, of course, always excepted) who was not "nice" in the sense that she certainly belonged to the distinctive type of Irish cailin, the dark-haired, blue-eyed, shy, soft-spoken maiden whose exact prototype one never meets out of Ireland-the Nora of Alfred Percival Graves' poem, "The Girl with the Cows.

For behind all the fun that her features evince,
Mistress Nora Maguire has lashins of sinse;
But though Nora was careful she never was mane,
But dear as the dew to the hot summer plain,
She'd go stealin' the poor and the sick to relieve,
Unbeknownst in the hush of the dawn or the eve:
And no girl in the service at chapel took part
Who followed the priest with a faithfuller heart,
And no sound in the anthem rose truer or higher

Than the fresh fervent voice of sweet Nora Maguire.

Of course there must be exceptions; and one lady referred to by the Cork poet, Maginn, in these bold terms, "Her name is Nora, and she's out on bail," would probably hardly answer to the above flattering estimate of her namesakes in general. Nora, indeed, seems to have been a favourite name with many poets; for in addition to "Nora Creina," and "Nora M'Shane," and "Nora of the Amber Hair," we have John Greenleaf Whittier's

O Norah, lay your basket down,

And rest your weary hand,

And come and hear me sing a song
Of our old Ireland,

amidst a host of others.

About the name Katharine there lingers an air of stateliness and nobility, a flavour of queenliness and sanctity commingled.

Someone-again I think it is the reverend editor of the IRISH MONTHLY-has remarked that all the queens of the name were called Katharine; all the saints-and there have been manyCatherine. But in its pet-name form of " Kitty," it grows kittenish and playful whilst in the further diminution "Kate," some rhymster has robbed us of our ideals by telling us that "Kate has a tongue with a tang; "an effect further strengthened by the recollection of Petruchio's scolding Kate—“ Sweet Kate, curst Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom."

Elizabeth, too, by association, holds qualities of queenliness and sanctity side by side with others neither queenly nor holy; whilst "Lizzie seems to embody the careful housewife "busy about many things," the neat, deft-handed, domestic little person who loves to set her house in order and keep everything in its place. The very softness of Alice suggests a sweet, wise, gentle, womanly character, and the same may be said of Teresa," though in a less degree, perhaps, owing to its abbreviation to Tess; whilst Ellen, like Jane and Lizzie, has a thrifty, housewifely, work-a-day sound. But here I had better draw my paper to a close, for although I have confined myself strictly to names of the feminine gender, and to only a few of these, this subject of name-significance might well be continued ad infinitum and to weariness.

66

NORA TYNAN O'MAHONY.

Since writing the above, I have read in Robert Louis Stevenson's English Admirals: "Most men of high destinies have highsounding names. . . And you could not find a better case in point than that of the English Admirals. Drake and Rooke and Hawke are picked names for men of execution . . . Benbow has a bulldog quality that suits the man's character, and it takes us back to those English archers who were his true comrades for plainness, tenacity, and pluck. Raleigh is spirited and martial, and signifies an act of bold conduct in the field. It is impossible to judge of Blake or Nelson, no names current among men being worthy of such heroes. But still it is odd enough, and very appropriate in this connection, that the latter was greatly taken with his Sicilian title. The signification, perhaps, pleased him,' says Southey. 'Duke of Thunder was what in Dahomey would have been called a strong name; it was to a sailor's taste, and certainly to no man could it be more applicable.' Admiral in itself is one of the most satisfactory of distinctions; it has a noble sound and a very proud history; and Columbus thought so highly of it that he enjoined his heirs to sign themselves by that title as long as the house should last."

ROSIE

[Died in Nordach Sanatorium, Black Forest.]

Ан, me! ah, me! Whene'er again

I think upon that lonely child

Among those mountains grim and wild,
My heart is filled with loving pain.

And yet not lone perchance, for she
Was naturally bright and gay,
And in a brave, unselfish way
She showed no griefs that one could see.

By all her ailing comrades loved,

With them, beneath those foreign skies,
Apart from home and home's dear ties,
In cheerfulness she daily moved.

I see her laughing-heart at ease-
On narrow path or roadway broad,
But always, whether path or road,
Beneath those never-ending trees.

Or I can see her on a seat

Of many seats that fringed the ways—
At close of sombre autumn days,
Or with the snows around her feet.

'Twas thus she sat when first, alas!

I left her in that German land,

And backward looked—that scene will stand

Till all things from my memory pass.

Then came she home for one short spell.
And hope rose high above our pain,
But soon it ebbed, and once again
Gloom filled the hearts that loved her well.

When next I saw her, she had been
In bed for many months, but still,
Responsive to her dauntless will,
Bright eyes shone out from soul serene.
VOL. XXXV.-No. 406.

Indeed it seemed as if some years
Had fallen from her, for her ways
Were redolent of childhood's days,
Ere aught had come to call for tears.
And there she slowly pined away,

Except at moments always bright,
Whimsical sometimes, gay and light,
As death came closer day by day.

One joy I had-above her bed

Her mother hovered, and the love That's loaned to earth by One above Was ever on the sufferer shed.

Another joyful memory

I hold-it was the very lastHer eyes were almost overcastShe opened them and smiled on me.

E. H.

SEPARATION

BECAUSE the doctrine Thou dost teach

Demands that men be pure,

And in its fair ideal doth reach
To all that shall endure,

They have forsaken Thee, my God!

Because, believing in the might
Of Thy frail creature, man,

They have forgotten Thou canst smite
The while they evil plan,

And have forsaken Thee, my God!

Forsaken! Thou dost know the cry!
It went from Calvary;

It was Thy soul's last bitter sigh,

Its depth of agony:

"Thou hast forsaken Me, My God!"

Have pity on them, human, weak,

Who say they know not Thee!

Alas! Thy gifts are used to speak

This licensed blasphemy.

How long must these things be, my God?

EMILY LOGUE.

R

NOTRE DAME DE CALAIS

EADERS of Ruskin will remember that passage in Modern

Painters where he tells us of the intense pleasure that the sight of the old tower of the church of Notre Dame at Calais always gave him. He calls our attention to the noble unsightliness of it; the record of its years written so visibly, yet without sign of weakness or decay; its stern wasteness and gloom, eaten away by the Channel winds; its slates and tiles all shaken and rent, and yet not falling; its desert of brick-work full of bolts and holes, and ugly fissures, and yet strong, like a bare brown rock; its carelessness of what anyone thinks or feels about it, putting forth no claim, having no beauty, pride nor grace; yet neither asking for pity; not, as some ruins are, useless and piteous, feebly or fondly garrulous of better days; but useful still, going through its own daily work-as some old fisherman, beaten grey by storm, yet drawing his daily nets; so it stands-this church of Notre Dame at Calais-with no complaints about its past youth, in blanched and meagre massiveness, gathering human souls together underneath it; the sound of its bells for prayer still rolling through its rents; and the grey peak of the tower seen far across the sea, principal of the three that rise above the waste of surfy sand and hillocked shore, -the lighthouse for life, and the belfry for labour, and the church for patience and praise.

With these thoughts in my mind I tarried in Calais on my way south some years ago; curious to see and learn something more about this old church than what Ruskin tells us. He indeed appears to have viewed and studied it from the outside-" at the foot of the old tower," and never to have entered it. For I cannot imagine the author of The Stones of Venice standing before the beautiful altar in this church-a veritable hidden gem-without giving us a pen picture of it worthy to rank beside his matchless description of St. Mark's Cathedral. I found it a wonderful old church indeed outside, and awe-inspiring within. Its absence of all show and care for outside aspect appealed to me as having an infinite symbolism in it. It is of large dimensions, and has somewhat the appearance of a fortress. The plan is that of a Latin cross, and consists of a large nave with aisles, north and south transepts, a choir with choir-aisles, and a side chapel. I believe it was originally built in the thirteenth century. It suffered greatly in the various sieges