Curfew Must Not Ring To-night

i [In the time of Crouiwell, a young soldier, for soin onense, was condcmned to die, and the time of h death was fixed "at the ringing of the curfew." Nal urally 8nch a doom would be fearful and bitter to mi in thu years oí' his hope and pride, but lo ui happy youth death was doubly terrible, since he wu soon to have been mairied to a beautiful jroung lad whora he had long loved. The lady who lovcd hii 1 arden tly in return, liad uscd her utmost eftorts toaver his t'ate, pleading with the judges, and even wil Cromwcllhimself, but all in vain. In her despair sh , tried to bribe the oíd sexton not to ring the bell, bu she found that impos-siple. The hour drew near fe , Ihe execution. The preparations were complete The oíhcers ol' the law brmight torth the prisoiu and waited, while the sun was setting, for the signa from the distant bcll-tower. To the wonder of everj body, it did not ring ! Only one human being at tha moment knew the reason. The poor girl, half wik witb the thought of her lover's peril, had rushed, uti seen, up the winding stairs, and climhed the ladde into the belfry left and seized tbc tongue of the bel The old sexton was in his place, prompt to the fata moment. Ile threw his weight upon the rope, au the bell, obedtent tu hia practiced hand, recled, and swuna to and fro in tfee tower. But the brave ifirl kept Eer bold, and 110 sound issued from its metalie lijw. Again and again the sexton drew the rope, but ith desperate strength the young hcroine held on. Kvcry moiiient niivdc her position more fearful ; every sway of the beli's huge weight threatened to fling her through the high tower window ; hut she would not tot go. At last the sexton went away. Old and draf, he had not noticed that (Iip ourfew gave no peal. The brave girl descended fmm the beÖry, wounded and (remming. She hurried from the cburch to the place of execution. Cromwell himsëlf was there, and was just sending to demand why tbe bell was silent.] Slowly England's sun was settiug o'er hilltops far away, Filling all the land with beauty at the close of one sad day, And the last rays kissed the forehead of a man aud maiden fair, - He with footsteps slow and weary, she with suuny floating hair ; He with bowed head, sad and thoughtful she with lips all cold and white, Struggled to keep back the murmer, - " Curfew must not ring to-night." "Sexton," Bessie'e white lips faltered, pointing to the prison old, With its turrets tall and gloomy, with its walls dark, damp and cold, " Tve a lover in that prison, doomed this very night to die, At the ringing of the Curfew, and no earthly help is uigh ; Cromwell will not come till sunset," and her lips grew strangely white As she breathed the husky whisper, - " Curfew must not ring to-night." "Bessie," calmly spoke the sexton, every word pierced her young heart Like the piercing of an arrow, like a deadly poisoned dart, "Long, long years I've rung the Curfew from that glooiny shadowed tower ; Every eveinng just at sunset, it has tolled the twilight hour ; I have dono my duty ever, tried to do it just and right, Now Tm old and still must do it, Curfew it must ring to-night." Wild her eyes and pale her features, stern and white her thoughtful brow, And within her secret bosom Bessie made a solemn vow She had hstened while the judges without a tear or sigh, M At the ringing of the Curfew, Basil TTnderwood must die." And her breath oame fast and faster, and hei eyes grew large and bright - In an nndertone she murmured, - " Curfew must not ring to-night." She with quick steps bounded forward, sprung within the old church door, Left the old man treading slowly, paths oft he'd trod before ; Not one moment paused the maiden, but with eye aud cheek aglow, Mouuted up the gloomy tower, where the bell swung to and iro, And she climbed the rusty ladder on whioh feil no ray of light, Up and up, - her white lips saying, - " Curfe w shall not ring to-night." She has reached the topmost ladder, o'er her hangs the great dark bell ; Awful is the gloom beneath her, like a pathway down to heil. Lo, the pondrous tongue is swinging, 'tis the hour of Curfew now, And the sight has chilled her bosom, stopped her breath ar.d paled her brow, Shall she let it ring? No, never! Flash her eyes with suddeu light, And she sprang and grasped it firmly - " Curfew must not ring to-night." Out she swung, far out, the city seenied a speek of light below, 'Twixt heaven and earth her form suspended, as the bell awung to and fro, And the sexton at the bell-rope, old and deaf, heard not the bell, But he thought it still was ringing, fair young Ba8il'8 funeral knell. Still the maiden clung most firmly, and with trembling lips and white, Said to hush her heart's wild beating, - " Curfew shall not ring to-night." It was o'er, the bell ceased swaying, and the maiden stepped once more Firmly on the dark old ladder, where for hundred years before, Human foot had not been planted. The brave deed that she had done Should be told long ages after, as the rays of setting suu, Should illume the sky with beauty ; aged sires with heads of white, Long should teil thé little children, Curfew did not ring that night. O'er the distant hills came Cromwell ; Bessie sees him, and her brow, Full of hope and full of gladness, has no anxious traces now. At his feet she tells her story, shows her hands All bruised and torn, And her face so sweet aud pleading, yet with sorrow pale and worn, Touched his heart with sudden pity, lit his eye with misty light ; " Go ! your lover lives," said Cromwell, " Curfew shall not ring to-night."