-•" 1 ^ — • - -
' T h e gallant Colonel JOBN A . M I H
_ . brids's y u n t i , b / R e r . K. bss crowned bis hillliaut record with
O o a , CoL Jno. A, Mortis, sdito'r ef thli
Paper, to Misa Ida, aldest deugktsr of Dr.
Was. L Cballiss, all of tbla city.
Ko Sards.
Th'ere is no man In Kansas in whose^'-^
[welfare we have a deeper interest than
JthaVpf our namesake at Atchison, Col.
[ Joair A. MARTIN, editor of the Atchison
Champion. It is, therolbro. with no or-
dlnary pleasure that wo welcome him to
| the matrimonial ranks. His friends have
been anticipating this slop for some time,
''* and his editorial and typographical breth-
ren are showering congratulations upon
him, which, in quantity and quality,
must be pleasant in the extreme. The
Colonel stand* In the front as an editor,
and as a public man, whose services have
been great and appreciated, while his so-
cial qualities but add strength to his
claims. He was married on the first of %
June to Miss IDA CHAI.LIH, daughter of
Dr. W D . L. Challls, of that city. We ore
glad to learn that he has secured a woman I; •' bays ths warmest wishes O f T a i Bui.- , , And lion henrts bow down before
worthy of him. May the happiest and h tKTiN, lor a future of unsUoyed bapnj^ U
\ rlobeat experiences of married life ohar- \>
! aoterlto this union "~
IIVMKNIAL.
The Atchison Champion of the 3d Inst.,
contains tho following notloe:
MaRBiKt>.—On Thursday, Juno 1st,
1871, at the residence of the bride's par*
ents, by Rev. E. Ouiin, Col. Jno. A .
Martin, editor of this paper, to Mlas Ida,
eldest daughter of Dr. W D , L. Calllss,
all of thla city.
We served u a private In Col. Martin's
Eighth Kansas regiment In 1801; and
can say that If ho rules his house-
bold with the same kindness and fon-
bearanoe that he govorned his regiment,
£ • will give satisfaction. May happiness
and prosperity attend him though
all time. ~£r
.. r.Tbo Atohison Champion of tho 2d
contains the marriage of tho oditor
Ji'.of iEat "pnpor, Col, Jpbn A. Martin,
'and Miss Ida Cballiss, eldest daugh-
, •'tor of Dr. Wm. L. Obftllisa, of Atch-
ison. Wo horoby tondor tho Colonol |?
and his fair brido onr oongrntula-
tions, and wish tlidm ft perpotual
honeymoon. Tho Colonol has al-
ffl ways beon what tbo boys call "a
lucky ouss," yet wo have no hesita-
tion in saying that his wodding so
accomplished a young
— 1 __0CCur'
pneo in bis life
001 iiJfe
TIN, editor of tho Atchison Champion,
IT -' •on Champion, was married on the
another victory; this tioie s lore con-
quest. Alter a loin- and admirably
concluded siege, the fair Mira IDA
GHAI.MSS pt AtcbUon. lurrendera un-
conditionally, and promises to love,
honor und obey—an editor,
it rcquirna a great deal of nerve upon
lbs part ol n July to stsnd up, and pro-
uiac lieluio limveo, that abu will
love, honor, obey and live with an ed-
itor, hut lovu burmouuls all ohaiacles.
r It ia iiiideratood that the Colonol
h tbe distant iilturo, thus may thosu
A wosd a long while, hut the prirc, how-
ever, waa worth contending for. Ths
^ bride is the eldest daughter of Dr. Win.
I
j Challiis, of Atchison, sod Is a young
E g lady gifted with personal bescty.endow
sd with rare culture and social accom«
pllabmsDtr, end just tho person to e n - j
liven an editor In limes of depression.
WealMtt—PMte b i M . ^ » H A s H e g — m
d«sigJM>ass4rr|rtbn mldaaasffier weaki
K *&Jl^MVtUm,~<}ak0m. They
MAitniKU.—Ool. John A Martin,
editor of tlio Alobison Champion, was
marriod on the. 1st inst. to Mis* ldn,
eldest daugbtor of Dr. Wm. L. Chullisd,
kt of that city. Wo congrutulalo tbo
L Colonel on Lis fortunalo union with an
' mniublo and accomplished woman, No
editor in ibis Stato has moru friouds
^ or enjoysftlarger degreo ofpopuluriiy
than Col. Jobn A Martin, and wo IIIHO
congrutalftto tbo young lady on bur
good foriuno in soourin^ a llfe-purlnorj
•o worthy of ber. " Mono but tho
bravo deserve tbe fair." <
Tux Atehinon Champion is one of the
oldest paper* In the State, 'and luw alwaya
appeared upon our table with creditable reg-
ularity—until Thursday last. We didn't
get any then, and were kept in total igno-
rance of the reason therefor until yesterday,
when we found out all about it as follows:
On Thursday. June 1, 1871, at the real-
deuce of the bride's narenta, by Itcv. E.
tiunn, Col. Jno. A. Martin, editor of the
Chamvion, andOliaa Ida Challiss, eldest
daughter of Dr. Wm.' L. Challisa, all of
this city. No cards.
Bo that>Jjfhat's the matter with Col. John
Lin. .'^We eitenilour beaVwiahes and
m hope
clouded.
- "fe Just openingjnaxj>ever be
< < * * ' of Ji(e.^-f * «^**** "^ .--OT*»*S«!W
< &
Jno. A. Murtin, of tho Atolii-'
1st inst., to Miss Ma Cpliilin, oldost
daughtor of Dr. Win. Aj Ciiullis, of
Alobison. Wo oati'l do lliu sell ject
justice, so copy what tho Leaven-
worth Cull says about tho affair:
"A printer coplurod by u guitar—a
•oldior surroudom at tho bock of u
ohignon—gone to grass l>y tho witVt)
of a fan—"rattlod" by n frill—"lock-
ed up" without mullet or quoin—and
we hopo, without pie or t-rjuubhlo in
"forms" pass into tbo realm of the
* Great Master Typo of tbo Universe. | j
Tbus, as Miles O'Bilov hnlh said: S|
"They loll, my friend, the young, the 13
proud,
proud,
Tho gny, tho festive cusses full—
A D orange wreath, liuioud of iiiroud,
A ring in lieu of m I mi If hall.
I The man who fucud u battle's roar
Now yields to ruffled cheiniacitvs,
Souio twilled, frilled pair ofnauiulcitcs."
CKI.. .IMIIN A.M vit-riN. ..'• il,f ,\|,-J,.
i.-wii ('|j;i:u|iion, IIM< iiniir;.'iI .,1 lo.-t.-—
\\'ci-oiijri;i:uliiiif tin- < 'uliun 1. IK- lias
mil wuitcil in vuin # .MU< Cliullii.s ia ;i
llutilf Inilv, n.< ivi-11 i\> liiilnlsiiini-, and
our IViciiil has tihlltilJI'il II |nizc litis
tinii'. Tilt! Il!t]»;r: pair have n:ii' ino.«!
eoi'Uial griVtlllg' llllil e.illii-. I wisiio-!
IWriliojr ftulyc teaUltrauuii li,)|i]>iiivft.l
L . - I S - «w- «_ <- ' niMl
M.\iiliir.i>. • On Tbiirsihv, .lum- l>t, 1S71,
at tin- iv»!ilcuer of tlii' li'nili'^ parent.-', by
Kev. K. tiiliili. I'nl, .Inn. A. Martin. I'dllnr of
lid* turner, in MI*K Ida. ehleil ilalltf liter of Or.
Win. 1.. I ll»ll»»», lllluf lid' eilN.-.l/r/iiroii
C'Atwt/itiMt*
Col., Wt'.Jtivii yinijiiy. Didn't we^ueisit—
utuioHt knnw It—during Hint Im.JI ride to the
ltoeky Mountains la.-l I'aU'f Huft rvrsand U>
Wllelllllg KllllltW tnld tales. John. Your eyes
were nut always luivullni for bullal" when as-
tray froiii your luite-bcxdv. Joy, my boy, lor
your.-' is no common prize
"lie thine the more Milled ih'llgllts
Of love llie.l liaiii<li'- eolitr-ul.
When I he Pun I heart with lleiirt - uulltis,
Ami .-oul in unison with soul. ' .
&BJZ
A notice in the marriage oolum informs
our readers that CoL J. A. Martin, editor
of the Atchison Champion, hasjust gained
his greatest victory. He has won hwat
faint heart never won, a " fair lady."—
We wish the gallant soldier and his amia-
ble wife, a happy journey along the path
1 M 1
J£imJ&-

"^Cfiaipipn^^nB^aTn'ed yesterday
* a|t|ho residerTpe 'bf^naibride's • p«£
'frfeniMi to -Mierlda 'Ch'aliis/jeldest if
'" yaughfeVofTDrf Wm.^Etihalilis,' of
Atchisdn. A printer captured by a
galtor—r-a soldier surrenflers at the
,becTc*bf' a chignon—gone to grass
by the .wave of a fan—"rattled" by
a frill—^'locked up" without mai-
lefror quoin—and, we hope, with-
out pi or squabhle iu the distant
, luturefthus may these "forms" pass
ointo the; realms of tho Great Master
&:Typo of w^JOniverse.
"Ji' lTj»M, as lliles O'Eiley hath said :
'-!j*'They fall; my friend, the young, the proud,
0 The gay, the festive cusses fall—
Ar. orange wreath. Instead of shroud,
A ring in lieu or mlnnie ball.
m The man who faced a battle's roar
' Now yields to ruffled chemisettes,
And lion hearts bow down before
me twilled, frilled pair of pantalettes.''
fmBBL.
We all know how pleasant any little
pleasant gossip is; concerning weddings.
The Topeka .Record serves up the follow-
ing, concerning"'Col. Martin's marriage,
which we "publish because we think it
handsome:—:>«ttxd!&u. CUttijul*^,
• " We congratulate a good Editor, good
soldier, and good fellow on his fortunate
union with an amiable and accomplished
woman. The engagement now so hap-
pily terminated by another and more per-
manent "contract," has been no secret
among Col. Martin's friends for two or
three years past, and its length has been
the subject of some impatient comment,
but we suppose we violate no confidence
in saying that the delay has been occa-
r •, sioned by an inflexible rule established
' by ihe young lady's father, that his
daughters are not to marry till they are
twenty-one years of age. This excellent
yj rule having been dutifully complied with,
V| the parties were married with the appro-
v a l - o f the parents, .and with the good
fA wishes of nearly the entire population of
[Kansas. _____^_^^___
/ZTUE gtiUaut andfearless editor of
(
the Atchison Champion, Col. John A.
4 Martin, was married to Jliss Id.a Chal-
' liss, daughter of Dr. Wm. L. Challiss,
t
on the 1st instant. We extend to the
f
happy couple our hearty congratula-
tions, and hope that their path through
r
,strcwu with flovv-ers,^bj-ight,
" ^ I life may bc^stn
Col.
John A. Martin, of the jfe;
Atchison Champion, has taken a -:t;
partner for h f e , M U S . I ^ C h a l l i S S - * V
of that 9*7>-~M-£tt%^0$;
&S&*A notice in another part of this
paper gives information that another
bachelor editor has "gone up." Our
friend, Col. John A- Martin, editor of
the'Atcb^on Daily Champion, is mar
ried. Il! he makes as good a husband
as he does an editor, we^congratulate
'I his fair young.bride. •vSi**"
COL J O H N A. MABTIN, of the ,te right jollily.
Atchison Champion,wi» married on
the .1st tMtv,Ut Miss Ida Challis.
Courageous beyond a doubt, during
the war, he has proven himself
doubly so to marry 'in the caloric
•days of June- May. he be happy,
.««
"and may the beautiful bride, that,
was"Challis, nevermore b^.chalice\ | £ '. Our genial.' evening' neighbor, the Patriot,
^ o t b e J i | s ^ t h e ^ ^ m » i y n njan.^J.
Si?:
~^~^' " ' — ii • -\~i
COL. JOHN A. MARTIN, Editor of,
the Atchison Champion, was married
on the 1st iost., to Miss IDA, daugh-
ter of Dr. WM. CUALMS, of that
city. We congratulate our old friend
in the step he has taken and wish him
sod his wife many ion F=V-S
health and bappinjes|^;.ji
»..**» s a i d :
—Co). John A. Martin, of tho
Atchison Champion, has taken a
partner for life. Miss Ida C^alluss, of
J Soma twilled, frilled pair of pantalettea."
^jhJiayM
E D . - O n Thursday, June 1st, 1ST1,
f
. t t l i e residence o f tbe bride's parents, by
llcv E Gunn, Col. Jno. A. Martin, editor of
the Champion, to Miss fd.i Challiss, eldest
daughter of Dr. Wm.. Challiss. all of
l Atchison. No cards. ^ „
, lauai'ii"
ON NJMSAGANSSTT BAT.
rr w. acaexAKi u s .
PHIMTNO where tbe Spring-Urn* listem
For the murmur of the bee,
While the dlm-hued morning gUatens
illetlly on thee and me, .
Vara mia—
• Tearfully on the* and me. :
Lingering wtiore the Summer chase*
Deep, cool shadow* from the lea,
While the brigbt-hued noon-step paoe*
Ustlesalyby theo and me,
Oaramia^-,... ,. ••, ..
, i »
Dreamily by thee and me. ' "'* •• •
Floating where the Autumn wakens
,• Love-tonee pure as love may be, .
While the *of>hued twiljgUt beckon*
Tenderly to thee and me, "•
"... r Caromi?—. •.; .-..-i -:. ^ .
Longingly to the* and me^ \ .
Glldin* where the Winter dote*
In hi* robes of ermined Kite, - -
While the dark-hued evening mioses
, ' Bll*afally round thee and me,
'. : ' Cora mia— . ' • ^7
r Blessedly round the* and bie.
/• ,-**v**.K<*-&r---<-i&<%ty#hxA •Silt*:
. H o w - m i l PaiMTtRSDOTALC ABOC1
MATBIMOSY OF OUR EiOTOB^-Our-; readers
know that the Editor has committed iriatii-
mony. He flew off t b f h a n d l e oh Thursday
morning He is a.iuarr.ied man, and has gone
on a brief^ fotjEjEaat » n d taken his bride'
along.
man.
CTiiUk«jVje!<1 ocjI, John is a modest
It's taken him a long time to get mar-
ried, and ho was jined right easy. But it's
got out, and the printers .congratulate him
We know h e will appreciate-
the good things .-the -papers say' -about
matrimony in general, and his matri-
mony in,_ particular. " '" In^his obsenoe, we
therefore take the liberty of telling our read-
iz*
ers, how the printers do talk about tho event
'••* i»
which has left T H E CHAMPION office tempora-
rily in charge of ; * j e local" and " y e devil."
mm
does it.up in the superb style.following:
Hi ' ~-'
M A B B I E D . — On: Thursday. June 1st, 1871,
if
at the residence-of tbe bride's parents, by
Rev. E. Gunn, Col. Jno. A . Martin, editor of
T H E CHAMPION, to. Miss Ida Challiss, eldest
daughter of Dr. Wm. L. Challiss, all of this
city. • No oard«.-T u:> :.; -"'•:
im
There now, another editor g o n e ! but his
exit from the ranks of the bachelor army • **>' XL
was not unlooked for. Although he has
evinced much obstinacy in the business
wbioh has culminated in h i t oomplete cap-
ture, h i s friends- anticipate that ere the
i
close of the honeymoon, he will be able to
drill in the ranks of the grand army of ben-
mm
edicts according to the most approved rules
of discipline, without any inconvenience
whatever. Thus, as Miles O'Kiley hath
...:,... .
"They fall, mjrfriend, the young, tbe proud,
Th« gay, the faaUva c m i u fail—
An orange wreath, iaitead of lorond,
A ring tn lieu of mlnnie ball.
The man who faced a kattle'i roar
Now ylelde to ruffled chomuetu,
•
a&jSlAwP
mf
And lion hearti bow down before
it L';i3w55T MU-
^j^Ji^ssgs^SSSEPS^J~:^m.
ler, of the White Cloud"feWe/, puts in his
compliments as follows: fv'
" M A B B I E D ! — J o h n A. - Martin," of -- T H I •!tt*i
ATCHISON CHAMPION, was married, on the
1st inst., to ,Miss Ida Challiss, daughter of
W. h. Challiss, of that c i t y . ' The Colonel's
y 1 military ardor is still'so strong, that be em-
p l o y e d Rev. Mr. Guhn ; to perform the oere-
i\
mony. It i s well for an editor always to
have a good Ida. May John A. never lose
1±M his." .i . .; ••..'
The Emporia Newt extends its congratu-
lations to our y e t absent editor. It says:
" M A R R I E D . — J o h n A. Martin, editor of
THE ATCHISON CHAMPION, was married, on
Thursday last, to Miss Ida Challiss, of that
city. M a y tbe richest blessings of this life
i'dorn and sweeten your household, our *y.' i-i.V-
' brother, for many, many years, and may the
beautiful creations of hope and love in your
hearts made one never die." •r*M;."
M
->J,-4
•••i:.i
Frank A . Root, of the Seneca Courier also
extends his oomplimenta to his old comrade
in the newspaper business. After quoting •*•••
m
'" %$
the marriage notice, he s a y s : j:
By the foregoing it will be teen that our
% I
,w
old friend has a t last been captivated b y t h e • a * :
tender but overpowering influenoe of one of
Eve's fair daughters, We wish the happy M
couple a l i f e of unolouded j o y and happiness -.>,afeJ
I
5^.:
and may many olive plants thrive around XjaKl i r"r •
their table to make merry- and bright the fjr»» '
neat and attraotiva cottage by tbe riverside.
The Waterville Tiltgroph after^ publishing
-B&
 [o»y compliment* the happy
. * • Carriage
! c S & a S j o i e of the oldest and ablest
e
of the ianaaf Wy»P»P ?v conductors, and
<">e of the mo»t prominent citiiene of Atoh- i • --
Uon. TO»lftid|belpnge to one of the oldest M to Ida-ho!
and most »WgT0y respeoted families of that
oityf^«rets"mlgb£ be regarded as a marriage
in Kansas of high life! acoording to the best
Von have a "through
•'through tieket"
ticket" foryour
for jour jeur-' jeur- !
ney, and that you will never hav«,-o»u*.e to I
regret the .tart. You havelaag been an en-1
thu*ie*Uo admirer of "Westward, Holl'-buti P*""*" 1 >
hereafter you will be more sincerely atUohed | dor the editorial charge of DAVID MIBTIK,
, it
The Fort Soott Monitor congratulates .our
absent Editor in this wise: •• ..:•..•... r-
"CoL Jno. A. Martin, of T H * ATCHISON
MASKS. ._ ,
D u r i n j J tbe absence of the editor tor tne
T C B X M P I O H ha* been un-
. r f » . m MABTIN,
Esq., who ha* placed us under many obh
gations for the fidelity and ability with which
be has discharged the duties of the position.
'%H
He is a graceful and vigorous writer and a

meaning at suohja phrase. We wish the re-
spected couple the very best fortune in life.
! The Platte .City Landmark congratulates
the Colonel" i i follows: -.,
Col. John A. >Iartin| editor of the Atchis-
on. CHAMPION, was married on Tuesday of
last week, to Miss Ida ChalliBS, daughter of
tfr. Wnv^L". Challiss, of Alohison. AVc con-
gratulate, the Colonel npon this happy event
in his life.
The Walhena Reporter after, referring to
the marriage of the editor says i
We congratulate our friend'Col. Martin,
and wish him "and''his better naif all the bands in the Slate.". .
pleasures and good fortune that this worlH is
capable of bestowing.
The Holton News greeteth the Colonel both
in prose and poetry. Hear:
Oua NEW MA.DK BENEDICT.—The mar-
riage of Col. Martin, of THE CHAMPION, to
tbe accomplished daughter of Dr. Wm. L.
ChallUs, of Atchison, affords an occasion for
numerous congratulations from the Colonel's
host of friends. As a faithful soldier, an
able editor, and most genial gentleman, the
Colonel heartily deserves• the many delicate
compliments showered upon him by the Kan-
sas press?;*,*-""'v' • *"
'• ' ":The' greeting hand extend wel
' -The joys of life attend ye,
'Till ripe old age shall come.
, ' .The Glorious One befriend ye,
• • And • oherubs*'many send ye!
• ,"And.dying take ye home.
claS^-The Topeka Record is satisfied that
our Editor did a good thing. It says: '
We find the following in THX ATCHISON
few? CHAMPION:
On Thursday, June 1, 1871, at the resi-
dence of the bride's parents, by Rev. £.
Qunn, Col, J&o. A. Martin, editor of this
3 * paper, to Mlas Ida fihallis*, eldeit daughter
of Dr. Wm. L. ChalUai, all of this city. No
cards.. '•',. ']
We congratulate a good editor, good sol-
dier, and good fellow on his fortunate union .heretofore have been said to have beoome a
with an amiable and, aooomplished .woman.
The engagement now so happily terminated
by another and more permanent: *• oontxao t," hold word in more endearing term* than the
has been no secret among. CoL Martin's common .acceptation. 'None but the brave
friend* for two or three years past, and its deserve the fair.'
length has been the subject x>t tome' impa- gallant bridegroom ha* fairly won matrimo-
tient comment, but we suppose we violate nial honors. Long life and happiness to Col
no confidence In saying that the delay has been Martin and his estimable wife/'
occasioned l>y. an inflexible rule ' established
by the young lady's father, that h.U daugh-
JI ters are not to marry till thoy are twenty-
one years of age. This exoellentirulej Hav-
ing been dutifully complied with, the parties
were married with the approval of the par-
ents, and with the good wishes of nearly., the
entire population of Kansas. • ' •'•; »
The Mary sville Locomotive thus funnily dls-
oourseih: "'"* """.•; .. ' -• .'i'!.'•",?.;';'.-!
THB ATCHISON CHAMPION of yesterday
morning, oomea to us with the following very
.sj&ft^* jt*fr*rr'irrft' r.!'.!!,'.'.*"'" *ri~^u M '
>;. MAXBUS:—On Thursday, June lit, 1871,
•4*v'« at the residence of the bride's parent*,' by
Ji'ev, E. Qunn, CoL Jno. A. Martin, editor of
thl* f paper,- to: Mis*v Id* Ohalliat, eldest
daughter/of DrV. Wm. L. Challiss, aU of.this
bity.4?No cards.-.-;.-. .;: u..-;. w: vi„u , »£ I
j . ' S p i y W have; lef^V^e'toiroli^t.'baehelor
'•J^^nnrMmMrmii-Wni' '° - b ' i L ^.wr®*
1
CHAMPION was married on Thursday, the for- clear thinker, and if he had turned his at-
tunate lady being Miss Ida Challiss. Not only tention to the press instead of the law he
the whole press of the State, but Col. Mar- would have brought to the ranks editorial a
tin's hundred* of friend* in every profession
and business will extend to him and Mrs.' M;<' strong and fertile pen. We take occasion to
the-warmest wishes for a long, prosperous tender him our grateful thank* for his kind
and happy life." •• .:.•.:;.';•': ,!.;.•-" attention to our work during our absence.
The Lawrence Journal after quoting the We have several times made draft* upon hi*
notice of the marriage of CoL Martin, says:
good nature in this way, and they have
" We congratulate , Brother Martin npon
the happiest event of hi* life. Good editors alway* been kindly honored.
make good husbands,as a rule;' and, accord- We also take occasion to make our ac-
ing to this rule, Miss Challiss is to be con- knowledgements to the journals of the State
gratulated on getting one of the best hus- for the kind and generous well wishes they
..; „ „,..". »--t" r
have recently and so warmly expressed. We
The Topeka Commonwealth under the, head
certainly appreciate the kindness and good-
of " Hymenial," after quoting the marriage
will of our editorial brethren, and shall
notice aforesaid, disoourseth in .the compli-
always feel an honest and an honorable
mentary manner following, that is to.*ay:j
Thus has ooourred an event that has been pride in having and holding their esteem
anticipated for some time by the Colonel's 1and D a l rfriendship.
lBuaB„H. We especially
w , value the „
many friends. No editor in K*n*a* has f b m e m b e „ 0 f the profes-jf
more friends or enjoy* a larger degree ofl gooo opinion «;
popularity than CoL Jno. A. Martin. . / H o n J *ion in which we labor. The work anu on*. |,
orable, brave, high-toned and oon*l*tent, H*^ t ; e g 0 f editorial life we honor and love, we
masterly and ready pen has ever been at the
aervioe of freedom, justiot and right, and al-
ways opposed to sham* and duaagogusry. for those who labor with us at this pleasant
In hi* new relation he ha* the solid good will though arduous work, with pride in it and
and wishes of hi* legion* of friend*,; •'„ May i affection for it, bringing to the discharge of
continual honors and (uweaa.be his portion ' it* duties zeal, energy and honest enthu-
and may unalloyed happiness always be en-
joyed by the new marital firm." _•'•/; ;•.','; ,. eiasm, we feel a, friendship and regard that
i The Lawrence Tribune seem* to think-the is very strong and earnest. To win and
Colonel has acted very wisely. It'say*:" 'keep the friendship and esteem of these, our
" AN EDITOB MAXKIXD.—We are pleased to ' brethren of the press, will always be with "
announce the marrlege.'of OoL.Jno. A. Mar- something worth striving for. We hope.
tin, editor of Tux ATOHIIOX CKAMPIOX, to
Miss Ida, daughter of Dr. Wm; L. ChalUss, shall always have it
of that oity. The bride is . represented as a A W O R K M A N ' S WOOING.
young lady of great personal .beauty, rare
)
oulture and amiability.'.' :.;'„;...'; .'-•'_:.,',., I know that my hands may be hard and rough,
We congratulate our editorial brother on That my cheeks may be worn and pale,
the happy event, and the young lady on her Bat my heart le made of a good sound stuff,
'good fortune in scouring a life partner so That will never falter or fail;
worthy of her. CoL Martin's • name might And though in tbe world withraymates I stand
To share in the battle of life,
household word In Kansas, and it is singular I take thee, my girl, by the dainty band,
that he ha* to long delayed making it a house- As my own, my sweet bonny wife.
Though never ajewel wreath may span
The curls on thy beautiful brow,
On that hypothesis the
I'll pledge tbee my heart and troth like a man,
And love thee forever as now.
And though the bright dreams of lore's sunny
prime
TO EVA. Too often tbe future belie,
Tbe steep bills of lite together we'll climb,
B I EALPH WALDO 8UEB80K. And conquer our fate—thou and I.
My coat may be poor, my words may.be few,
0 fair aud etateb/ maid I whose eye Yet there's never an er.nined king,
* Was VindlaJ lu the upper iSy, Can offer a queen a present more true
At the eame torch that Uxbted mine:
For so I muBt interpret still Than mine of a beart and a ring:
i ' The sweet dominion o'or my will,— That tiny gold link with wbicb we may bind
' A sympathy divine.
Our fortunes in one common bond,
Ah I let me bhunelew gase upon And rear us a home where happiness shrined
Features thai aeem in heart my own;
Mor fear those watchful sentinels, May dwell with affection most fond.
Which charm the more their glance forbids— What more would we seek? What more would w B
Ohatte^growinf underneath lelr lids,
Withfirethat oi [raws while it repels. have?
What more could fair Nature bestow,
Thine eye* atlll shone for me, though tar
I lonely roved the laud or sea j If, of all her rich gifts we ventured to crave
As I behold yon evening star, Tbe richest that mortals may know?
Which yet beholds not me. For aye, dearest girl, shall our wedded love
Thin morn I olimbed themisty UU,
And roamed tbe pasture through! • Flash star-like, atop or our life,
How danced tby form before my path, . And never will I a base traitor prove
Amidst thedeep-eyeddewl •*- -
Jtk To my heart, my home, or my \
 I
8AJFE.
B T A. J . B ,

Tee, aofe In my Father's core !

I
Vbai tboogb tbe tompuet isfierceaad load,
And my eons are oat on tbe angry warai r
I lift my heart to Qod in prayer
| And know that tny Father bean, aud w8l save.
Tea, eafe. When my daughter wont
I I forgot to warn her of perils nigh.
Bat 'tie not too late—tor Ui is there ;
I can go to Him; I'll be content.
Be will keep her safe, for He heareth pray*.
Tee, safe In my Father's care I
My love went forth on a etormy path,
Jtod-my heart waa oiled with wild unrest.
Bui I breathed lo my father instant prayer,
And Be brought him tale at my soul's r^ineet.
My friend is encompassed with'rials rancd; '
Peril of life and peril of foul.
I may not reach hit heart or ear.
But a way to hold him sale 1're totwa !
God I can reach ; Mo more I'll rear.
There is powor with UKm. He trill lake oor ;
care
- O n Sunday, at 4 o'clock, the first car-
riage that ever crossed on the Atchison
w
On Wednesday, Feb. 6th, at the resident
bridge passed safely over to the Missouri of the bride's parents, by Rev. E. Qui]
«de. It was a small carriage, and held Kuth Davis B. Sogers to Miss Bertha Challis.
Martin, the little daughter of the editor of ison.
daughter of Dr. Wm. L. Challiss, all of Atcb
tins paper, aged two years and two months. No oards.
There was a vacant space, about the width St. Louis papers please oopy.
of two planks, on the east side of the draw
span, over which the carriage had to be
The happy couple left for St. Louia yes
I terday, on their bridal trip. Mr. Rogers ii
lifted, and it had to pass up a gang-plank to , veil known in our city, and universally res
reach the top of the east abutment. The pooled. He is a young man of superior busi-
little girl was very much pleased with her ness capacity and energy His bride is onr
trip across the bridge, but does not fully of the fairest of our Atobison ladies, and
comprehend the great honor she has un'Tersally esteemed, by a large circle of
achieved in being the first to cross the Mis- f »«nds. We wish the happy pair a long.
12 * j ^ i a S e i ° £ the AtehiPOifJ>ridge. Pro«peroua and pleasant wedded life. May
- /i j0frf$$JGll ^ U e W J o u r n e y ° r l i f a t h 6 y e a l e r u P°a to-
' "* ^^ /*&&»•*•* » gether be ever as pleasant and aa full of love
§H%endeni Jor eaeh other as their bright marriage day.

Though tbe world l» wide, aud our fears arc great, i

Whatever the trial— ir large or small—
We may 'tf; Uie heart in a silent ptarer.
And we know he will bear onr trnstful call.
* O, God I il" t!wm Will "—we deemed i;Txwt
Br all the wisdom that he had give*
To fo In the nsik where these dangers met,
And DOW He will hear HU ehuM11 rtqsew
Trt bold tu eafe. H* will not forget.
Not forget, aad he cannot fail I
- Lord, if Thoa wilt. ThouftaUBlwave -*e *i*>
Us willelb even to heed our tragi;
i., Ne«dtoa plea (hat trill prevail.
IT jabtioe bears ao\ mercy matt.
Hafe I whatsoever cloud may M>W:T.
If f Jed be mine aud C am Eia :
And all I love ars in hid care.
And lie hath given me this power
7b *cmipuH9 ACOCVA end vtofik by praytr.
•'KKO KAY."
Out on the lawn in tho evening STri/i
Went Willie and ICat«. I .«nid 'which way.'
Ami tlu-y both replied, "Croquet. crnqu«t!''
The evening w.i* bright *.virh moon of May,
And the lawn M liirht aa though lit by day—
From (he window I looked to aeo—Croquet.
Ofuinllctaand balU the usual display,
Tha huop* all stood in ;ircli arn.y
And I «aid to my*cdl", soon We'JJ *eo croquet,
lint the ma)lot and tfttlU »fl unheeded lay.
And th« maid and youth, ?idt? by «ide sat they.
Audi thought to inyitdf, Is that croqu«t!'
I aa-vr the scamp—it was litcht aa day—
Put hid arm round Ufif wai-t in a loving way,
.Vnd lie seized Iter hand. 'Was //MI/ croque::
While tho red riv..T r-dli-l forgotten itWay,
Ilowhi-percd all tint a |t»vor rould -ay,
Audh<? Uissi-d hyr lips—what a queur cro-mM:
Silent they wit, 'ifMttb tho muon of May, .
Hut I know by nor blushes alw said not nuy,
And I thought tu my hoarr,\NTow thuCt croqiiut.
C3XAL00SA,. KANSAS.
3 . W. KOBEUT.S.
Editors
"F. ir. HOBEItTS.
Siitnrda.v, August 14,1875.
» ^ ^ ^ — •
—Col. Martin.of the Atchison Cham-1
pion, trundled his two-year-old duugli- |
ter across the bridge at tlint place, last j
Sunday, that she may have the honor'
in future years to say to her grandchil-
dren, as she points them with pride to i
the time-worn structure, that she was!
the first person who ever crossed it inj
a carriage. "*•*"*
th* j@mpir$.
CONCORDIA:
FIUDAY MORNING, AUG 13.
II. E. SMITH, EDITOK.
— T h o first yebiclo to pass over
tho new bridge at Atchison w a s a
small carriage c o n t a i n i n g Ruth Mar-
tin, a t w o y e a r s old daughter of the
editor of the Champion.
tyht^mX^hnmyiixn.
Atchison, Kansas, Bee. 21 1 8 8 3
A n o t h e r Letter to Santa Claus.
A letter was mailed in the Postofflce
yesterday addressed to "Santa Claus, Xorth
Pole, Atchison." It reads its' follows:
! Dear Santa Claus—Please send me aud
Grace each a wax doll with loog hair. A
doll piano and a set of doll iuqpiture.
Please send us each one of each, won't
you ? Please send Evan and Ethel each a
little doll and a doll chair, and send us ail
a bag of sugar mice and a sugar horse
I aud cow.
:
I will close, so jfood bye. From your
loving little friend, RCTIC'
P. 9.—Please send Evan A little sword i
and a large tin wagon with a pair of brown I
horses. Please send Ethel a wax doll and
a little stove with the tea kettle and every, i
thing to cook with. Send me and Grace J
each a little doll cradle and a little doll '
bed with rollers. Please send me a little |
doll bureau.
This is all so I will dose, so good bye.
J
From your little friend, HtlTJI JlattTIK. '
Atttiiaoi!, Ksusnii, -.'lurch 'il. 1*35.
.••!:•:. Martin. I
Pi", £0,
>T1 ~i
4r l\!> €tt$xh%\.
OFFICIAL STATE PAPEB.

t ' THE KANSAS WEWERA. J. K. TUCSON, Editor and Proprietor^

bATUU[^vY,"Xu(Tu"sT""llT-Tw^
T h o fust uari'iaso 'to cross ihol
Governor John A. .Martin was caUed to
new A t c h i s o n bfidjic was a small j Atchison last week to meet a lady who will
ailair, b u t i t contained Miss R u t h hereafter become a member of his house-
Martin, aged ti w
wuo years two
r u n , ageu iuu.» and -• - i , <iu,
hold.
u.
This makes fc
m i s makes four daughters and one
m o u t h s , and daughter of Col. John | s o n for t b e governor.
A . Martin, editor of tho Champion. «

—A
*
DAILY GLOBE.
®
THE PATRIOT 138 Daji P"» D»ji to come 227
Here. John A. Martin, take :; close of yon
own medicine ; although you are Governor
T a / i T I &. H A E D W I C K E , Prope. o; the State, you should take a dose of that
Saturday Evening, March 2h 1885. | MAY *< which you have so long administered to
others, to wit! John A. Martin came down
| | We congratulate GOT und Mra Martin town this morning with ft smile, on his face
• I - - -- ,_, - . » _ •_>, | i. | i , , j , A | Q iU dill Which rese.inhlcd an OJJMI barn door, and
r on Hie advent of a little dnufilite- at th While handing cigars around to the hoys
f family maiiEioD, -. . . gave out that n hounciim hoy baby arrived
at his house last night. Mother and son are
DAILY GLOBE, i
JE1GWE & CO.,
A Dew uirl haby arrived at tlie resi-
j
amgtaq.
dence of His Excellency, Governor Mar-
tin, last evening. • ^ " ^ n T K a ^ I T K a ' v 19. 1886.
- A boy hahy was horn to Gov. and
%\t CcmmmilBcalt|.' TUESDAY
Mrs. Martin yesterday morninir at 5
o'clock. _ /
TUESDAY UOKKJKU, MA11C11 !M. I8SS

A coxcomb is ugly all over with

Governor and Mrs. Martin rejoice over
the birth of a daughter at their house the affectation of a fine gentleman.
I last Friday evening. Johnson.

Form No. 1.

T H E W E S T E R N UBTIQIg T E L E G R A P H COMPAKTY,
Thin Coinimiiy TKAJVSM I T S mnl D E L I V E R S meMapes only on condition* l.mitinc it* liability, which have been assented toby the sender of the follu owing message.
Errors villi It* ituafiteflftuiiLn»tonly by rvi-futing a uieasapc back to the sending suit ion ior comparison .Mid the company will not hold itself liable for errors or
r delays m tranamU
or deliver v oi XTnr«i»i>nte<l Me»*Htrp*.' uevnnd the nmotintof tolls paid thereon, nor in anv CUSP where the claim is not presented in writing within sixty days alt» ter send in t,' the mess;.
ThUUati l * X K C P E . l T E l i .>! JlvS.Y<; E, and \»delivered by request of the sender, under the conditions named above.
THOS. T. ECKERT, General Manager.
N O R V I N G R E E N , President.
rotm SENT BY REC'D
zs~^fr9 CHECK

Beceived a tJJLoJzL
s*^\ wvKaAi /tf2- /#•#>{
c»^e^ /</* >

^^col ZT^^s, L...

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^ / Z t ^ ^ Z J u ^ k

^ ^ W ^ ^ c j g

S.

m .-—
, »".>•.-. .
Mk
<•*$&• '.•":-
:
W& * •:
• * wElS***'
*''*«HHr^'^"
j$*fgg& •rittitein :'i i • jm *; --'- • - ..-•-
_,_, ^.,__-. >i
 typho-malarial fever, ana aiinoagh tbe best
•nodical advice waa obtained, it was of no
amgiioq. avail. The fountain of life had beoa poi-
soned, and cartel? skill was futile,
At times it seemed as if the terrible fever
tti i O H S A. M i B t e , SUito? A Proprietor. wai broken, and the hearts of the anxious

f BOBL.E JL. PUESTJ8, Associate Editor.

SleSiiges, Kemaas, December 14. IC82,
relatives filled with hope. A^ain it would
return with increased violence, and the bright
anticipations of his parents were transformed
into gloomy forebodings. So it was to the
DEATH OF AttTHCB UJEIALX.ISS. g end, which cane after all unexpectedly and
The sad intelligence of the death of terrible, as it always comes to the stricken
ones. Just as the gray dawn of a winter
A B T H C E CHALLISS, which occurred at an morning faintly tinged the eastern sky, rising
early hour yesterday morning, waa re- with the cun to that brighter world beyond,
ceived with sincere sorrow by ail who the spirit of young Arthur passed from earth
to heaven. His faith was constant, and his
knew him. He was a remarkably bright reward sure. "Blessed are they who die in
and studious boy, whose youth gave prom- the Lord"
ise of a sterling manhood. He graduated To his parents in their deep affliction our
al our High School a year ago last June, citizens tender their warmest sympathy.
with marked honora, and some months The funeral will take place this afternoon
at two o'clock from the reaidencs of his
later entered the State University at Law- parents on South Fourth street. The inter-
rence. About three weeks ago he was ment will be made in Mount Vernon ceme-
taken sick, and returned to his home in tery.
Atchison, where he has since been con- Funeral of Arthur Challiss.
fined to his bed. His disease, however, The funeral of Arthur Challiss took piece
was not regarded as dangerous until a'few at two o'clock yesterday afternoon from the
days ago, when it developed into typhoid residence of his parents on South Fourth
fever, and yesterday morning he passed street, and was attended by a large number of
quietly away. His afflicted parents, who relatives and friends, including tho Uechera
watched over him with tho tenderest care, of the Central schocl, the papils of the high
have the sympathies of the entire commu- school, who wero his associates, and also the
nity in the sad bereavement which has in- following young gentlemen of the Phi Kappa
vaded their home. Pel Sociei/ of the University ,of which |he
was a member, who acted as pall bearere:
Obituary. Messrs. W. C Spangler, E. A. 3rown, W.
At five o'clock yesterday mcrniog Arthur W- Douglass, F. Q- Thcmpscn, C. E. Fcarl
Challiss, sen of Georgo T. and Imojena Chall- and W. J. Morse.
iss, died at his father's residence on South Tho remains were encased in a handsome
Fourth Btreut, after a short illness. Arthur casket, and surrounded by numerous and
was little more than seventeen years old at beautiful floral tributes, conspicuous among
the time of his death, and an unusually bright whica were a broken column and a beautiful
and promising lad. pillow bearing the initia a of his society.
He was an Atchison boy, having been born Rev. J. W. Luke conducted the services,
and raised here, and numbered among hit
friends many of our best citizens, young and and a quartette of friends rendered some
old, for his was the nature that makes friends, sweetly pathetic music. Whca these sad
not enemies. He was an ambitious and studi- rites were over, tho remains were tenderly
ous boy, too, as his career in our public borno to the hearse, .and the funeral cortage
school shows. We have the rtord before us
slowly made its way to Oak Hill Cemetery
in which is printed the excellent saluta-
tory address on the rise and progress where tho interment was made. No deaih
of cur citv schools, which he,delivered has occurred in Atchison recently that has
at the commencement in Corinthian j b;cn more generally deplored, acd the bi-
Hall on the evening of June 7th, rea7cd ones receive universal sympathy in
1881. It shows the metal of the boy and his
aspirations for the future—hopes which have their firest affliction.
been blighted by the remorseless hand of
death—aspirations for a higher life whioh
have been realized in heaven.
He went from onr high school to the State
University at Lawrence, where he applied
himself vigorously to his studies, and gained
the praise of his teachers and the good will
of hii fellow students, by his devotion to his
books and his uniform kindness and gener
ous spirit. He boarded at the residence- of
Prof. Canfield, where he was taken ill at the
same time with several other students.
Their illness wss traceable to the
! water frcm a well on the premises,
which was found to bs very impure
and highly dangerous. The other students
left for home immediately, but Arthur, not
wishing to lo:e any time, remained until
Thanksgiving, by whioh time he was reduced
so that he bad to take to his bed immediately.
Since that time he has been prostrated with

x.
 r-M^i.Miiiuli in II a imi •»,'<- ' - " — " i
IX MKBOIIIAM.
OioJ, on Wednesday night, 17th insk, ! and
J at 12 o'clock, JOHN A*., voungest son of
• FnED. ]). ond KLI.A M. MIU.H, ngod two
years, three month-., and lour day
funeral from Un> Priddt'lKM, «,' hi; will last uni'hantf"'d unlit our race has
grandfather, .JAMF.I M.\nTi\, on'iwuiias run ite cuursi'. nnd the wide lirmanent ttauafer to tho other Hie, Tlioy may say
Avenue, thi* (rfWiyi niWiWKrti nt :> is rolled lip liko a ucroli. The old, old ODO to the other:
o'clock.
Less than n wotik itg•> tho fill!" l«».V
whoso death U thui ri'CorJVd, wn« in tlio
,full bloom of health On Saturday even-
ing ho began to show mam symptom i <>i'
Iillness, and l») Monday mm-ning it w.i-.
jovident that ho had been attacked l>v
'tint I'Trihly fatal malady, ni''r)il>i',iuot|s
croup. An unusually strung and vigor-
ous child, his robust eoiiiiitulion tri-
umphed over the disease for several day?, And
and gavo tho grief-stricken parents n
faint ho]M that liU life would be spared..
But on Wednesday evening ho was much Kair
J worse, and at twelvo o'clock that night
ho passed over tho dark and silent river.
.'
.„ ..jiw—fft in •ismmmmtjp&
a resting place, has coased itTTeTttnirX than a devoted husband and wile wbo
is still til death
"Tho old. old lashion: Tho fashion
that came ill with our first garments, and
fashion—Death! Oh, thank God, till who
sec it, for that older fashion yet, of Im-
mortality! And look upon as, nugols of
young children, with regards not <|iiilo
estranged, when the swift river bears us
to the ocean."
Youth that iaaweeli'it lii-« chill, Met Mill in di Dili :
L'lrwu therlr.ir ryt-lnit upon the lendT ryes :\
Ami huali the i leading* no murmur n<i*weruih'
And allll l!.c kl*w« lint wake nu warm rep||r».
Whllc-Ilmbed he llri h.drnil youth—•onlroug.itvfa'r;
And I), for thealunihur Unit woke Iu happy day> !
0, fur tho moonlight —O, golden dream* that
were!
And (I, tho glory of life'* lung, pluus'il way-:
were Ibe (araa lilt ayea have looked upon ;
lint theae are Uaga-rd, aud wan, aud fury aad.
Sweet theInre-laugntera.and red the Up* he won;
llut here la ailanre nf llpa no longer glad.
| There Is no ore beatlful bight on
* have traveled together for half a century, Kj
and now In the evening of IiIf, the center
of tlrivoloil children anil irietula, wait their
"We'vu cllmbdl Iho bill Iheglther '
And mnny n young tiny, John,
W'va had ni' 'nnoanlihrr.
Now we innun lollor dnin John,
llut band In linml we'll eo.
And Bleep tbeuHlier atthc foot,
John Andenon, my Ju."
A h'Wt of TilemlH will wish tho old poo-
plo mnny more years of comfort and 1oy.
The following relatives of Iho venerable
couple and old Drownsvllle people were
present: Mr. nnd Mrs. F. D. Mills, Gov-
ernor Martin, wift> and daughter*, Mr. and
Mrs. n.T. Srulth, Mr. Hud Mrs. A!f. U.
Martin, Mr. and Mrs. W. C. Marliu and
daughter, Miss Isauoll Crawford, Mr. and
Mrs. K. K. Dlair, Mr. and Mrs. David f:
Au'.tl, Mr. and Mrs. 0. II. T. .lohneon, Mr.

I How many fond hope*, what deepaf-

i foot ion?, were centered in this little child,
So, part the branches, where light fall* loin: between,
Aud plant the graue.i about hi* fool and bead ;
Hera hi* loved auunier ahall wear bor anficat green,,
And wind* jtul ruffle the fringe* of hi* bed.
aud Mrs. D. C. Mowcomh, Mr. and Mrs-
3, T. C'oplan, Mr. and Mrs. .1. M. Whit*,
Mr. aud Mrs. D. C. Milner, Mr. William
I those who have children climbing upon Ill* were tha roaea waahed aweeler Iu the dew, Auld, Mr. Thotnag Uutcher, Mrs. Jose-
I their knoos nnd filling their homes with Mm And hi* tho rapture life kuowrtb nut again , phine Lashler, Mr. W. C. Smith, Mils
our* the lent if*!, lite aklca no Inngrr hlu< ,
tho music of prattling accents can un- I'or iriidrr tnnlhjhl, ami londrr fulling rilu. I'annln Wnodard, Mr. W. 11. Oiookham,
derstand; and they can also appreciate Mr. ami Mrs. J as. M. lSdmonsou,
and sympathize with the sad household ;
so stricken by this bcrenvemenl. Hut
only those, perhaps, who havo lost an
t$$>m
idolized child can fully understand and
f'Uly sympathize willi the anguish of
the parents whose lovely, boloved and
loving baby boy has drilled out, stainless
Atcbiaon, Kcnsrui, Juno 6, 1880.
S O H p It
and fearless, upon the dark and unknown
sea that rolls round all the world.'
. A tttMflrftR WKllIilXU.
PlWSSPtel:
Ho was an exceedingly attractive child, The Firtlclli Anniversary «r Mr. Dad ptiffiBm&M** lini
full of grace and manly little ways, af-
aim. JauieM ftturtlii. W0$w$MW* 1
Kw-^S45wis*SS«l?''f- ii 1:
»H''i*£sifir*'sS*vsr,4V. > " 1 '
fectionate and thoughtful beyond his Fifty years ago yesterday, In Browns-
years. During all the long hours when ville, Pa., Mr. James Martin and Miss
his young life was slowly and painfully Jano M. Crawford were pronounced bus. i
drifting away, he was patient, uncom- hand and wlfo hy Iter. Mr. Johnson, an
plaining and obedient; uudcr.standina old time Preahyterlan minister.
A golden wedding celebration is a rare TilirawriMaWrww -k•»'v
everything that was said to him; taking
retugoin his father's or his mother's arms occasion. Tho gathering last night was
whon tlio dreadful paroxysms of his dis- of a very pleasant and really joyous char-
MMSBEfflfaj*<-
ease came on, as though he found rest acter. A venerable couple surrounded
their children and grauUchildreu In the
by k
land easo tliore; and recognizing nil
n about him till tho last.
enjoyment of good health, aud having the
reverence not only of their family, but
fc* Death is always solemn aud full of sor-
all their numerous acquaintances is a sight
row, but when it takes away a little child, not soon forgotten. The company gathered
full of rosy health, and beauty, and glad- last evening at the residence of Mr F. D
ness, it is peculiarly sad. And this little Mills was made up nearly altogether ot
boy was a perfect typo of ideal babyhood: tho family and old residents of Browns-
"Mkc a lulolDg crown upon hi. (uruhr.nl ville. At tho special request of the old
Lay the 10U rloge of hi* amber hair i people there was no parade and the even-
Never gnutlo eoul Lad lovelier Caitd,
Never r u n morlul child tuoro fair. ing was passed In coruial greetings and
Like a lakn'a (-s)in quiet III Hie lurr.-l.
pleasant revival of old memories. The |
(Were llio peace and rlearneaa of hi* ey e*,- only living witness of the wedding off
l-'ull olalumornus light* nnd warm, brown th-dowa,
Dark, rot nut forgetful of lh« »Llt~.' fifty years ago is Jlisu Isabell Crawford, fc m.
the venerable sister of Mrs. .Martin, now
And now the prattling tongue is voice- eighty-flve years of age, who was present
less and quiet, the restless feet and busy last evening, full of life and energy. Mr,
little hands are at rest, the clear, iu- Martin Is elghty.three and Mrs. Martin in
nocont eye3 are closed, and tho pure and tie/ seventy.flfth" Mftr. There are no-^
fwinless, lio^rj^inLwbioh no hatred, or sopajujo^wo daugbters
hlDocrtsf;'or/ susmcion. or sin ever found ndgtif3
Cu:£il*?:v"**"
MSSSS.S.

k Cm. _ ^
jtasf, ftta
Kg"
Tir^szia ry FAIBMOUNT JMIK; w
..RMtJurnOSAJtY EEUCS IX THE PAHt—r
/ ^ TRANSPORTATION FACILITIES TOE EX-
I HIBITORS—LODGINGS FOB VISITORS.
From Our Own CorrtsvondtnL
PHILADELPHIA, Friday, NOT. SO, 1874.
One of the most important matters t o which
the Centennial Commission had to torn their atten-
tion was the site for the exhibition. Congress had
ordained that tho exhibition should be held in the
City of Philadelphia, 'and the question was in what
pa*, t of the city should It he located. The municipal
t ithorttics, including the Park Commissioners,
quickly solved the '.lieition by offering a portion of
Fiinnouut Park as i site, A conference took place
between the authorities and the Commissioners,
which resulted in the city placing at the disposal of
the commission 430 aores of ground In the south-
western portion of the nark. . This offer from the
City of Philadelphia waa thankfully accepted by
the commission, the necessary maps of the ground
and legal' documents were drawn up, and on the
4th of July, 1873, the land waa formally transferred
to the Commissioners by Hon. Morton Mo Michael,
the President of the Fairmount Park Board of Com-
missioners, with great ceremony i the large con-
course of spectators, Including several of the mem-
' bers of the President's Cabinet, the clrlo dignitaries,
and Innumerable well-wishers to the exhibition.
The site chosen runs from the foot ot G-eorce's Hill
almost to the Schuylkill Hirer, paralell with Elm
avenue', on the south, and extending north as far as
the Columbia Bridie and the Belmont Mansion, on«
of the old pre-revolutlonary country-seats which
stud the Park. The broad stretch of level meadows
known as the Lansdowne Plateau, wbleh forms the
lower part cf th" <iU, will be occupied by the three
• .i_.t»..t x—n^i- .*«!•• ' - ' * *•*!.' * "*
A LITTLE MORE ON MATRIMONY.—Sol. Mil-
ler, of the White Cloud Chief, puts in his
compliments as follows:
" M ARMED John A. Martin, of Tim
ATCHISON CHAMPION, was married, on the
1st hist., to Miss Ida Challiss, daughter of
W. L. Challiss, of that city. The Colonel's
military ardor is still so strong, that he em-
ployed Rev. Mr. Qunn to pertorm the cere-
mony. It is well for an editor always to
have a good Ida. May John A. never lose
Ms.!'
The Emporia iVeuu extends its congratu-
lations to our yet absent editor. It says:
" MARRIED.—John A. Martin, editor of
THE ATCHISON CHAMPION, was married, on
Thursday last, to Miss Ida Challiss, of that
city. May the richest blessings of this life
adorn and sweeten your household, our
brother, for many, many years, and may the
beautiful creations of hope and love in your
hearts made one never die."
Frank A. Hoot, of the Seneca Courier also
extends his compliments to his old comrade
in the newspaper business. After quoting
the marriage notice, he says:
By the foregoing it will be seen that our
old friend has at last been oaptivated by the
tender hut overpowering influence of one of
Eve's fair daughters, We wish the happy
couple a life of unclouded joy and happiness
and may many olive plants thrive around
their table to make merry and bright the
neat and attractive cottage by the riverside.
The Waterville Telegraph after publishing
the marriage notice, oompliments the happy
oouple as follows:
Col. Martin is one of the oldest and ablest
of the Kansas newspaper conductors, and
one of the most prominent citizens of Atch-
ison. The bride belongs to one of the oldest
and most highly respected families of that
city. This might be regarded as a marriage
in Kansas of high life, according to the best
meaning of such a phrase. We wish the re-
spcoted couple the very best fortune in life.
The Platte City Landmark congratulates
the Colonel as follows :
Col. John A. Martin, editor of the Atchis-
on CHAMPION, was married on Tuesday of
last week to Miss Ida Challiss, daughter of
Dr. Wm- L. Challiss, of Atchison. \Ve con-
gratulate the Colonel npon this happy event
in his life.
The Wnthena Reporter after referring to
tha marriage of tho editor says :
We congratulate our friend'Col. Martin,
and wish him and his better half all the
pleasures and good fortune that this world is
capable of bestowing.
The tlolton News greeteth the Colonel both
in prose and poetry. Hear:
OUR NEW MADE BENEDICT.—The mar-
riage of Col. Martin, of THE CHAMPION, to
the accomplished daughter of Dr. Wm. L.
Challiss, of Atchison, affords an occasion for
numerous congratulations from the Colonel's
host of friends. As a faithfnl soldier, an
able editor, and most genial gentleman, the
Colonel heartily deserves the many delicate
compliments showered upon him by the Kan-
sas press.
The greeting hand extend we!
The joys of life attend ye,
'Till ripe old age shall come.
The Glorious One befriend ye,
And oherubs' many send ye!
And dying take ye home.

HOW TBS PitlKTEES I>0 TALK ABOUT THE
MATBIMONT or one EIHTOII —Our readers
know that the Editor ha* cotnuiiiied matri-
mony. He flew off the haudle on Thursday
morning. He in a married man, and has gone
on a brief tour Bast and taken his bride
along. Unlike ye local, John is a modest
man. It's taken him a long time to get mar-
ried, and he was jined right easy. But it's
got out, and the printers congratulate him
right jollily. We know he will appreciate
the good thiugs the papers say about
matrimony iu general, and his matri-
mony in particular. Iu hie absence, we
therefore take the liberty of telling our read-
ers how the printers do talk about the event
which has left THE CHAMPION office tempora-
rily in charge of " j e local" and "yedevil."
Our genial evening neighbor, the Patriot,
does it up in the superb style following:
MAEBIEP.—On Thursday. June lBt, 1871,
at the residence of the bride's parents, by
Rev. E. Gunn, Col. Jno. A. Martin, editor of
THE CHAMPION, to Miss Ida Challiss, eldest
daughter of Dr. Win. L. Challiss, all of this
city. No cards.
There now, another editor gone I but his
exit from the ranks of the bachelor army
was not uulooked for. Although he has
evinced much obstinacy in the business
which has culminated in his complete cap-
ture, his friends anticipate that ere the
close of the honeymoon, be will be able to
drill in the ranks of the grand army of ben-
edicts according to the most approved rules
of discipline, without any inconvenience
whatever. Thus, as Miles O'Riley hath
said :
" The; fall, my friend, tlie young, the proud,
The gay, the festive c u m fall—
An orange wroatb, instead of abroad,
A ring in lieu of minnie ball.
The man who faced a battle's roar
Now yields to ruffled cbemisetts,
And lion bearta bow down before
Some twilled, frilled pair of pantalettes,"
The Leavenworth Times thinks the wed-
ding caused the suspension of THE CHAM-
PION for one day, but our devil says he would
never permit such an affair to interfere with
the regular issue of our paper. The Timet
says:
" THE ATCHISON CHAMPION is one of the
oldest papers in the State, and has always
appeared upon our table with creditable
regularity—until Thursday last. We didn't
get any then, and were kept in total igno-
rance of the reason therefor until yesterday,
when we found out all about it as follows:
On Thursday, June 1, 1871, at the resi-
dence of the bride's parents, by Rev. E.
Gunn, Col. Jno. A. Martin, editor of THE
CHAMPION, to Mies Ida Challiss, eldest
daughter of Dr. Wm. L. Challiss, all of this
oily. No cards.
So that's what's the matter with Col. Jne.
A. Martin. We extend our best wishes and
hope the new life just opening may never be
clouded."
&,
m-
(3)
The Commercial punishes the Colonel in the
words and figures following, to-wit:
"Col. Jno. A. Martin, of THE ATCHISON
CHAMPION, was married on the 1st inst,, to
Miss Ida Challiss. Courageous beyond a
doubt, during tbo war, he has proven him-
self doubly so to marry in the oalorio days
of June. May he be happy, and may the
beautiful bride, that was Challiss, never-
more be chalice to the lips of THE CHAMPION
man."
The Call does him up in regular printer's
style. Hear:
Col. Jno. A. Martin, of THE CHAMPION,
was married yesterday at the residenoe of
the bride's parents, to Miss Ida Challiss,
eldest daughter of Dr. Wm. L. Challiss, of
Atchison. A printer captured by a gaiter—
u Boldier surrenders at the beok of a chignon
—gone to grass by the wave of a fan—" rat-
tled" by a frill—" locked up" without mal-
let or quoin—and, we hope, without pi or
squabble in the distant future, thus may
these " forms" pass into the realms of the
Great Master Typo of the Universe. Thus,
as Miles O'Riley hath said :
"Tbey fall, my boy, the young, the proud,
The gay, the festive cusses fell—
An orange wreath, instead of shroud,
A ring in lieu of minnie ball.
Tne man who faced a battle's roar
Now yields to ruffled chemisettes,
And lion hearts bow down before
gome twiUed, frilled pair of pantalettes."
The Bulletin talketh in this kind of a way i
WEDDING.—The gallant Col. Jno. A. Mar-
tin, editor of THE ATCHISON CHAMPION, has
crowned his brilliant record with auother
victory , this time a love conquest. After a
long and admirably conducted siege, the fair
Miss Ida Challiss, of Atchison, surrenders
unconditionally, and promises to love, honor
and obey—an editor.
It requires a great deal of nerve upon the
part of a lady to stand up, and promise be-
fore heaven, that she will love, honor, obey
and live with an editor, but love surmounts
all obstacles.
It is understood that the Colonel wooed
a long while, but the prize, however, was
worth contending for. The bride is the eld-
est daughter of Dr. Wm. L. Challiss, of
Atchison, and is a young lady gifted with
personal beauty, endowed with rare culture
and social accomplishments, and just the per-
son to enliven an editor in times of depres-
sion. We beleve the bride and bridegroom
design passing the midsummer weeks at Idaho
Springs, Colorado. They have the warmest
wishes of the Bulletin, for a future of unal-
loyed happiness.
&
To scu .the Bui-Ui-(ili-iii no one lias e'er affrighted Here, tucked away in happy plight, in tbls.congealal
> I K S D K S T S E EXCURSION', been, corner,"- ' ' -•'"
Of all this goodly ceuipany, eo gloriously gathered in. Is seen the welcome form and "phis" of the ever-
luiarlbed l e the K I U I U Preaa-Uanff. For though a lively animal, and sometimes given to blooming Honniiu-'^ v-*1* • '•-".i
fight. Ton can't mistake him, if you would, by any luckless
Its horn exalted only is when It thinks it sees the :
I t OSI OT « » * £ " - chance, >HM'f? , -' 't.
right. For bis omnipresent watchword Is, "Two dollars,In
In olden.tlnies, so we eje tild, the wise men journey- The right It may at times mistake—t will ne'er desert jidwrnctp"'" '..". Jjftr,. **•:: y.
lag came "V^;l>"\ — •. 'J* Its work. And hore sits "one, to meiSory dear, or orthographic
From out the east to leak more light on Bethlehem's But ever yield obedience to the orders or its BURKS. fame, ' .'.'.. iO •" '•• •* ".;i • >
etar-llt plain. " Here 'mong the black republican sheep are found The great chief of the Wyandottes, and Tmba is hi,
The wisdom of the world * u ' theirs, not free from the goats suspicious, name. •_.-.. : . u • itf,«*' -' • • ,-J :\:'r,i-
earth's alloy t . _ And yet, perhaps, the difference Is one only just fac- Ton can find him out without delay, ho'we'er conceal-
That which they tought was undeflled—"glad tidings titious ; ed be kevifit :i.'.V'..i-'' .-.V •'•'' -^'- *.',«, ,--..f|
of great Joy." For did we wist our humble names the historic page For -his hwiches, hwens, his hwitbers and hweres,
This gained, all round from iea to sea, from land to to illume, will betray him sufficiently. •:.«,>-
land afar, Who conld the task more fitly claim than a PstsooTt If, on this morn, the clouds shall bend with moisture
They spread abroad the wondrous tale of Bethlehem's or a Hum! to the ground, > jl.^. • •*' . . ''•.
rites star. To them the unchallenged right descends In a con- Wo yet may hope to see "0u> Sot." fling sunshine all
And ever tinco, ai time h u aped on rapid wing away, tinuous line, around I. , •' :
• -f. • r . .,
Leaving the Impress of new truths on every plastic Anil the glory of their ascestorfjiniay yet around His is an orb which naught.obscures—which shines
tliein shtno!
day, by day and night, V ••.. fni.
The cnurae of wisdom e'er has been, through all the
world's unrest,
From Orient to Occident, from East to teeming West I
Though time and trouble may have dulled the Trib-
une's gleaming STEER,
His place is gracefully supplied by the red-legged
cavalier;
And .many a leaser planet wheels in his reflected
.' . light."",./'„ .' ,.' tfi.'.
But we must forbear these lightsome words lest a
. .... " [\[- m -; .-!*
And so our wise men, gathered now from sections Afonitor'i just reproof, .V . , , ...'.".'
rarylng wide. For life and warmth aud rigor true its readers ne'er Should make us regret the fated hour when we wove
From cities, towns, from north and south, from plain shall beg, this fanciful woof.
and river side, While its columns yield to the master touch of the Now, let us away to the reglou wild, whose mountains
Betake them from theae fertile fields, with wealth of S** ever-ready OnEoi:. kiss the skies, '.
harvests crowned, And If a Champion
CI we need, he's here at onr cora-1 Not forgetting e'erwhlle the tribnte dne to that giant *$m
To where the mountain summits are in frosts forever mand, enterprise, V ' •
bound. His martial tread, sereuely Ann, resounds on every Whose brain and wealth and genius bold made possl-
Blast pilgrims! thalr's the happy task to spread the hand. • hie this day, • 1
light di vino, The crash of battle come and gone—his warrior itsg And the land with countless blessings crowned
Which springs, responsive to their touch, from wis- he furls, through which Its pathway lay.
dom's glowing mint. And his only conquests now are among the Aichis- 0, ever may this thoroughfare Trade's favorite high*
Disciples of an earlier age, no scrip, no purse bad onian girls. way be, tail ec . ! • : . . .
they, Oh, may the time not distant l.o (this wish is ours,be From the Paclfic'e qulot shore to the coast of the £ j
But yet they lingered not upon their Heaven-directed certain), stormy seat! ,-• -^jjr.t. %:-. b :•• ••.-' i ' • ;
way. When aome fair maid shall prisoner take the long- Long, through this''.glorious,medium, may our ad
And so are these of goods and gold no ample store — defiant MARTIN ! „- venturers bold •' ,H\'-•' 1 'r • .t
possessed, Tis necessary, too, to make some Record of the Exchange their surplus products for Colorado gold!
But how contentedly they "run their faces" in the journey,.
west 1 So HIRER enters, pen in hand, the intellectual tour- A PSJUU FOR -V£1T TEARS EVE-
No aigh of penury is heard to sound the word "alas!" ney.
Upon his venerated bead, like a living halo, glow A friend stands at the door;
But each sage resolutely grasps his talismanic "pass." in eitherfadhl-closedhand
The lowering form of RCT.YOLDS looms, resplendent The genius-sparks emitted from that active hraiu be- Hiding rich guts, three hundred and three score;
in the van, low. .. , ~ , Waiting to strew them daily o'er the land,
The " Herald of Knnsns " 'neath his arm, a pencil in And honest CuiiKixas, never far the "stager's"coarse Even as the aower,
his palm; behind— Each drops he, treads it in, and passes by;
With microscopic eye he notes the landscape's vary- Defouded by a conscience clear and Independent it cannot be madefruitfultill It die.
ing line, mind— . O good Now Year, we claap
Audnowandthonhis"point"InscrilK>!ahleroglyphic Betakes him to the railway bonrne, In eager haste Thla warm ahnt band of thine,
sign; t' Inhale Loosing forever, with half clgh and half gasp,
These sent.Iwtimes by Uncle Sam, to grace the Jour- **• life-Inspiring odors of a Rocky Mountain gals ! That which from ours falls like dead finger's twine;
Thus far, dear Muse, your task has been most rea- Ay, whetherfierceUs grasp
nol'i page, Haa been, or gentle, having been, we know
First vex the eye of foreman bold, and make the sonably light, _ ,;••••
Bat now, alas I a beavlt/r one breaks darkly on year
. That It was blessed: let the old year go. Pfl
printers rage.
sight.- »•• "•! •••• O New Year, teach us faith I
His ways are ways of pleasantness; his paths to glory The road of lire is hard;
lead, What form is this, oiifre of shape aud monstrous girth
When our feet blend, and sconrglng winds us scathe,
For Virtue sits enshrined within his firm's illustrious around, Point thou to Him whose visage.woe more marred
bead! Whose footsteps fall like barrels of salt from garret Than any man's, who salts
With Tiucata's learning,^ deep and rich, the ballast liicb to ground? "Make atraight paths for your feet," and to the op-
Era ne'er will fail, . . . Whose respiratory organs work, like a blacksmith's pressed,
IS* And REYNOLDS' "wind" will always fill the wide-ex- bellows, free, vv -• • "Come ye to me. and I will give you rest''
*r-Y' And emit a sonnd resembling much' the swell of a Yet hang some lamp-like hope
¥*•-•' panded sail!
Cynics are ever telling that the times degonerate are, distant seal . '*••'!' Above this unknown way.
Renowned for blodd and violence, for tumult aud for 'Tis PaoUTT I big of head and heart, with ample bowr Kind year, to give our spirits freer scope.
els warm. , T,; . , And our bandastr«1ig«i to work while it is da}'.
war; But If that way must slope
But however dark and shaded they may draw his- For evory suffering brother man, and every maid for-
lorn I Tombward,' 0 bring before our fading eyes
toric lines, The lamp of life, the hope that never dies.
There are thousands who find pleasure in the columns Ah, yes! 'tis he the Ponderous one, In'the glow of r
buxom health, Comfort our souls with love,—
of onr Timet, Love of all human kind; *B
While there are those who think, perhaps, Its touo is Whose stalwart genius pioneers the peorloss COMMON'-
Love special, close. In which, like sheltered dove.
somewhat milder, ' WULTBl
Each weary heart Its own safe nest may find;
Since be who long has held the helm 'has, turned a What though Topeka londly boasts touxli'c primacy ? And love that turns above
wandering WILDES (' Emporia yields not up the palm, bnt clings to her Adoringly; contented to reslsn .
Yet It lacketh not of grace nor fire, the beauty born rivalry. ; V All loves, If need be, for the love divine.
of woman, And though her StOTtui has not swelled to mas Friend, come thou like a Friend,
While o'er Its varied'interests presides the handsome todonie bounds,' And whether bright thy face,
Lowatax. i ...'. The Cassiuses are many whom his unctious flesh con- • Or dim with clouds we cannot comprehend,
-...• founds.'1 We'll bold opt patient hands, each In his plaoe,
From off financial rocks this craft by sturdy bands is And trust thee to the end.
The time's, not distant far, perhaps, when shall meet
•"»"• • Zat. ."••"•• ••'<••< In loving troth
Knowing thou leudest onward to those sphere*
And so insidious, foe. has scaled the decks while Where there arc neither days nor months nor years
The giant of the Neosho and the Topeka Behemoth I

mmm
MjfJXhe P r e s s , i*Hf«n
jicjfiv .J • ••,'mti' j 1 » ' ?
$flfc«r«<r T>y Mr. Henry.; A. CMtlej
iHfflSfo^lfiutJ I7ro#h, at the Mlnne-
ota/-Editorial Convention, 'at St. Paul,-Jan.
Then tbeVingea' Angels of Light had come,
Whllantng.tlio dawnln their clustered flight, ,-,/'
JWld^rWr^May'-beatnS *« iron the night
That shrbadad wild chaos in starless gloom—
"roinfibe carved heavens a abaft of dam*
jS'do>r»,''e^hVpriB»al ledge to clears, "
ft* "Whence Founts of knowledge swift-upstream,
libera drudge-doomed mortal* their thirst may itlll,
And fold in Jh.elr."boioms the beams that thrill
,eJr IlfMOTvlsion, and round them will .
•\ i,- Celestial liveries.WMTO. • ; •,, . t <• .: •
|ml|fd-flsuia is tbe beautiful Art.—
~'Jt $onde"rful Art, U'r'-
• " ff jh'ffi^ffii'nr'Hill"«"t'* gossamer whiteness dots.
• j"" E-Witi ay ai bo led ebadowe of viewless thoughts,
niack u tbf falon'i fadalenataln ;—
Or like a flowering garden,~nsornIng dewed,
I' JUlgtldeqed.and ailTered,,ond many-liued". "„"
! >Yfib the data ihat tbe prism splits out of the sun.
•iLp :> Great lights burn dim,
. # ; Ai through her corridor* Time's glante treat,—
, A tbeuaaad lilatrea haloed round their beads,—
iNf ' ' / V ' I In march sabllme;—• Vi'
'.'I .WWW theyjkindle the. skies.wilh, their affluent
*&& K splendors,
,Jf And atartle the air with'thoir -cloud-bunting tbun-
* •, • den. '
OTV-^V; .' -tf- • • '-'•
These History embalms. And Song, lovejumed,
Wreathes hearts' bloome intofieatoonarose-perfumed;
^ Twines hearta' corda into tuneful JBolian bars,
f-11 To float on the spraya of musi: that curl
I' O'er the mirroring ripple ol;eeas, of pearl, '-;. : *,.
And Science, nature'a mystic loree , And so I weur heron my heart
1 . . f Explores,— - • -,"*,-.«;•
i. l u th'e deep.granlte beda, or rip among Ihe stirs,
i .'•' She delTei—or soars.
£F« (VeiKjCi-'ti c !.• .•• rifUl.
•With the myrtle of Song crown the marble ef lUiry.
•Tberi ir'akejjt.tojile witli au anthem of glory.
•- -Ik Tune its soul to'fcbe breatbioga of God if you can,
- .'. ( ,And_iti heart to .the hope-throbbing pulses of man.
.Siore'lti bralnwUb'tboJearningofall tho yearaJ <
.^jSfiS (* ID the glint of.its eye fix a world-searching mirror.
Clothe its -torjgueWith tbe thunders of-all tbe epberea
Aud ite arm with morejhan the tempest's power.
Find a name that ite origin will expresa,
.Springing, fiill-armored from Wisdom's crest," .,
w .Or»all It,—its true o»e—THt-Tiils! ~.'!
•'>; •sat On a pedestal, carved with the legends (rand,
Luilting Panst.'tp.hjm, of our own bUsfland;'. Vi
fflt& -' f P Who plucked the plames from tbe lightning's wing,
Tbeuo-night bis natal feast we bring,— , .
15Smr- <* Immortal 1'aisiu.f I—let it stand,
.'- a"* It»flflgaratoyiag with tbe etringa,. . . . . . i
•...;, .J: '"That bear'the earth-engirdling flash,— '"
" - • -1 Or bathed in pearly miit that singa
"iC^i i * -Ur.?at epics in the piston's clasbi— ti ,, „, I
hg& '-jf:-Vir ffal! -. Or Tocai:with the rythmic click' ... -?:,',/ -1
- Jv* ,
-•'•A* a*.-' That marks the growth ef stately: pages,
c j g Wi(Si*aurely u the pendulum's tick.,--...,. rj . i.i
-.--- vi"- i - T l b : ? ? ^ 0 ' " " cad>nced march of agissL.'- ' ,
j&*
•HP? .'*^f Break out/y» pralrierWa brighter bloom ;->-r-'-- T"
.i'^iDeepenjyour.parple.lya cloud curtained dome t—
• $ ! N --/* '•'•>. Glow, mouataiu and teal with a holier ahees,
•'Vjri* 3krweleomethia monarch's •ochallenged reign, ' —'
*4?S»H'
F ^ ^ T O e l e r r o r s fall before his gaae,
fsj And throned oppressions bond and tremble,"
U /;
SC/r! ifi :
- rv JAnd sin, nolonger, in hut blaxe;
i Can virtue's shining form ditsemble.
"•'
Still as a seraph in a dream,
™. aoul
.jit f ./<..,*.•'•!>> Tokphere-Htdeatinyis born, "•"•
lie dreariest hillside wastes unroll ''*
In broldered wares of grape and corn.
y,.«i'-'-*-<*>r>;.; He scans true worthwith faultlese eye,
- ,-And blatons on hie pillara high t/~\
lit royalwtitlo to renown j — -
And then, with plenteous hands sifts 'down
'• Upon a host with humbler claim ••
t „ **?J l t!HP ta « diamond-duster fame.
. g*?! 1 <"»tlMt^areof this potent king, ?:i ' . . .. '
„"»J*.W^Or J B_**,^ T «;»-T 0 "«"ice brings, r,
S P S K A S ^ B H J M M ! * * ."" Pleasures you taate".
j5u?fl!£w^ ^ ^ ^ your arm round her
fiat idwhJsr^.youilbre^eoreSs'lntbheTeir: '
•*&
uQuige-antio* youx-atation you tak^ - <•
And proudly cry out, •
T-r
SEINE JPAMOVX.
BY r. T. rALOIlATB. '.
Cloao H the itara alonp the sky
Tbe Sowers vera in the rueaa,
The purple heart, and golden eyo,
And orlmsou-flutulng weed:—
And ouch one slgh'd as I went by
And louch'd my garment preen,
And bade me wear her ou lay heart
And take her fur my Queen
Of Love,—
And take her for my Qnoen.
And one In virgin v h l t o was drest
With downcast gracious liend ;
And one unvcll'd a burning breast
Mid smiles ot rosy red-: ' " Wo know the practiced finger,"
All rainbow bright, with laughter light,
They flicker'il o'er the green,
Each whispering I should pluck her there
And take her as my Queen
Of Love,—
And take her us my.Queen.
Bnt sudden at my feet look'd up
A little star-like thing.
Pure odor in pure perfect cup,
That made my bosom sing.
T w o s not tor size, nor gorgeous dyes.
But her own self, I wocn.
Her own sweet self, that bade ni6 stoop
And take her for my Queen
Of Love,—
And take her for my Queen.
Now all day long and every day
Her beauty ou me grows.
And holds with stronger sweeter away
Than lily or than rose;
And this cue star outshines by far
All in the meadow green;—
And take her fur my Queeu
Of Love.—
AH ATHENIAN wt*Klt".
ST THOMAS sasiserrox KaOar/LaT.
\» Albans, are 111 sua ef fame had set,
'•Midit pomp aed show Ilia gazing erowds wire eaet,
intent firi»»ir upon something oaw.
The Malic wooden ofihe itage te tiew.
He here the wide extended ch-coi epreadi,
la gathered rank's, in sea oftiviog heads,
Ranged in ekm order, riling tew m Vow,
"The void arena elaima Ibe space belew.
Tbe aaats were filled: bot, ere the show began,
A slreneer entered—'twas an aged man;
A while he tooglil a plaee, with aipeol mild:
The polieheri yonng Alheniam sat and smiled,
Eyed his eonraiion with s sidelong glance,
bat kepi their seats, nor rose on bis advance.
Oh! for a bnraingtdosh of deeper hoe,
To mark (he ehame of that selP-iItttenU erewi
siow nnor ih» produce of fair Lesrning's tree,
That bears no fruits ef iweel hsmilily!
The growth of arts and science! hew vain,
In hearts that feel net for another*! pain!
Hot an the Spartan yootb. wheie simple eehoel
lnelflled the plain bot salntary rule „ Her angel form hue left me now,
Of klndaaii, and whose lioneit seals preferred
' , I feel her hand upon ray brow—
Troth te display—perfoimanee le a word.
These Spartan youths had their appointed plaee,
Apart from the Athenians, distinguish*! rase,
And rose with ene accord, intent to prove
To honored age their duty end their love;
Nor did a Spartan youth his seat resume,
Till tbe eld man found due and filling room.
Then earns the sentenoe ef renewof and pfaleo,
Stamped with the sternness of the ancient deys;
For. steading full amid the assembled crowd,
The rrnershle stranger cried aloud:
'"The Athenlens leare. their duly well, bat lol
The Spartans practice what the Athenians know."
The-words were good, and in a vlrlgeui easse;
They jastly earned e nation's glad applause;
But we hare sorer words of precept glveo
~fe God's own book; the word lhat earns from Heaven-
'** He kind, be eoorleooi, he all honor shown:'' -***
*' Ssek others' welfare rather than trn'ne own.""
..J^.^V'."'**'
'. •' •••• ^•;(ftSs*E-i»t->' • * -'go*'
1
^-^s^ABS^SeL :
THE DEAD BOUSE.
lir 1. B. LOWELL.
•3fe I
Here once my step was qmckened,
Here beckoned the opening door,
And welcome thrilled from the threshold
To the foot It hod known before. k
A glow came forth to meet me
From the flame that laughed In the grata,/
And shadows advance on the celling, •. A,y w . . '
Danced blither with mine tor » mate. '-
" 1 claim yon, old friend," yawned tbe arm-chair,'
"This corner, you know, is your seat;" •• - ^
" Best your slippers on me," beamed the fender,
" I brighten at touch of your feet."
Said the books. " that seoms like brain ;*
And the shy page rustled the seoret
It had kept till I came again.
Sang the pillow, " My dowh*6no« quivered • V
Ou nightingales' throats that flew ••'-.»
Through moonlit gardens of Haflz .' - ••
To gather quaint dreams for you."
Ah me, whore the Past sowed heart's ease,
Tbe Present plucks rue for us men I
I ooino back: that scar unhealing
Was not in the churchyard then.
a*
But, I think, tbe house Is unaltered,
I will go and beg to look - ,
At the rooms that wore once familiar
To my life as Its bod to a brook.
Unaltered! alas for the sameness
That makes the cbaugo but more I
'TIs a dead man I Bee in the mirrors, i'
fa, 'Tis his tread that chills the floor I ;• I
To learn such a almplo lesson . ••,'
Need I go to Purls and Borne,
That tbe many make the household.
But only one the home t
T w o s Just a womanly presence, '' , .
An Influence unexprest, "' -<<
B u t a rose she had worn, on my grave-sod
Were more than long life with the rest I
'Twas a smile, 'twas » garment's rustle, '' •'
T w o s nothing that I can phrase,
But the whole dumb dwelling grew oonsoloaj,
And put on her looks and ways.
Wore it mine I would close tbe shutters,
Like lids when tbe life is fled.
And the funeral Are should wind it, r
it*
This corpse of a noma that is dead. <
For it died that Autumn morning ,- ,
When she. Its soul, was borne
To lie all dark on the hillside
That looks over woodland and corn.
-
,,'
:'':.'fH-
OH, YES! WE'LL SENG THE OLD
SONGS.
Oh, yes! we'll sing the old songs,
We sang long years Bgb,
Though lips may spenk in fullering tones,
And voices ivnlsjn i h;W;
ill mentor)', then, » i ' l l lvnndtr hack,
Through day? ofjtiy .inil pain,
And, though bur eyei grow dim with tears,
We'll sing those songs again.
Oh, yes! we'll sing the old songs,
A mother's voice has blessed!
Wh'n nestled in my tiny bed.
She laid me there to rest.
With each familiar strain, •
.Oh! sing those songs 'again.
S S When death has closed our eves in rest,
I And freed from Worldly care,
No more our voices ming'le here, r
In sacred song sntl prayer;
Then free from earth, we'll meet above,
Where naught but joy shall reign—
And there in heaven, with happy voice, •
We'll sing those songs again.-
~AB£LEWCli: A S O N N E T . ' ~
BY JOHN 0. SAXE.
Absent from thee, beloved, I am pent
In utter solitude, where'er I be j
Mywasted pleasures give me small content,
Wanting the highest—to be shared by thee.
Beading—I deem I misemploy my eyes
Save In the sweet perusal of thy own;
Talking—I mind me, with enamored sighs, Mi
What finer use my moving lips have known,
When—as some kind orchestral Instrument -
Takes up the note the singer failed to reach—
Uncounted kisses rapturously lent •, - '-- .
Her finished meaning to my halting speech;.
Kememb'ring this, I fondly yearn for thee, .'. •
And cry, "OTime!Haste!t>rtngmylovetoi
*••> i-j}••••<.•;•- '•^'•9l"
 m e
Till? HOOK NTHP.
tpr'^-v^
••:'. JZ ::
IIV Hi C. STCIIMAN
:tf.A I*. »*| •In- ((.nlon-n'O meeting llirowh at 1 i.'t,
\» e M M arm ml tne ve«l ry walled
'|ii M*> ilie tTrlt eoine irh>|iinjf pmr,
I,ike snpw biuls wuitim; 10 IK- :II itcd.
)em Snl liiav r he Ni«t I.'Mis ,'lie ivall
jit level niio-ttrr HuMie- linen,
'I Imu I <l()>|if <l before tbein iiJl,
Y\ III) \mtftH la H* me Rill llir mitli-n.
Ilnl ii", *=!•«- blushed ami look my Arm!
\\ r li I IIK- oil! 'nl^s (will! i!"' liisbwuy,
Ami -darinl toward I tic Maple Farm
.viengfl kind of Invert, • iiy-wav.
I ruii'l r( member whal We aaM,
• | w »r nothing wnrili :i n'-nir or nlory:
y d H'Uf rwlp l'"ib ''.v which >ve sped
•..-iliietl all trnii'lormcd ami in a glory.
•I in- *nov M a* cii*('' benetiMi tinr lvc\
'ihi- union wnsjMll. -in- liiliin wcreglemning;
In n,i,»l -:i!nl li|i|ii-i i-lieih red, nivci-t
|li-i'l!ii i Wifli yniin, Miu lu-jltli wai luiiiiiir.'
•IIM- lit.11? Iiari'l (-!!i*lili- her mud—
11 M-nlpicr, if yon i-onlil lull ninlil i-.!
•' MI liul ilv touched niyi.-iekct Hill'.
.,.' ' i,i LcfO il warm I bail in hold it.
•In bavi- lurWilli mr tbnr alimc,
• i wit* love, ami liar and rriilflMl bleuie I:
\i t.i«i \H-reached lui- I'HI-v.iiju iloiii-
' \\ |H*S Ibat iV-llcii'ltH .iinirni • M,II il.
flu- i.ltiiiA ih>rrin.-jl*-t" from JIM- l.rnvv,
Miii villi a " l l i a n t vca, \'ed," «tl»-«libl."l;
)lnt i i! 1 knew fbe uriilcrsl.in.l
w |i)i wb«t a Anting wnu t trembled.
,HI(| lui.-n-il kind! v ovcrheii I,
. , union wa» Mowlv |Kepin;; through i:.
Y, i bid i n f-ior, an K ir N»M,
"I'lim-. 1 ow or BM'url (In it! -'a i.';'
Si, lifts til1 Mini bad nnlv '-.mum
' 'i in- kitia oi mother ami of skier,
I'.ni, vcnM-how, fullii|ioii her nnn
nveet, r »'>i darlln;.'mutt'i—I M««*iJ h-r.
iviliap* 'MM* 'loyi-li love, ; I-I, «ii'l,
' il. l!«llfll woman! Weavy liivprl
1%i f,\i t-nc* more ilinl Jn-Mi, Willi (In-ill
|'i) ifin'—bill alio IMN -in- lii'f i.|<r.
i w i \-liin:'. Jnr l-'iliniiir.i.
, COWAEDS IHC0££IGI3L£.
.. . /- , • t Like a wild lawn you lied .
A FABLE O F U FONTAINE.
- • BT JOBK O. SiXS.
A ahepberd, to his rrief and coat,
So many of hit abeep bad loat
llv hungry wolves, that he was fain
Hieir depredationa to restrain
lry aome contrivance, new or old,
IV save the remnant of his fold.
Krflectinc deep and long, tho man
}{«iolved to try a novel plan;
Says be, "My silly aboep to teach,
I'll try the virtue of a speech,
Kiplaining bow by eloso array
IVkeep the hated wolf away.
The man conceived (sagacious thought.')
tiat if the fools were better taught
? n sell-defense, beyond a doubt
they'd fairly put the foe to rout,
m with thla he called theflocktogether,
iVi'iu playful lamb to wanton wether.
An J straight harangued them for an hour
With wondrous eloquence and power,
las* Tki- burden of his speech was this:
"My woolly friends 1 (alasl I miss
Vroui this assembly many who
W «it) very dear to me and you 1)
Attend!—and hearken well, I pray.
To all that I am going to say.
To you. many subjects, I would ahow
The ready art to 'scape the foe;
•Tijsiiuply this: Whene'er you see
Tk» wolf approaching, do not flee,
A» is your wont, but oravely stand
\t one united, solid band.
Yourfirmarray the wolf will scaro
Ami set him running.like a harel"
With one accord the sealous sheep
The offered counsel vowed to keep,
And thanked the friend whose sterling sense
Vrefared them now for self-defense.
Bat saark the sequel I ere the light
Of day had faded into night.
Than came again the fearful cry,
••A wolf I" whereat the cowards fly.
Although 'twas but the shade of one Bow the beat state to know J—It la found out
frWected by the setting sun I
WOEAL. Like the belt woman
J Satan will ont 1 'Tis all in vain
, fa bend her course against the grain;
.' Ttatfh, preach, exhort—do what you will,
; I» towards—they'll be cowards still I
-
1..CATB 0? ABAGWiftitfPSvt
7 "PSALM OF LI
• *•' r l * - ^
WirftvftNt'-l »yy> the», Catc} !wi»fl3
Jjotvn at I-IJC orclianl^atc
Of^aiajjlcn,
I fnlt I nVer before • ,;
•SiW one «ij f.,ir :i-»tor.(2)
1 fijai'ii .I'll never more
Sec llifte i;','.iin.
J SIOJJ'II Nud-)(uJt«il at thee,
My C mtrnll, luckily.' J
itench'it not ihy u-.,i-, thoiijfh we
Stooil there BO near:
Wliiie from lliv lijia, a attain,
Btrft as ilm Kiiuimnr rain,
S;ul as a lover's |'-iiii,
Ke!l on iuy car.
|H'« liearil tlic lark in 'Julia,
'J'lm liarp'a wild jihititivu tune.
'1'lic tlirnuli, thai ;;ye t.io aooii .
(iivoi o'er his (train:
I've licani, in ImsliM ilnliiilit,
'J'lic mellow horn at nielli
Wakingtlif» echoes lijjlit
Of WildUcb Lcin;(3)'
• Let the dead Fast bury it=- dead !
13ut ueitlicr cc-hoiiij; bom,
Nor tliniab ti;>n:i the '.liu.n,
Nur l.iik at early morn
Hyimiin.iT III air,
Nor hai|iur'a lay ilhiiie,
Jv'ie ivitcb'il litis heart nf mlno .
Like that sweel voice of thine,
That eveiuiit; lucie.
• i |.
Ami when some nii-lliu^, dear,
Kell on thy llit'liing ear.
Von tlmu^iit your Inoiber near,
And naun-i! his name,
I coiiltl not answer—though
As luck would Imvu it ao,
Ilia name .-mil mine, you know,
Wore both ihe same—
flenring no aimn'rio,' aouud,
You glanced in ilmibf around,
Wiib timid look, and found
It was not la-;
Turning away your head
And blushing rosy red,
Fur. far from we.
The swan upon the lake,
The wild rose in the brake,
The golden clouds that make
The west their throne.
The wild ash by the stream,
The full moon's silver beam,
The evening star's soft {rlcsni,
S'liii.im? alone ;
The I il v robed iu A'hlU—
All—afl are fair and bright;
But ne'er on earth was siyht-
- 6o bright, so fair. , . -
As that one glimpse of thee
That 1 caught then, ma chrec,(i)
It BLole my boa it from me.
That evening thi,-*.
And now you're mine alone,
„Tha,t heart is all uiy own—
That heart, that ne'er hath known -1
A flame before,
That form, of mould divine., . j 'i
That snowy hand'of thine, I *
Those locks of gold are mine: '
..,^For evermore. .'• "
Was lover ever seen
As blest as thine, Caitlin ? •'.•;'
Hath ever lover been
More fand more true F
Thine is my e.v*ry vowi
For ever dean as now!
' jfityeen of liny heart be thou I
't—th nt least ulked about.
, SCUIIiEB.
Tell ninot In idle jingle
"Marriage, is an empty dream !
For the girl ia dead that's single,
And girls are not what they seem.
Life Is real I and life is earnest I
Single blessedness a fib!
'•Man thou art to man returnost!
Has been 6poken of the rib.
Not enjoyment, and not_ sorrow,
Is our destined end or'way ;
But to act that each to-morrow
Finds us nearer marriagc-doy.
Life la long, and youth Is fleeting,
And onr hearts, though light and gay,.
Still, like pleasant drums, arc beating ',,
Wedding-marches nil the way.
In the world's broad field of battle.
Iu the. bivouac of life,
Be. not like dumb, driven cattle I
Be a heroine—o wife !
-. . Trust no future, however pleasant,
Act—act to the living l'resent I
Heart within and hope ahead I
.
Lives of married folks remind us
We can live our lives as well,
And, departing, leave behind ns.
Such examples as shall "tell."
Such examples, that another,
Wasting time iu idle sport, *
A forlorn, unmarried brother.
Seeing, shall take heart and court.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With n heart on triumph set;
St ill contriving, still pursuing,
And each oue a husband get.
MY LOTE IS COMDfdT^
-m
BT OBAS. D. LiEET.
The weary winter days are past,
f And now the robin's voice 1 bear;
And glorious la the budding year,
With leaf andflowretcoming fast.
Tbe warm rain falling on the earth.
The aunahiae following the atorm.
Tbe south wind, blowing soft and warm,
Bespeak a new creation's birth.
Tbe trees no longer leafless stand.
But with tue wealth they had before
Of leaf and blossom covered o'er.
When Summer reigned along tbe land.
Last week the tulip paled apace.
The violet died the week before,
> nd now beside tbe open door
The red lose comes to take their place.
I walk the garden path alone,
And bear tbe thrushes sing above;
Tbe air is redolent of love.
And so I sigh for thee, my own,
I asked tbe red rose, In tbe dew.
If sbe coald tell tbe happy time
When I coald take her band in mine,
And pledge again my love anew r
• Tbe red rose, laughing, said to mc.
E'en now ahe hastens on apace ;
.1 She comes to greet thee face to face,
She cannot linger long from thee.
Tbe honey-laden bee la humming.
!
And all tbe thrusbea sing in tune
To every flowret of the June,
She's coming! oh. my love is coming !
JVotUiiii; jLoai.
Nothing hi lost; Ihe drop of dew
That tremble) on the leal or flower,
la but exhaled, to fall anew %
In summer's •hunler-abower; •••.yZ.sjfftjir
Perchance to shine wl'hln the bow
That fronts tbe aun at tall of day—
' i Perchance to aparkle in the Sow
Of fountains far away.
So with our deeds, for good or ill,
They have th-lr power, scarce understood;
Then let ua use our better will ,.„^
; To make tbem rite with good. . / ^ , ^ IJJJ
Like elides on a lake Ihey go, -a aj
,,Blng within ring, and never stay, f^)
yr Ob I that our deeds were fashioned so .
That Ihey mijbt bless alrrayl > - • ^;

TO THE POOJi-BOUSS.
* BT WILL af. CARLTON.
WVKB the h m to the poor-house I'm trudgin' my weary
•i way— _4; \ N _ V . . , ' .
*ia woyp_» 6f a e v e n t i , ;lnd only a trine g r a y -
*> 'Who am'^marj a_" chipper, for oil the years I've told, And what with her busban's sisters, and what with chil-
As m a n j another woman that's only hair as old.
•Over the Mil to the poor-house—I can't quite make It, T w a s easy to discover there wasn't room for mo.
},
clear] - **' •'.'• t
Over thfl^hlfi ift?tbe poor-bouse—it seems so horrid queer! For Thomas's buildings '<1 cover the half of an acre lot:
I Many a step t/ve taken a toiUu' to and fro,
But this is a sort of Journey I never thought to go.
I. What Is the use of heapin' on me a pauper's shame t
Am I lazy or crazy t am I blind,or lame 1
True, I'm not so supple, nor yet so awful stout;
But charity ain't no favor, If one can live without.
I am willin' and anxious and ready any day
To work for a decent livlu*, an' pay my honest w a y ;
For I can earn my victuals, an' more tou, I'll be buuud,
If anybody only Is wllllo* toliave me round.
Onoc I was young and han'some—I was, upon my soul—
Once my cheeks was roses, my eyes as blank as coul;
And I can't remember, in them days, of beariu' people
ft say,
For any kind of reason, that I was in their way.
I*1
Taint no use of boastin', or talkin' over free,
B u t many a bouse and home was open then to mo;
I Many a han'some offer I had from likely men,
And nobody ever hinted that I was a burden then.
And when to John I was married, suro he was good and
smart,
Bnt he and all the neighbors would own I done my part;
For life w a s all before me, an' I was young an' strong,
And I worked the best that I could In tryiu' to get along.
And so we worked together; and life was bard, but gay,
With now and then a baby for to cheer us ou our w a y ;
Till we had half a dozen, an' all growed clean and neat,
An' went to sehool like others, an' hud enough to cat.
Bo we worked for the childr'n, and raised them every
v
one j
Worked for 'em Summer and Winter, Just as we ought
10've done:
Only perhaps w e humored 'cm, which some good folks
I condemn,
B u t every couple's childr'n's a heap tbo best to them,
Btrange bow much w e think of our blessed little ones !—
I'd have died for m y daughters, I'd have died for my
sons;
And God he made that rule of love; but when we're old
*3 and gray,
••*'1 I've noticed it sometimes somehow falls to work tbe
V. other way.
81 Btrange, another thing:. When our boys an'girls was
grown,
And when, exceptin' Charley, they'd left us there alone;
When John he nearer and nearer come, an' dearer seemed
to be,
The Lord of Hosts he come one day an' took him a w a y
from me..
Rail Btill.I was bound to struggle, an' never to cringe or I all—
B - l f l worked for Charley, for Charley was now my all;
'.•Hi And Charley was pretty good to me, with scarce a word
or frown,
Till at last he'wont o-oourtin', aud brought a wife from
town, j
J3j!
" - ,»*»•••
Bhe was somewhat dressy, an' hadn't a pleasant smile—
Bhe was quite conceity, and carried a heap, o' style;
B u t if ever I tried to be friends, I did with her, I know:
But she was hard and proud, and I couldn't make it go.
W •
I Bhe had an edicatlon, an' that was good for her;
But when she twitted me on mine, 'twos carryln! things
a*. too fur; . . .
An* I told her .once, 'fore company (an' it almost made
. . bersiolOi''.* •
That I never •wallowed a grammar, or et a 'rlthmetlo.
B« 'twas .only, a few days before the thing was done—
_ -was* family of. themselves, and I another one j
"And a.Vetf Mfle j ^ g a t a for one family will do,
B u t I frqvffiJ^eAMf^'? house that was big enough for
.:::t->:---
'•L**.')»fr.-.!*» -'
And I never could speak to suit her, never could please
hercye.
An' it made me independent, and then I didn't try ;
But I was terribly staggered, an' felt it like a blow,
When Charley turned agin me, au' told me I could go.
I went to live with Susan, but Susan's bouse was small,
And she was always a hlntin' how snug it was tor us all;
dren three,
An' then I went to Thomas's, the oldest eon I've got.
But all the childr'n was on me—I couldn't stand their
sauce—
And Thomas said I needn't think I was comiu' there to
boss.
And then I wrote to Rebecca, my girl thatllves out West,
Aud to Isaac, not far from her—some twenty miles at
best;
And one of 'cm said 'twas too warm there for any one so
old,
And t'otbtr hart the opinion the climate was too cold.
Bo they hare sbirUed a-.id slighted me, an' shifted
me about—
Bo they have well-nigh soured me, an' wore my old heart Dark skies must clear : aud when tbe cloudsarepasl,
out;
But still I've borne up pretty well, an' wasn't much put Patient 1 listen, sure lint sweet at last
down,
Till Cuarloy went to the poor-master, an' put me on the
Then vex me not with chiding. Let me be.
town.
l.yi
Many n eight I've watched you when only God was nigh ;
Aud Go:'.'.: Judge between US I but I will al'P.ys pray
Over the Lil! to the poor-house—my childr'n dear, good- I grudge yon not your cold aud darkness,—me
That you shall nc ver suffer the half I do to-day.
TEACH US T O W A I T .
Why are we «o impatient of delay.
Longing forever for the time to be?
For thus we live to-ra Trow In to-day,
Yea, sad to-morrows we may never see.
We are too hasty; are not reconciled
To let kind nature do her work alone;
We plant our seed, and like a foolish child
We dig it up to see if It has grown.
The good that is to be we covet now,
We can not wait for the appointed hour;
Before tbe fruit is ripe we shake tbe bough,
And seize tbe bud that folds away tne flower.
Wb»n midnight darkness reigns we do not see
That tbe sad night is mother of the morn;
We can not think our own sharp agony
May be tbe birth-pang of a joy unborn.
Into the dust we see our idols cast
And cry, that death has triumphed, life is void;
We do not trust the promise, that the last
Of all our enemies shall be destroyed!
With rest almost in sight tbe spirit faints,
And heart and flesh grow weary at the last,
Our feet would walk tbe city of the saints,
Even before tbe sileat gale Is passed.
Teach us to wait until Thou sbalt a p p e a r -
To know that all Thy ways and times are just; ,
Thou seest that we do believe and fear,
Lord, make us also to believe and trust!
TOGETHER.
' •* « ______
Frtm the Providence Herald.
Such'glorious days I
Let as be glad, my darling,
Forgetting winter's n o w ;
Tbe gold Aotumn lies between its coming,
And God is good we know.
' •' .We will be glad:
If great storms break, my darling
-We know the s u i t will beam * ' • ' • - '
Across tbe amber we>.t with briehit r "lory.
The purple suneet gleam. , Lady In the land I .;
•••• After the frost . ... . \ '
The golden grain will ripen, •*» »• . ' -
Flowers bloom whtre snow-drifts fay! -
- he bush of Summer fold the world, _ y darling.
.- Let us be glad to day. 7 To tremble In her halt I
Such happy days I
Why must we d'e, my Sailing f
" *,lle parted, cold and low;
your dear arms the grave woald not be fearful
S§• -•-'
*"!t God is good weTuiowi
>• * • ~ jf->* • • ..
@
gas imiMnmiiiji IFJT TTS'.
COURAGE.
BEcacsz 1 hold It sinful (o d'.spond,
And will not let tbe bitterness
Blind Die viib burning tear?, but look beyond
Its tumult and its Btnte ;
Because X hit mv b«ad above the nest, -
Wber« the suu ebiueeftDdtbe broad breezes blow,.;,{
By every ray and everr niu drop kissed- ' '. I
'I bat Qod'e lo\0 doth beslow ;
Think you I Bod no hltlornrrs at all,
No burden t.i be home, li'te Christian's pack?
Think you there are no ready tears to tail
I
Because I beop them back ?
Why should I fang lile's ills with cold reserve,
To curse myself and all who love me ? Nay I
A thousand times more good than I deserve
God gives me every day.
And in each one of these rebellious tears,
Kept bravely back, be make.; a rainbow shine,
Graniul I take his slightest gill, no fears,
Nor any doubts are mine.
One goldeo day ledeems a weary year.
Will sound Ula voice ol cheer.
I must be glad and %rateiul to the end ;
The powerB ol llgbt befriend.
M-ASl/KING T H E B A B Y .
BT E _ _ l ALIO! BSOWKX.
We measured the riotous baby
Agalnat tbe cottage-wall—
A itiy grew at the threshold,
Andtheboy wasjosta* tall! a
A royal tiger-Illy,
With spots of purple and gold.
And a heart like a jewelled chalice
The fragrant dew to bold.
Without, the bluebirds whistled
High np in the old roof-trees,
And to and fro at the window
Tbe red rose rocked her M ;
And the wee pink —ts of tbe baby
Were never a moment still.
Snatching at shine and shadow
That danced on the lattlce-alll!_
His eyes were wide as bluebells—.'
His mouth like a flower unblown—
Two little bare feet, like funny white mice,
Peeped out from his snowy gown;
And we thought, with a tbrill of rapture
That yet had a touch of pain, *
Wben June rolls around with her roses?
Well measure the boy again.
Ah me! In a darkened chamber,
With the sunshine shut away.
Through tears that fell like a bitter raia,
We measured the boy-to-day;
And tbe little bare feet, that were dimpled
And sweet as a budding rose,
_ay aide by side together,
In the hush of a long repose!
Op from the dainty pillow,
White as the risen dawn.
The fair little face lay smiling,
With the light of heaven thereon—
And the dear little handa, like rose-leaves
Dropped from a rose, lay still,
- Never to snatch at the sunshine
That crept to the shrouded sill? 1
We measured the sleeping baby
With ribbons white as snow.
For the shining rosewood casket
That wail* 1 him below;
And out of the darkened chamber
We went with a childless moan-
To tbe height pf the sinless aagels
Our Utile one had grown 1 -
_r- r_e*rtband__ome, June tth.
HOSES. "'~~7j
I nave placed a golden. *
Ring upon tbe hand
Of the blitbest little
".*.."•
When the early roses
8cent tbe suony air ..'•"••'•> •
She shall gather white ones '
Hasten, happy rosea!
Oome to me by May!
In your folded petals"
Lies my wedding day!
.AeW
 Love-Light.
Go down to tbe meadow at break of day,
Go down to the meadow, ion John,
And labor away 'mong the sweetest hay
That ever the sun thone on.
And John he went down to the meadow-land,
But he saw not the meadow t w e e t ,
And the sky was dun, for he missed the sun,
Though it reddened his brow with heat.
H e missed the sun and be missed the light,
And the world seemed upside down,
Till be caught the sight of a smile so bright,
And a linsey-woolen gown.
Till he caught the sight of a golden head,
as And a fair and merry face,
Then so bright and round, with a sudden bound,
T h e sun went up in liis place.
fcX5
The sun went up, and the light came down,
And the field was all aglow,
While his hoart kept time to the merry rhyme
Of the reaper"s song below.
And Mary, she laughed at her lover's mood,
As she turned from his fond caress,
Though the south wind blew,from her lips so true,
The sweet little answer, " Y E S . "
" Oh ! wherefore so glad?'' said farmer Grey,
" Oh ! wherefore BO glad, son John !
For tbe storm to-day spoiled tbe sweetest hay
That ever the sun shone on."
But John knew nothing of rain or flood,
And nothing ot ruiued liny ;
For the. flowers of joy, to the farmer's boy,
Were scattered along the way.
And merry the wedding-bells rang out
Aud merry the pipert did play,
For ihe golden dnwn of the happy morn
That ushered the marriaee dny.
J GOING TO M.tlEP.
BY ALICE BOBBIN'S .
Gcoi i itlif. Dstty I Wh-'i. one kiss more 1
I e»rr v< u t w p t r siMesbef««>;
Ot'! tri* Is the very Ian' »f VI,
Klfbt ou <he red lips, so round asd small.
A m now Sumb'e in'o the downv bed.
Tliit froe'is Ute bon»T-b«ea. newly tedj
Up frcm Ihe rui's-white toes to tbe chin
Br I'll luck tbe Idles and dimples 10.
Itoiu*! vcu are never af.eep so quick—
I ktfw it, )<>u witch, '('« tbesamiuld trick;
Aud Johriry Clover »n1 A r t D-'W
8 Bating each other down stairs for you.
I don't like ruber, mv aleier.pt.
So luneti and p-ade or pour and fret;
Joru.ru is neb and Arty U wise.
But scmeoody else ba« tbe b .uuiest eyes.
Asd somebody, beiehol won", come to-vlgbt:
8'i nrre'e for » frolio, ynu winsome spnte.
Tbn'f fair; tbe pi lows were made tor bulls,
Ana babies for love-pets, and nu^s and fall*.
Dnr't err. darlinr, I'll kls« the bruise,
Acd tt'.t'yon 4be atorvnl daddy's sboes,
That ni ce r alked straight t nmugo tbe clinsring snow, , Altho' m y babe may fade for look of what I
But daddy's stookioRS were in tbem, tn'-ugh.
"And daddy'sto»s?" Yhu'rea wlteb to guess;
Bui, since you're »o wondroosly o ever, yes.
Burnt church be.llsring en the clear soft air,
And fairies aie gainbolii-g everywhere.
A s t n r t ! Well, listen: "G-r-Be"—vewnlog, nb.'flel
"Boy Jack built a bean-ladder un to the s k y : ,
And be jnunu at tbe top—" It baa come lite tbe
•weep
Of the fine tailing bloesinis, aud Daisy's asleep.
Now Arty Is off— 'ns his foot on the stair, ' Weak Thing, Meek Thing I I should shriek
And John will soon toliow lo r«g. and rteapelr. \
Tbtf 'ri->toLe; sfid the ohurcb-tellsTrrow fitful and
faint, : VI.
And tbe sweet air, so pitiful, echoes tbetr plaint!
t '
A «'ep on the gravel—a W iti>! He 1 • th re!
I'll run ic the mirror aid fatten niy hairj :. J.'
For. thonim Johnny if wealthy and Arty is wise,'-'
I love s mcbody else for his laughing nrown eyes.
x'. :••>
£^r'—^Vr^^.-V*^'*- '• * .."/.i/iV Ji.-?:.
©he iFacrs JPcstrr«$Eoth?r.
BY RORFRT BLir.H*WAN
Bright Eyes, Light Eyes I Daughter of a Fay I
I bad not been a married wife a twelvemonth
and a day,
I hod not nurst my little one a mouth upon
m y knee,
W h e n down among the blue-bell banks rose
elfins three times three,
They gript me by the raven hair, I could not
cry for fear,
They put a hempen rope around m y waist
and dragg'd me here,
They made me sit and give thee suck as
mortal mothers can,
Bright Eyes, Light Eyes I strange and weak
and wan I
IX.
i D i m Face, G rim Face 1 lie y s there so still ?
Thy red red lips ore at m y breast, and thou
may'st suck thy fill;
But k n o w ye, tho' I hold thee firm, and rock
thee to and fro,
'TIB not to soothe thee Into sleep, but Just to
still m y wo?
And k n o w ye, when I lean so calm against
the wall of stone,
T i e w h e n I shut my eyes and try to think
thou art m i n e own ?
And know yo, tho' m y m i l k be hore, m y
heart is far nwoy,
Dim Face, Grim Foce! Daughter of a Fay!
III.
Gold Hair, Cold Hair! Daughter to a King I
Wrapt in bands of snow-white silk w i t h jew-
els glittering,
Tiny slippers of the gold upon t h y feet so
thin,
Silver cradle volvet-llned for thee to slum-
ber in,
Pygmy pages, crlmson-hair'd, to serve thee
on their knees,
To bring thee toys and greenwood flowers
and honey bags of bees— .
•>{ was but a peasant lass, m y babe had hut
the milk,
Gold Hair, Cold Hair) ralmented In silk I
IT.
Pale Thing, Frail Thing I dumb and weak
and thin,
Altho' thou ne'er dost utter sigh tbou'rt sua-
dow'd with a s i n ;
Thy m i n n l e scorns to suckle thee, thy m l n -
nia is an elf,
Upon a bed of rose's-leaves ahe lies and fans
herself;
And though m y heart Is aching so for one
afar from me,
I often look Into thy face and drop a tear for*
thee.
And I a m but a peasant born, a lowly cot-
ter's wife,
i Pale Thing, Frail Thing 1 sucking at m y life!
v.
Weak Thing, Meek Thing! take n o blame
from me, '
give to thee;
For though thou art a stranger thing, and
though thou art m y wo,
To feel thee sucking at m y breast Is all the
joy I know,
It soothes me tho' alar away I hear m y
daughter coll,
My heart were broken If I felt no little lips
at all I
If I had none to tend at all, to he Its nurse
and slave,
and rave I
Bright Eyes, Light E y e s ! lying on m y k n e e t
If soon I be not taken hack unto m i n e own
countree,
To feel m y own babe's little lips, as I a m
feeling thine,
To smooth the golden threads of hair, to see
the blue eyes shine—
I'll lean m y bead against t h e wall and close
m y weary eyes,
A n d think m y own babe draws the ttUUfc
with balmy pants and sighs,
A n d smile and bless m y little o n e a n d
' • • • • • sweetly pass away, -,'
Bright Byes, Light Uvea I Daughter
M ASvIXC; T A T T I X O ,
Chin dimpled ; dewey. crimson lips;
Dork lashes shiiding eyes of bine,
As Hwixtthc rosy llntrer-tlps
The ivory shuttle swiftly fl-w;
And 1 recltuin«r. book in hand,
All Innocent of craft or go lie,
Seemed deep in rhymes of roroisn land.
llut studied her sweet face the while.
1 followed m UK> many Ihrsml
Twined in and out nod back again,
J-'aslor the nimble ongers spoil.
Till WWtoUlnH thorn wasalumsl pain —
Till, half abashed upou her tlirnnc,
Sly qoeun puis on aer shyest smilo,
And murmured in Use snfte>l tone ;
''Sir pout, read to me awhile."
And so 1 read; and lliui it ran —
•'True pnsiioii -corns dec.ill ur ar. !
I IN.id UiiM ciiwnr.i. and no man.
Wlm shuts Ills |II»«J il|' III Hi" heart,
Unweu, uiifOmih!. the iii<i»*»»i "IHH
Tliul inishl have lion er«l III the sun :
And l|e**p in m my a tuui i-u's uyua
Lies vit-i.iry, (falllitg l" hi- won,"
Ami If) I road, with fu.tivo plftufb
l.'phl.;.ilin^ s-iTUy n-..w and t ! w n -
llalf tinting li.ere In risk my cluni-c,
.Vor bil a coward a':"in^ n i - n :
Till ctiiis.'iuii* tteew I,»r-peaking face.
l i s t s lalll-svolilhtf all the hill"',
Whihi In and mil, Willi ssvltfesl f a c e .
The hii.y. iircl.'v. iliiittlu flew.
With Mld'll'll lll'inlM I ftilti:. Hi': b'i"k,
Par wilt lipuli \\f slt.pll'ic lawn.
Matkilie Up- wliil-- bi'f ir-.iil.l. 'I ]0"k,
'I'IIIMI s|ink», titili' |.r.-.--icnt or I'.ie dawn ;
"1 hnl'l him etaveiK I in. m in —
Jiot lie:l-.-r Ulan H i'»'d or .-l.ia-ll —
V. ho fen's M inn-.- uliei. h - C.III
What only I O W . I . I ;:•!!« k.» ;• •'...-•n .
••You sit hut'or.- nte u'l d ij l.'hi?,
A» iiri^hi mil nappy M t- l ! i " ' \
Vnu thrill iue with "»ar tvu«lef soiic,
Tlu'U ihili me Mtitul t: Carol.'is uurtl,
Ynu iniuti. p?r!iap--. In kt*y me n->ar.
Or throw iue. as ll s u i u , uwa;. ,—
1 tall ) u n thai Mm lime is been
Wuoi. I most h i l l or lus? for .ye.
•• Uownc st those losliii us \f. may ,
(Sho lined Ih.-iu in male utirprisc.:
The writ I '"'« I read t i day
l . i e s i u your Usart and in y o u * « } • • "
A quiver of tlie panvd lips;
i u e tailing lay uiii'li l«e floor;
And '*.'ixl the rosy flnzar tips
The idle shuttle flew no uior. .
Behind <»• laiiarinlhino *Byl
llaro etwad llielr inarot evermore
Mine iigre ihe gloriuus summer 'ays.
And love's fruition walks hefnr.-,
The pores:. Imliesl hnp.it "t lii'j
In s h e l t j ed liatens snfily ri'le,
And I am happy;'for my wifo
Pits luakii-f. litiiii-: by m i si-lo.
^1
THE NOBLE NATURE.
It is not growing like a tree
In bulk, doth make men better be;
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere.
A lily of a day
Is fairer far in MaJ)) •"" '
Although it fall and die that night.
It was the plant and flower of light.;
In small proportions we lust beauties see;
I And in short measures life may perfect be.
—Ben. Johmon.
 p
fujtEXTBAL.
I t V i ^ ' ^ ^ y , n. MYERS
•'r-ty.-..-'Vv*->.i-.; - — : —
^ jn ti&t thin air the birds arc rtlS,
'•";iIo Angdovcmnreinrton thebill
• "NorftiarlTiBcnshatcollR;
Cu%ay cicalas singing upi anc.
Arid Craters from the forest snug
• T h e song of waterfalls.
. 0 Pate! a few enchanted hours
Ucncath tlie firs, unions: the (lowers.
, High on the lawn wo lay.
Then tiu-ned again, contented well
While brunt about ns llamed ami iell
The rapture of the day.
And softlv with a guileless awe
Beyond the purple lake she r.aw
. The embattled summit* glow;
She saw tho glories inclt lit one.
The .round moon rise, while yet the sun
Was rosy on tlie snow.
Then like a newlv-singing bird
Tho child's soul in her bosom stirred;
'• • I know not what she sung :—
Because the soft wind caught her hair,
Because the golden moon was fair,
Because her heart was young.
. I would her sweet BOU! ever may
.Look thus from those glad oyes and gray,
Unfearing, uudei'ded:
I love her; when her face I see,
Her simple presence wakes in me
The imperishable child.
TEE ETM2T OF TEE WILTSELEE LABORERS.
ft.'. i . . *•
BT CHARLES DICKENB.
The following Terse*, written daring a period of severe agricultural
distress, tppeued In Thi Dotty Ntwi of Feb. H, IMS:
O B God, who by Thy Prophet's hand
-a. Didst sinit* the rocky brake,
Whence water came at Thy command,
Thy people's thirst to slake:
Strike, now, upon this granite wall,
Btera, obdurate, and high I
And let some drops of pity fall
For us who starve and die I
„ • The God, who took a little child
And set him in the midst,
And promised him His mercy mild,
',**•-, As, by Thy Bon, Thou didst:
I>ook down upon our children dear.
Bo gaunt, so cold, so spare,
A n d let their images appear
' , Where Lords and Gentry are I
Oh God, teach them to teel how w e ,
When our poor infants droop,
Are weakened In our Trust in Thee,
And how our spirits stoop:
For, In Thy rest, so bright and fair,
All tears and sorrows sleep;
( ^ And their young looks, so full of oare,
Would make Thine angels weep 1
The God, who with His finger drew
. The Judgment coming on,
Write for these men, what must encue,
Ere many years be gone 1
Oh God, whose bow is in the sky,
- L e i them not brave and dare,
Until they look (too late) on high
' AndUee an Arrow there.
Oh God, remind them I In the bread"
They break upon the knee
These sacred words may y e t be read,
" l a Memory of Me 1"
• •; Oh God, remind them of his sweet
. ,,-%.• • -Compassion for the poor,
" i £ 5 i w « ? A f r o m door to door.
.'HE DECK OF T H E " O U T W A R D
M Growth,
. a p t liipnc ollssfufduyi ,
Breaks on the silence of the wintry earth
g BOUND."
S o w eeldom we dream of the mariners' graves,
Far down by the coral strand!
The soni; and bloom that crown the sum- Bow little we think of the winds and lUe waves,
~-'"-'inerwbrrtliT '•'""*''"-' '"-- •.••*—••v~~ When all we love are on land!
The hurricane comes aud the hurricane goes,
atnbV.hfitltV footsteps pf J*t<lxpppi.tig rain,And little the heed we take;
I In slow, softpulses, crecpsherlire again. Though the trees may snap as the tempest blows,
• , _ , Npt<lnone..glo.\Y;lng thrpns..^..,.... And the walls ot our homestead shake.
Cluster tbelefties alr3 blossoms<>T the vine, Bnt the north-east gale tells a different tale,
JVXtK^taulU«Jiiijii.w.^\wl.lUia.,\yith its With a voice of fearful sound;
When a loved one 1B under a close reefd sail,
wine:
Nor, In one perfect hour • •• On the deck ol an " outward bound."
From the warm bosom of the fertile plain How wistfully then we look on the night,
Springs the ripe harvest of the rustling As the threatening clouds go by;
As the wind gets up and the last faint light
Not.in one ao'.den wauf Is dying away In the sky!
Will thy soul ripen to Its glorious prime How we listen and gaze with a silent lip,
And the rich fruitage mark till) harvest ' And judge by the bending tree,
time; How the same wild gust must toss.the ship,
• But slowly, • day by tlay, And arouse the mighty sea 1
In the full sunshine aud thciMidnight gloom Ah! sadly then do we meet tbe day,
Must grow the fruit that crowns Its won- When the signs of storm are found,
drous bloom. And pray for the loved one faraway,
On the deck of an " outward hound."
What though the blossoms lade!
Better than all the tender idiarmsof spring, There is one that 1 cherished band in hand—
We roved o'er lowland and lea;
The minimer verdure where the birds ntny
sing. " »' And 1 thought my love lor that one on the land
Was as earnest as love couUl be.
Ami tiulld-tlieir sheltered nests.
In their glad songs perchance thy soul may But now that one has g-mc out on tbe tide,
hcajr ,. .,.. ^ . » . .'. •, . I And that I worship the more;
Some heavenly eehoosstealliig^to (hiue ear. And I think ot the waterB deep and wide,
As I bask 'mid tbe flowers on shore.
What thoujth the. leaf.may fall! I have watched the wind, and I have watched the stars,
So the full light of autumn suns may glow And shrunk irom the tempest sound ;
With ripening warmth on preejons "fruit For my heart strings aie wreathed with tbe slender
below, »"" spars
Fit for the Master'* hand.
That carry the " outward bound."
Aud the frail vine may nobly stand at length
Nursed by . the tempest to Us sturdy I have slept when tbe zephyr forgot to creep,
strength. *".'$•' • . And the sk y was without a frown;
But I started soon from that fittul sleep,
Ouee, on a.stormy sea, With the dream of a ship going down.
A ship rode darkly through the midnight I have sat in the field when the corn was in shc.k,
drear.
And tbe reaper's hook was bright,
Her trembling crew forgetful, In their fear, Bnt my fancy conjured the breaker and rock,
Of Him whose tender love. In the dead of the moonless nignt.
Its constant watch above his children kept. Oh! I never will measure affection again,
Though worn with toil, tlie weary Master While treading earth's flowery mound,
slept. But wait till ihe loved one is tar on the main,
Safe is thy ship, 0 Soul! On tbe deck of an '• outward bound.'
—Eliza Cook,
Bearing such precious freight, though
skies be black The Swift Messenger.
' And nngry surges beat across thy track,
O Ariel, tricksy and dainty,
If Jcsns sail with thee. -.• .. You spirit of flUMt air,
Keep thou the .watch, ami In each fearful That was given the first man Afani -
hour . . . . . . . , Tbe breath of his month to btar;
The wind and wave will own the Master's Well suited the pair in Men
Your happy, wandering will:
'power.' * •' ' " " ' •" . • • - ' • •• But the world li wider aud sadder,
And you sre a triflir still.
Put on thy shining robes;
Some happy morn "thy feet shall touch the 0 Hermes, with winged saadala,
0 teacher of toogut-s apd arts; .,
strand, "'-• ' - i That came to the crerii'g uetious
And thy glad soul await thf beckoning As the world grew in taelr hearts;
band, . \ Unbarring tbe gates of learning.
To stcres for the i eopls's need,
Smiling and unafraid.; ., And tsaeblt'g the cUl>ter»l boekmea
Aud pass with singing through the golden To write fur-^he n.or«d to read. . »,•'
gates
To the fair palace where thy Father waits. Tly swiftly the wldeearth over,
O IKruue, whose feet are wings 1
Before you the derkness lightens,
. <oc. I,e'g<'«s<l i n S A l s a c e ; H I H , « •»! Behind Jon the desert singe. .
But lh« world spins taster and faster,
| Kuow'st thou, Gretchen, how It happens,' And blessing must strive with ban,
I That the..dear ones die ?..;•,, . . And wbrreihall wefinda swifter
• To carry the -wcrit of man I
God walks dally'.In his garden
While the sun shines high: T On htm In the' iatlr?eYages '
In that garden there are roses (And his >igna>s areall daub)
Tke train ••( thi> thundering aKee,
Beautlfurand bright,T *?•" TD© e&ds of the world., are corns
And he gazes round delighted Forth on the wild ste^m-horses
With the.Jovely.signt: x , ;;;v He rides to I he last affray;
Bat whom shell he send-before htm,
If he marks onVgayiy blooming1,''" And who shall prepare bts way 1
Than the rest1 wore MM'tt$l"#'*$ «'].
He. will pause and look up6u It, fj .'.-.- j Ilia cry cam's op to the Watcher
F u l l of tend«r care;' . #$ ?
. •, '] , That sits forth* help of msu,': r-
And H J said, "I muss send another,
And the beaufeoiyi rose he "gathers r1*"* '.3 "•• Or the world mnithalt sgsln."
V Injds.tpabni Hes^Hq Bo He rooghMo'the hont of spirits:'.
n «»"Vr '-wt'/C The spirit taat'swirteet ran,.
u t on earth".
But aro'teaiS
earth' are _ sorrow.
tears aud And "Go," H> said to the Lightning,
For'*diIfc^£aies'tL^i;t'i- **1 -And carry the words of man I"„
jtBU.
-•••6taftKi»|i-,-- i . • •• '
B r a patient smirch I found It—
Toe grave of a man who died
In til'" bloom of his ynntliful manhood,
In thO prime of his lofty pride.
He had ddv* 'with life's rain striving,
Its praluce, fii'd its sooru.
And finL;.isd his strong endeavor
Long years ere I »'u» bora.
B y the good deeds left behind him.
By the wrong he scorned to do,
I know Unit his earnest spirit
Was fearless and pure aud true.
And I treasure his name aa sacred.
B i s words as above my praise,
Anil love hiui ns not one loved him
While he walked the world's hard ways.
The work that he did so nobly
Should have blesaed his struggling days.
Should have liruugbt hhu gold aud honors,
Aud circled his Inow with bays.
But the world Is all nwrrntrf ul—
He. gave his life for naught,
And bin name, and Ids mauy sorrows,
Have faded from huiuau t h o u g h t
His life was a battle with trials,
Temptations, aud bitter needs—
His grave lies nameless and sunken,
A tangle or common weeds.
Even Nature forgets blm,
And spreads no charm above
The rum of loir fond disciple,
Who loved her with woudrous lova.
Only a single flower
Above him has tried to bloom,
But choked by nettles, it withers,
A type of the sleeper's doom— ;
The struggle of yonng ambition
Xlufuvoied by fortune's chuu're,
Cramped down by the pitiless pressor*
Ol oruelest circumstance.
But I treasure bis came as sacred,
, Bis words as beyond my praise,
And lovu him as not one loved him
While he wuiked the wot id's hard ways.
Ah m c ! when my life is over.
And faded to Mleiitness,
When my grave is uigli forgotten.
And hidden by weeds, like this—
I wondoe «f nr>ni«; kind spirit
Will {WttN in the shadows dim.
To give me a to.r and a Messing
LUi? these I flrvf tor him J
If so, awrri friend. wherever
Thy heiiu'if-.-l feet mu> stnnd—
I s the null, lircfl way- HbO't: me.
Or fur in souvi loLi..icr l a u d -
On the dim hilt'- of im future.
Where my o«'li may n»ve" go,
Or—(ii»B, my wreU'iied nlio.iuessl—
Hearer than I may know—
Oh, tender and loving angel.
With light on thy bended brow,
Oh, he.Lit which will hold me precious.
Would I eould nod t lice now 1
THE THREE KISSES.
I HAVE three kisses is my life,
So sweet and sacred goto me
Tost now till dsstb dews rest on them
My lips shall kissless be.
One kiss wss given in childhood's hour
By one who never gave another,
In lite and death I still shsll feel
That last kiss of my mother.
Th? second burned my lips for years,
1'or years my wild heart reeled in bliss
At every memory of the hour
When my lips felt young Love's first kiss.
The last kiss of the sscred three.
Had all the woe which ere can move
The heart of woman—tt was pressed
Upon the dead Hps of my love.
When lips have felt the dying kiss,
And felt the kiss of burning love.
And kissed the deed—then never more
In kissing should they think to move.
Mas. X. B. Baownraa •• Her anger would make her quite dumb;
n v rn.vxcisJ.vXNE XF.MBUS.
What shall 1 tlo with all the days .and hours
That must he uauntwd ore I Hie thy face ?
How shall 1 eliat'in the interval that lowers
Between this time ami that sweet tilUu of
RMW7
Shall I in slumber sleep each weary sciifo,
Weary with louring: Shall 1 Hue away
Into past days, and wilh some fond \ retonsc
Cheat myself to lorgct the present day?
Shall love for tin o liy ou my soul the sin
i o f custini: from i:u" HWI'H gilt of timer
I Shall J, tin se IfllsV 0..'mommy V c'iod v i i h i n ,
Leave and forgot life's, pu.pose sublime!
Oil! how, or by whatmoan.s, may I eontrive
To Ijiuij' the" hour thai livings Hie back
inure near?
H o w may 1 leach my drooping hope to live „
, Until tiiat blessed lime, and thou arl'hcrc ?
I'll tell thee ; for thy sake 1 will lay hold
Of all {;ood aims am! consecrate" to thee.
In worthy deeds, each moment that M told,
While ilioit, lielovud ono! art afar lrom
mo.
For thee 1 will nroinsr my thoughts to try
All heavenward flights", all high and iioly
si rains,
i'or thy dear sake T will walk patiently
Through these long hours, nor cull their
minutes pains.
[ wil! this tlfflttjU IOIUIK of aliscnce make
A noble task-lime; unci will therein strive
To follow i'.we!leiue and to o'ertake
-More good than I have won since.yet I live.
So may this doomed time build u p In me
A thousand graces, which shall thus he
thine:
So may my love and longing hallowed be,
And'tliv dear thought an influence diviuo.
ISTHE.COltSHUVATOnT,
Well, I've come here with jou, so now tell me
What Is It that yon wished me to see.
That cactus t Ob sonicate, yoa know sir,
It's at ugly ss ngly can be.
IM go back to the ballroom Ibis minute,
If you've nothing Important to say,
And I wish you to know I'm offended
To tb.lnk.you should call pas sway.
I don't see what yon went me to slay for,
Yon can find In me nothing but faults,
And accuse me of flirting, Just simply
Because I denied yon one waits,
And he won a atranger entirely,
Bui papa found him elegant quite,
Tet yon grow Indignant to find me,
To a friend of my father, polite.
And what can yon ssy for yourself, sir,
Ton needn't think I didn't see;—
Three times with tbst fattest Miss Belknap,—
Don'L Imagine It Interests mo,
Thongb I was quite surprised, I will own it,
At seeing yon sbow such strange taste,
While I don't care what girl yon waltz with,
I expect she'll at least have a wsist.
Make If np f There's no need, I assure yon,
For nothing yon do has tbe power
To move me,—well. If you'll stop taaejng
I'll be pleasantand give von a floWr.
There, will that do » O ^ no, I don't mean It,
', It's'abellotropev-ahrowUaway,
Justthlnk, If ro/mother had seeiris,'-—
What would she be likely to say.' ^ . •
Oh, please dontso down on yonr Wneea now,
J net thinkiPerhaps some one may come,
} If yonr sylph-like Miss Belknap should see us,
; Thy creatures as they be,-." ..-^'J:
But since vou insist on an answer, .:':f.v-
Though rm sure we are going too far;
Mammallkes yon, yon know, and for my part,,
Why, I always agree with mamma. -: .'JC
Who fathoms the Eternal Thought!
Who talks of scheme and plan ?
The Lord is Clod ! He needeth got
The poor devlae of man.
I walk with bare, hushed feet, the ground
Ye tread with boldness shod;
I dare not fix with mete and bound
The love and power of Ood.
Ye praise His justice; even such
His pitying love I deem :—
Ye seek a king; I fain would touoh
The robe that hath no seam.
Yc soek the ourso which ovcrbroods
A world of pain and loss ;
I hear our Lord's bcntltudos
And prayer upon the cross.
More than your schoolmon teach, within
'Myself, alas I I know ;
Too dark ye cannot paint the sin.
Too small the merit show.
I bow my forehead to tho dust,
I veil my eyes for shame,
And urgo, In trembling self-distrust,
A prayer without a claim.
I sec the wrong that round me lies:
I feel the guilt within ;
I hear with groans and travall-crles,
The world confosi Its sin.
Y'et In the maddening maze ol things,
And tossed by storm and flood,,
To one fixed star my spirit clings I
I know that Ood Is good !
Not mine to look when cherubim
And seraphs may not see,
But nothing can be good In Him
Which evil is in me.
m
- - -' j r-.
The wrong that pains my soul below
I dare not throne above ;
I know not of His base—I know
His goodness and His love.
I dimly guess, from blessings known,
Of greater out of sight,
And, with the chastened.Psalmlst, own
His judgments, too, are" right.
I long for household voices gone;
For vanished smiles I long ;
But God hath led my dear ones on,
And He can do no wrong.
I know not what the future hath
Of marvel or surprise: tie
Assured alone that life and death
His mercy underlies.
And if my heart and flesh are weak
. To bear an nntlred pain,
The bruised reed He will not break,
Butstrengthen and sustain.
No offering of my own I have,
i
Nor works my faith to prove ;
I can but give the gifts Ha gave,
And plead His love for love. •ape e I
And so beside the silent sea
I wait the muffled oar;
'. No harm from Him can oome tome
On ocean or on shore. >,i>1
I know-not where His Islands lift
Their fronted balms In air;
I only know.I cannot drift;.
Beyond His love and care.
0 brother 1 If my faith ii vain.
If hopes like these betray,
Pray for me that my feet may gain
The sure and safer way; •
issr
And Thou, O Lord! by whom are seen
Forgive me If too olose I lean ,,..
My human heart on Thee I.' (
 B A W K ' S NEST.
^..(SiSITM.)
» i ? w«T H-'-n"
SSaiai' oade—the red road sharply round- The dim Sierras, far beyond, uplifting
• A tEpKMDd ftet.belowi
mon,,ulB
Or w t e i ^ ' n a l U a y ' . V* •ld*
' S S f e f f l a ' ^ r a ) / bnrroned-
i 'A moleMull sees so taj>
We looked in »llei>e* down across the distant
A ^ t t r S l V b r f c R i d e ' s consistent
•And realisllo speeob. And then, while round them shadows gathered faster,
''Walkw/of Mnrpby's, blew a hole throujb Peters
Portellinsr him be. lied, „„..,,„ He read aloud the book wherein the Master
Then up »od dusted out of South Horaltes
Across the long Divide;
''We'renblm out of Strong's, andupthrougb^den,
And 'jcrosa the lord below.
And up this mountain (Teters' brother leadin'),
And me and Clark and Joe.
"He'lou'l us game! somehow, I disremeruber
Jest bow Ibe thing scm round;- «
Some sav 'twas wadding, Bsome
some, say C a scattered ember
s From Area on Ibe ground. The fir-trees, gathering closer in the shadows,
"But In'one moment all the hill below him
Was Just one sheet of flame; While thj whole camp, with " N e l l " on English meadow
Guardln' the crest,'Sam Clark and I called to him,
\And—well, the dog was game.
"He made no sign—the Ores of hell were round him,
i The pit of hell below. : •
i We eat and waited, but we never found him,
And then we turned to go.
I- h - ' • nt «»• • . ' • - . •
I "And then—you see that rock that's grown s*
• bristly. '••
. .With chappare] and tan—
Suthin' erep out—It might bev been a grltily.
It might bev been a man—
Suthin' that bowled and gnashed tU teeth and
snouted
In smoke and dust and flame;
Buibln' thai sprang into the depths about It, .
'•: Grlxxly or man—but game!
• .«; ivC ;:•;;.-!,.• • 1 Lost is that camp! but let its fragrant story
" T U e r s a l l . Well, yes. It does look rather risky,
And kinder makes one queer
Anifduuy looking down. A drop of whisky
Ain't a bad tblng right here I''
1 - f > l » M l l ArtTt»-H»w.
!'INTO EACH LIFE SOUS EAIH MUST
I - TALL."
/£• "Into each life?" aye, eten so,
,, %. Clouds roust gather, or iwlft or slow J
L And the bluest sky may be darkened soon
By the thunder clouds crossing the burning noon.
But,-bleuings on the rsln I
Freshness and beauty come In its train;
And though the drops fall.
Glory and sunshine do follow them all.
- The clouds that have no rain
'Are darkest «nd coldot, most sad and drear;
Most dull and gray, with no promise of cheer.
..Silence ana gloom axe in their train;
, And the wind moans wearily
A w a j l l t ^ a s caught from a restless sea,
On whose breast u storm sits broodisg,
;-• 'And through sll one's brain
Goes s sense of pain,
I »A saddest interludlng,
L&s iu harmony with the mournful strain
f ^ h a t is slgbipg in the breeze—
.That Us moaning .'mid the leafless trees.
As a requiem o'er all
The fadiag lUe wherein no rain doth fall.
~Wh«t lift but hath Its tears? 80 sweeter made,
What were the sunshine but for the shade?
A,weary monotony that will not fade.
i X w * J f , o u f ? , ° ' e r changes, but they are
., W As glory pf.the sun, or star, ;
Jtougfceloudy day or night cfear breaking.
Shlningfti off, It may be-but still shining,
* j to rebuke! most sweet of our repining.
Heboid the rilted clouds are taking
liD^MMML* flight, and with them go.ur fears,
jif&fh toes not thesuu the bright*?forthe rain?
. ^ ^ ^ ^ • . " S ^ F e e n ? moregolden-bued the
• j$ni»o s M l dare to say that through our lives I
^^mnnetoijrtthasameanalogyF
wsg^nto , nowy laroud]
" —XoHjifellow.J
• Vi „ DICKENS IN CAMP.
Above the pines the moon was slowly drifting,
The river sang below ;
Their minarets of snow :
The roaring camp-fire, with rude humor, painted
The ruddy tints of health
On haggard fan*, and form that drooped and fainted
In the iiejxse^race for wealth ;
w
" ftr
- Scratching the table and wa'l,
Till one arose, \ n d from his pack's scant treasure
A hoarded'volume drew,
And cards were dropped from hands of lisllcss leisure
Tu hear the tale anew;
And as the fire-light fell,
Had writ of "Lillle N e l l . "
boyish fancy—for Ihe reader
Sngcst of them all —
he" read, from clustering pine and cedar
A silence seemed to fall;
Listened in every spray,
Wandered and lost their way.
And so in mountain solitudes — o'crlaken
As by some spell divine —
Their cares dropped from them like the needles shaken
From out the gusty pine.
Lost is that camp, and wasted all its fire:
And he who wrought that spell? —
Ah, towering pine and stately Kentish spire,
Ye have one tale to tell!
Blend with the breath that thrills
' "* With hop-vines' incense all the pensive glory
That fills the Kentish hills.
And on that grave where English oak, and holly,
And laurel wreaths entwine,
Deem it not all a too presumptuous folly —
This spray of Western pine!
A WINTER DAY.
0 MOURNFUL day ! 0 fallen leaves !
0 rain! Blow-dropping from the eaves ;
0 wind ! that beateth at the pane,
And sobbeth, though your sobs are vain,
1 weep with you this mournful day,
For life and love are gone away.
I loved her, and I dreamed, as men
Dream once, but never dream again—
•• — j Dreamed of a thousand things to be
All for iter sake who cared for me—
Dreamed sweetly, but the dream Is done
That with the summer-time begun.
She was a flower that loved the s u n ;
iMy frail white flower ! no fairer one
iDied, when the Summer's children died
Sn valley and on brown hillside.
The gray clouds hid away the snn,
And soon her summer-life was done.
Sob on, 0 wind, and cry In vain,
For that which shall not come again.
The fairest flowers are first to fade,
The things we love most, first to d i e ;
0 wind, the sad complaint you made,
Is but the universal c r y !
,^uu I
Baby Paul,
BT vis. minor TBOMPSOH.
$
Up ID the early morning,
Just at the peep of day,
Driving the Bleep rom IDY eyelids,
Pulling j;bo quilts away.
Pinching my cbeeki and my forehead,
With hie white finger* mall,
This is my bright-eyed darling, 1
This U my Baby Pnul,
Down on the floor in the parlor,
Creeping with Uugh and sbott,
Or, out in the kitchen and.pantry,
Toaslrg the tbingi about;
Rattling the pan* and the kettle*,
Tbia i« ntT rongish darling,
Tire is my Baby Paul.
Hiding on papa's ahoolder,
Trotting on grandpa'*knee,
Pulling bis hair and whiskers,
Laughtr-g in wildcat glee;
Reaching for grandma'* knitting,
snatching her thimble and ball.
This ii our household idol,
This li our Baby Paul.
Playing bo-pecp with bit brother,
Eiaaing the little girls,
Romping with aunt and uoclea,
Clutching hli slater'a curia;
Teasing old pues from his slumbers,
Pattering o'er porch and ball,
This is our bonny wee darling,
This is my Baby Paul.
Nestling np close to my bosom.
Laying bis cheek tu mine,
Covering my mouth with bis kisses,
Sweeter taan golden wine,
P tinging h*« white arms about me,
Bolt aa the scow-flakes lall,
This Is my cherished dailing,
This ia my Baby Paul.
Fair Is his f«ce as the lilies'.
Black are hU eyes as the crowe',
Sweet is his Toica as the robins',
Red are bis lips as the roae *,
Bright is bis smile as tho sunbeams, •*
Beaming wheu'er I call,
This Is my beautiful darling,
This la my Baby Paul;
Dearer, a thoaeand time* dearer,
The wealth In my darling I hold,
Than all this esrth*glittMiog treasure;
Its glory, aud honors, and gold ;
If these at my feet were now lying,
I'd gladly renounce them all,
Por the sake of my^iuht-eyed dirllog,
My ile»r little B a b * M
When Ton were Seventeen.
When th«hay was mtwn, Haggle,
In Ihe.rea: a long ago
And while the weitero *kj was rich
Then band in h-«nd close linked * s passed
The dewy ricks betwten,
And I wasone-ani-tweDty, Mag,
Aud you were saTtntsen.
Tour Toise was low and sweat, Maggls;
Your wary hair was brewn ;
Tour cheek was like the wil': red rote
That showered It* petals down;
Tour eyts were Like the sietdwell,
With dewy moisture sheen,
When I was ou<*and-twanty, Alag,
And you were aerenteen. - - <-
The sprit)? was In our hearts, Maggie,
Aud all Its hopes were ours;
And we were children In ih-i field*,
among the opening flowers. - *•
Ay ! Lif" v. s like a summer day
Amid the woodlands green,
Vor I was ont-and-twenty, Mag,
And you were seTentecn;:
The years have come and gone,* Maggie,
With sunshine aud with shade,
And sllYered Is the silken hair
that u'or your shoulders strayed
In many a soft aod wayward trees—
Thefairtst eyer seen— ,
When] was otip.and twenty, M»g,
And you were seventeen.
Though fcenlly, changing time, Haggle,
Baa tfucbed you in his flight, -
Tour voice bas atlll the ol-i swest tone,
Tour eye the old lovelight; •• '.
And j ears can nerer, netr.r change
The neart you gave, I ween, •4i
When I was one-*nd4w*aty. Mag,
And you ware siTentoen.
 v v
- ame** i . BONO or TAB Bisnro ixafc ~ 7
Darning little stockings
• ". • ——— • i- For restless little feet;
•• • i irr HOBS. n « n . '*' V T i^'if'^'.- ' BT HLBAKOKA LOUISA. UBBVKT, '.
Washing little faces
To keepXhem clean nnd sweet j
Oh did you see him riding down, ' ; "" i y J U f ^ \ • , I was woke In the grass •
B y the delicate pass Heartirltj Bible lessons,
And riaing down, while allthe Vown . ^ . ; Of a gossamer thread. Teaching catechism,
Came out to «ee, tame out to see,. , •'.*•'; \ • .' Praying for salvation
And all the belli rang mad wlth-glee t '."'.' "'

Oh did you hear tho«c bells ring out, . *. ' .-

The belle ring out, the people shout,"
Up I Bed 1 up I fled I
Lake, forest, and valley before me were spread
-JBinjrieand_n.eadojfcrln»v____ .. . . .
Shingle and lea.
,

.
From heresy and schism,—
. „ Woman's work.1
Sewing on the buttons,
Overseeing rations,
-•4
Glimmer and shimmer and ripple it sea..! •:' <
And did you hear that cheer on cheer, •';.-'.• Higher, higher, .-„„„•*,. Soothing with a kind word
That OTer all the belli rang clear I My wing's desire I • • * « « • « • • Others' lamentations;
•. e ' 'J' * Higher, higher, higher, higher, Guiding clumsy Bridgets,
Small as spines on the thistle
And did you eee the waring flage, • ic* The white spires bristle, "•- " Coaxlug sullen cooks,
Tbe fluttering flage, the tattered flage, —HO-XttoerrhoUller;— Entertaining company,
Smaller and smaller.' -.::•' • '• And reading recent books,—
Bed, white, and blue, ehot through and through, I Higher, higher, • - . . . , .. Woman's work.
Baptised with battle'! deadlj dew T Myvrlng*sdesire. " ' • '
Up the fire-mountain, by fountain and fountain Burying out of sight
And did you hear the drum*' gay beat, . , - . Of flrel ,. • ,.-,.-,., Her own unhealing smarts;
On the topmost cone 1 Letting in the sunshine
The dinmi' gay beat, the huglei sweet, A white eagle's feather la waving alone.'•'•
The cymbals' clash, tbe cannon's crash, Higher, higher, .. • On other clouded hearts j
My wing's desire I ' Binding UD the wounded,
That rent tbe sky with sound and Aatb ? Healing of the sick,
..»•"" Let me swim, let me'swoon - •
In the rush of the whirlwind that swirls 'neath the moon. Bravely marching onward
And did you ice me waiting there, - •^ Higher, higher, higher, higher I— Through dangers dark and thick,-
Just waiting there, and watching there,. C •... Oh I the drive of the rack. Wonian's w o r k !
One little lass, amid the matt ,.i ., sum stun stini sum ..,., Leading little children,
That pressed to eee the hero pass J Tbe rush and tbe thrill - . . . , . . And blessing manhood's years ;
Beat me hack; ' ••-•.>>•• • • Showing to the sinful
Aha did yomee him amiling down. In tbe strife < . L',,: i . H o w God's forgiveness cheers ;
1
Breathlessly, deathless)?,,- ••
And smiling down, at riding down lighting lor ••««-• -•;•• ^ « . " - ' " Scattering sweet roses
With slowest pace, with etately grace, l a k e hack the rush *ratsrifl.yl'«-'.:.. Along another's path ;
Give ms the hnsh a g a i n . . . , . r , . . i . . ' Smiling by tbe wayside,
He caught the vision of a face,— , Let me soar, soar, soar •" Content with what she hath.,—
Ohrongh the golden door.::u...'i-.. Woman's w o r k ! **
. Mj f.ce uplifted red and white;- . ^JKa5nVs>4asiret
Higher, higher, • —-
Turned red aad white with sheer delight, [VKW, hi
.Higher, higher, higher, higher!. Letting fall bar own tears PW
. To meet the eye«, tbe smiling eyes;- Tbedelifcbt, the delight I- ' - • Whore onjy God can see ;
...Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet I: 1; Wlpiug off another's
Outfluhlng in their swift surprise I • ... Aftertherush • _ With tender sympathy ;
•'•• What a oaim, what a h a s h I Learning by experience,
Ob did yon see how swift it came, . ••! • ! After the roar, - ; ; ••.;:;••
. So to soar, so to soar •' 1 Teaching by e x a m p l e ;
Bow swift it came, like sudden flame, ;•' ." Through tbe golden ddor'l "' , Yearning'for the gateway,
. That smile to me, to only me, * .. - " "1 •' < ..:Mo higher, no higher, .. ZT.':•, Golden, pearly, ample,—
The little lass who Washed to see 7. • . • My wing's desire I. , - . ... Woman's w o r k !
. 1 should faint in the fire. ""
•-• Light upon light, • ' ' :'•• '• ' A t last cometh silence—
- And at the windows all along, • .- Heat upon heat,. A day ol deep repose ;
Oh all along, a lovely throng . Bright upon bright, Her locks smoothly braided,
Of faces fair, beyond compare, ... j .• Sweet upon eweet; Upon her breast a rose ;
Bllenoe on silence floating out stealingly, - ,
. Beamed out upon him riding thore. "• Hushfully, feelingly, Lashes resting gently - *
Upon.the marble cheek ; *}'
After the whirlwind not a pulse beat 1
* Bach face was like a radiant gem,. . .All asleep, asleep, . A look of blessed peace
' A sparkling gem, and yet for them ^•Asleep in tbe still. Upon the forehead meek.
Folded deepj •••
' Ho swift smile came, like sudden flame, Asleep In tbe still.of the broken :wlil • '.:,•• • Tbe hands softly folded,
Ho arrowy glance took certain aim. ,, Touched by the universe tenderly, healinglr, The kindly pulses s t i l l ;
•^ ^ U around ^ •• . . The cold lip knows no smile,
Be turned away from all their grace,' Not a sound, ; * . -. L T h e noble heart uo thrill;
From all that grace of perfect face, Left or right — ' Her pillow needs no soothing,
» • • ., Hot a eight. .. . . -. She craveth for u o c a r e -
He turned to me, to only me, •"" "'".'
The Utile laas who blushed to see 1' __
> Only the stars sailing fleet after fleet
...' B u l l u t u g h b «..;
(> Love's tundercst entreaty
r (.OLDEN HAUL
..-./. . Lapsed in supinenees,
Wakes no responses there.
," Ol the divineness, A grave in t h e valley, ' t..i^
Golden Hair sat on her grandfather's knee ; j After the whirlwind rjot;a pulse-heat I - Tears, hitter 6obs, regret;
r Bear little Golden Hair, tired was she, \' , l i g h t upon light, Another lesson taught,
Heat upon heat, T .71
I All the day busy as busy could be. -' That life may not forget ;
- :» Bright upon bright.
1 Up m*thTrnoTnlng~tTsoon"as" lwesltehTr " , -
' •, cj ' • -, . ••• , Sweet upon sweet; ' A race forever hidden,
f~Out wttlrthe.blrds and the bntteifl.esbright; Wings in the ,wuderness r worlds at the feet, A race forever run :
-• ••' ••• '••*" Sweetl " D u s t to dust." the preacher, salthi
F ittting- about till the coming of night :
Grandfather, loved with the curls on her head« 1 . . ' ! ;;r'.;::..: 1 - Sweetl • And womanVworXliLdarifi.
" What has my baby been doing;" he-sald,- I . . ^ 1 '•• ^ , i . ' - B w e e t l - ' . - " ~ ~ ~ J i i TBIHK OP THEE.
"Since she arose with the sun from her bed?" "THE L A D V TO TVBFUO'fEB..
BY XUCB CART. •-•
"Pitty much." answered the sweet little one; At closo of day, when twilight dews,
Since thou wouldst have me show
"I cannot tell BO ranch things have I done.r- .1, In what Bweet way our love appears to me. Embalm tbe scented lea;
Played with.my,dolly,aud/esdsdmy 'bun';,,,... Think of sweet ways, the sweetest that can be, not And tinge tho west hi golden hues.
"Asd'I have Jumped with my little.jump-rope 'v , And thou may'st partly dream, but can'st Then I will think of thee.
And then I made ont of water and. soap M "know;
For out of Beaven no bliss I'll think of thee when moonlight beams
ButlUe, worlds,.mamma's 'castles of hope.'" ,",• ' Dlsshadowed lies like this— Athwart the deep blue sea;
"Then I have readed In my picture-book -, Therefore similitudes thou must forego. And zephyrs 'mid the rustling leaves
And little Bella and 1 went to look '" Thou seem'st myself s lost part, Disport in wanton glee. . .
That hath, In a new compact, dearer close, I'll think of thee In winter's gloom.
For some smooth stones by tbe side of 'the brook And If that thou shouldst take a broken rose
"Then I corned home, and I eated my tea, v- •' " And fit the leaves again about the heart, When nature's beauty dies,
And t climbed Up to my grandpa's knee: That mended flower would be . •: I'll think of thee, when spring time comes,
Hearer and nearer the little head pressed,-'*: t, .i-.-.tJ A poor, faint sign to thee
I'mjesItasUied And flowers around us rise.
Until droopedasupon
tiredgrandfather;*
can he..', S'I*breast.- Of how one's self about the other grows.
Sear little Golden Hair, "sweet be thy restl'" Think of the sun and dew „ , „,-- I'll think of thee 'mid summer beams.
We are but children: tbe things that we do, Walled In some little house of leaves from sight, When Joy birds sweetly sing;
w e a r s out M U-I M-M . ui« "-slnni
»-.,- Each from the other taking, giving light, I'll think of thee when autumn leaves ,
Are as sports of a babe to the Infinite, view And Interpenetrated through and through; Lie strewn and withering. ;
That sees all our weakness, and pities It too. < » Feeding, and ted upon— I'll think of thee when music falls
God.grant that when night overshadows our w 1ay, All given, and nothing gone, • - . • Upon my listening ear.
And we shall be called 10 account for the day*," -
I -Be may find it ae guUeless-as'Gold^n. Hair's play' I And thou art still as far as day from night
Sweeter thanv„honey-comb. ' - > \ . . >. • '"r
And every silvery note recalls
The tlmewhen thou wert near.
— ..«.,. n^T,VM,Rtt. when rude .winds blow;
And','o f when'a'-weary, may we be so "blest .. -.-.._ t h a t , T lr»w
', As to sink like an innocent child to our re»t, < Whon'fancy"s&iys to elfln bowers,
• And feel ourselves clasped to the .Infinite ..brtsst 1 . And cornea-love's witchery, .-^ -
I'll dream again of vanished hours,c ;
^Dlssluidpwed fc And fondly Udnkjof ther '"-•' ' -"
L';;:. •''• •-.•.->•,*> v liiriiiii.-,'-.- \i itudesjhtiu;
mn- . :.-^:~- • '.--•;• .:<>M ~i "• • SiWIMSES-'Vi
 BABY BUNN. ,'-,
BT JOSI«/. M-»
Winsome baby Bunn!
Brighter than tbe stare that riso
In the dusky evening ikies,
V
Browner than tho robin's wing,
Clearer than a woodland spring,
Are the eyes of baby Bunn—
Winsome baby Bunn!
Smile, motber, smile!
Thinking softly all tbo while
Of a tender, blissful day,
When the dark eyes, so like these
Of tbe cherub on your knees,
Stole your girlish heart away.
Oh! the eyos of baby Bunn!
Rarest mischief they will do,
When once old enough to steal
What their father's stole ol you!
Smile, mother, smile!
Winsome baby Bunn!
Milk-white lilies half unrolled,
Hot in calyces of gold,
Cannot match bis forehead fair
With its rings of yellow hair;
Scarlet berry cleft in twain
By a wedge of pearly grain,
Is tbe mouth of babyjBunn!
Winsome baby Bunn!
Weep, mother, weep!
For the little one asleep
With his head against your breast;
Never in tbe coming years,
Though he seek for it with tears,
Will he find so sweot a rost.
Oh, the brow of baby Bunn!
Ob, tbe scarlet mouth of Bunn!
Ono must wear its crown of thorns,
Drink its cup of gall must one!
Though the trembling lips shall shrink,
White with anguish while tbey drink,
And tbe templo sweat with pain
Drops of blood like purple rain;
Weep, mother, weep!
Winsome \jttle baby Bunn!
Not tho sea-shell's palest tinge,
Not tbe daisy's rose-white fringe,
Not the softest, faintest glow
Of tbe sunset on tho snow,
Is more beautiful and sweet
Than tho wee pink hands and feet
Of the little baby Bunn—
Winsome baby Bunn!
Fray, motber, pray!
Feot like tbese may lose their way
Wandering blindly from the right.
Fray, and sometime will your prayers,
Be to him like golden stairs
Built through darkness into light.
Oh, the dimpled feet of Bunn,
In their silken stockings dressed;
Ob, tbe dainty hands of Bunn,
Did like rose-leaves in your breaat,
Tbese will grasp at jewels rare,
But to find them empty air;
Those sball falter many a day
Bruised and bleeding by the way
Ere they reabh the land of rest.
Fray, mother, pray!
THOUGHTS.
Xf,e old Jbouobta never file. IrorcorUI dreams
Outlive their dreamers and are on-f for aye:
Ro U»ou«M once Conned and uttered can expire.
THE DTINO T E A S , WOULDN'T YOU LIKE TO KNOW?
at urn m a r GaaMnaa.
With ilirfe.lihe meiic.'low,
BY JOHN 6. SAXB. ©
I know a girl with teeth of pearl.
Coaadl forth eglin the lolemn harp of Time;
And shoulders white as snow:
Mail f«f Ilia bariad houil, a foiieial ultima
She lives, ah! well
O'er human joy and woe.
I must not tell —
f b a i a r t laai'i wail aroonil Uia paninjr biai;
Wouldn't you like to know?
Based la thy diaaulait Mat, drparlmf year!
Her sunny hair is wondrous fair,
TTSt eve Thy wine hat iwepl And wavy in Its How;
O'at tha wide threaluild of Ilia shadowy pail, Who made it leas
Give back tha tiealurel U thy bosom call, One little tress —
Tba hari-etlearlh lial wain; Wouldn't you like to know?
Give back tha lily'l blocim aoil aiolal'i brealh.
T b e S a m " 1 " leevei tbatbowed before tha teapar Daalh. I Her eyes are blue (celestial hue!)
And dazzling in thoir glow;
Girt back tha dreamt ofTame, On whom they beam
. T b a eapirelieue airunj U* {lory wen; With melting gleam —
llopee that want out. pi-rcliance, whan veltliy lea, Wouldn't you like to know?
Nor laft nor uaea nnr name;
Her lipa are rod and finely wed.
•Gief back tha wealed hour., half.illleiod prayer,
Like roses ere they blow;
T h e bi(b roselies foi(at, that Hemp thy anaali fair.
What lover sips
Give back the flow of Iheushl Those dewy lip? —
T h a t woka within tha pnat'i yearning braait, Wouldn't you like to know?
Weaning i n wild and paisionnle anraat; Her lingers arc like lillies lair,
Love's ralahuw viiion* wweght When lillies fairest grow;
O f yanth'e daap, fearless trust, that light tba ICIOH Whose band they presE
With an iatinia flaw; taeordi or heart and tool! With fond caress —
Wouldn't you like to know?
Give back—fi<r thou hall more—
O l n back lha kindly worili we loved to wall; Her foot is small and has a full
Ye)ieel whaia MUlio on lha ipiril fall, Like snow lUkes on the snow;
Bat tenderness to pour; But where it goes
Tba itapi thai never now aranad a* traad; Beneath the rose —
' Faaal thai baant air ilaap; cm hack, five back tha daat! Wouldn't you like to know?
• Cite back! who shall aaptara She has a name, the sweetest name
Creatine*! boandlaii taalmi, in maik ihy preyj That, language car. bestow |
.._.
Who tnoael whare man hai never m u n i to away, "l'would break the spell
If I should tell —
Or teieaee dared In mail
^ Wouldn't you like to know?
.Oh', -who il,all if II what loni have iat lor eye,
What waildi «oaa oat, what eyitt-Bii paiiad awayl
A PHODLEM.
Not till tha tut* lhaII fall,
Ill L O U I S E CUA'NDLKB MOOXTOS
_ . A n d earth and ski hafora ataaj'l piasanoa flat,
Jahell-homen vision look aa ipniii saa
M r darling has a merry eye.
baaaath thy mvitic pall:
And voico Like silver bolls:
. Bat hark! with aacant claar and (lute-like swell,
•Fleet, o> lha New Veai's vaica. Departed one, Farawel
How shall I win her, prithee, say—
B y what magic spells 1
THE PERFECT WO MAN. If I frown sho shakes her bead.
If I weep she smiles;
Timo would fail me to recount
SHE was a phantom of dclisrlii All her willful wiles.
When first abe gleamed upon my sight I
A lovely apparition, sent She flouts me so—she stings mo so—
Yet will not let me stir—
To be a moment's ornament ;
Her eyes as stars of twilight lair ; In vain I try to pass her by,
Like Twilight's too, her dusky hair ; My little chestnut bur.
Hut all things else about her down When I yield to every whim
From May-time and the cnecriul dawn ; She strait begins to pout.
A dancing shape, an iina?e gay. Teach mo how to road my love,
To haunt, to startle and wa>lay. How to find her out I
I saw her upon a nearer view. For flowers she gives me thistle blooms-
A spirit, yet a woman loo! Her turtle doves are crows—
Uerbousebold motions light aud free, I am tho groaning weather-vane,
Aod steps of virgin-liberty ; And she the wind that blows.
A countenance in wbicb did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet ; My little love I My teaming love I
Was woman made for man—
A creature not too bright or good
A rose that blossomed from his side <
For human nature's dally food,
Bollevo it—those who can.
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles. I went to sleep—I'm sure of i t -
Some luckless Summer morn;
And now I see with eye serene A rib was taken from my side,
The very pulse of tbe machine ; And of It made a thorn.
A being brealbing thoughtful breath,
A traveller between life and death ; But still I seek by some fond art
Tbe reason firm, tbe temperate will, To link It to my life.
-, Come, solve my problem, married men:
Endurance, foresight, strength and skill:
A perfect woman, nobly planned Teach me to win my wife.
To warn, to comfort and command ;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright
With something of an angel-light.
WILLIAM WOEESWOHTII.
 W I L L H E COME.
• A true incident, showing woman*! love and de-
votion, that may ba witneiaad daily In one
! of the thoroughfares of Cincinnati.
[From the Clnoinnati Commeroial.]
Mid the oitj'i clang and bam,
Where the idle throng m a ; tea,
A lona woman atandeth dumb,
SaTe when asking, "Will be coma?"
Ona whose coming oan not be,
"Have you aeen|him ? " spoken low,
Scmetliie!, too, h r lip) repeat,
To the passers to and fro,
Little heading as they go,
That poor woman in tba itreet.
In the spring time, green and f a i r -
Through tba summer's golden lapse,
Wban ratal winter, bleak and bare—
Standing steadfast, iba waitl there. , And three are gone, three darksome years,
With a broken heart, perhaps.
Up and down the busy way,
Constantly her glances movo.
Aa In humble garmanta gray,
Reeking not what people lay,
Still the keeps the quest of love,
Yean agona the abiant one, .
At the stern behests of war,
Did as many a man hath done—
With hla knapiack and hii gun,
Marobed and fought till life waa o'er.
Leaving wife and home behind,
Whan aha urged him to remain,
Ha, with untruth not unkind,-
But to calm bar troubled mind,
Promiaed to return again.
Paused ha at the open door
Bra ha went—forsaking ber—
Saying when the olook atruok four,
He would come, aa oft before,
When his pledgea truthful were.
But the evening came and went
Ere the wailing wife could laarn
That, on battling ventures bent,
Ha bad joined his regiment,
Nor would evar backward turn.
Then her spirit, burtand numb,
With its atroka of miaery,
Vat, believing ha would come,
Made to watch and wait the aum
Of her gentle lunacy.
While aha waita the huaband dead,
Though the fault of fate be bia,
Shall no kindly word ba said
To ber who, with reason lied,
Proves how conatant woman la?
"Have you seen him ? Will b e c o m e ? "
Still that craxad wifa'a queries fall,
Gaining leant regard from some,
But an answer sure will coma
Down from Him who anawera all.
OSCAB H. HmriL.
Cincinnati, January 22, 1870.
A TENDER THOUGHT.
BY S1KS. M. A. KIDDER.
A blooming garden, bright ami gay,
With many a laugh ami ninny a shout;
Sweet children were at merry play,
A gentle mother looking out!
Down from the curtained window bright
She watched her little ones, ao free;
While in her face beamed fond delight,
That seemed a glory unto rue.
Her eyes ran o'er with happy tears
Of brimming joy, when they were glad;
A shadow crept across her brow
And vailed her smile, when they were sad.
May It not be, from heavenly heights.
The mother that we lost lielow
Looks, from her home of rare delights,
On us, her children, born In woe 1
That, from her gentle hand of love,
Sweet crumbs of comfort we receive-
Bright gifts from garnered fruits above?
On, that we only could believe I
HILDA OF THE HEAD.
BT D . IVAS DOWNS.
Her lattice looka upon the sea.
And there she aits the live-long day,
And gazes sadly, vacantly,
Out where the created billows play.
Oft times she sings a trifling lay,
With invocation in each lice.
That I have heard a sen wife say
Would call her lord from on the brine,
Whene'er she sang It three times three,
At midnight chime, when none were nigh,
At the last word she gazed to see
If meteor shot athwart the sky.
Ten years had passed since that bright morn,
When Ronald's vessel left the strand,
And by the favoring gale waa borne
Swift onward toward the Orient land ;
Since, weryried with her vigils long,
The shelving beach, with moans and tears,
She walked and snng that simple s o n g -
Walked at the midway hour of night,
While storms came sweeping from the sea,
Watching the rtlts for meteors bright,
And wildly singing three times three :
" Gently breeze, geatly breeze,
Over the sea ;
Quickly, please—safely, please,
Bring him to me!
Storms, ye are railing, aye.
On the wide brine;
Shun his good ship, I pray,
Sadly I plue:
1'ir.c for my sailor love,
Wand'ring afar ;
Guide bim, where'er he rove,
Bright Northern star!
Winds, lash ft not the ilc-eji
into white loam;
Keep, ye wild billows, keep
Down till He come!
May he contentment tind
Here by my side.
Virgin, IWOet Mother kind,
Be thou his guide!"
.V: dawn of day, When still had grown
The fenriul tempest's crash and M ,
The people of the cliil'-bt'.ilt town,
In MIAlsUi numbers sought the shore;
some moved by thoughts of treasure trove
From ill-starred merchant vessel were,
While others hoped, in hearts of love,
To save some shipwrecked mariner.
And, oh, the scene that met their gaze!
The stoven hull, the broken mas; ;
the tangled cordage, parted stays;
The freight that on the shore was ctvst;
\vA ghastly corse:;—muuy soon*,
Lay in tile dun spume, weltering ail,
Wiioni cold nor »tor:n eould har.v.ss nioiv,
Nov bunUwe.in's pipe to duty e:.'.l.
Oil traversed they the treaulieruiu, alt in,
The dang'runs straits passed to ;;;Ul fro:
i'hn tropic sun scorched them in vain,
Yi'ho leavicss dared IHu polar Hot-.
Sow lay them where lite salty Urewe
And Wave lUtiy chant their IVjquiilt!—
'•'.ave v.'.i.riors nf the miuh'.y itiiW—
Tl.u foe could lti'.l, not conquer ;!'. re.
i'.;.lsee! (Joi; save lltlf I'rov.i ::.'. SSitYni-.!
A wor.v.ui—rttllliC her bearing V.'iid!
:-i;:)'..'.;n:i :; cU".Wni-.«l oovse I'.i H e r.v.v. -,
Alt*' sooLlr.'ti it as il were is chi'eii
ilia msj v.'iigitiitU
".'lie 0*1
'.r.d f. ••
l¥lu;l
T H E l A T E ' O P A P I G S T I N O DOG.
ar T. east ru»i«.
A man be owned a terrier dog—
A bub-tailed ornery cuss—
And that there purp got that there man
la many an ugly muss:
For the man. he waa on his muscle.
And tho dorg he waa on hie bite,
So to kick the dog-goned auiniilo
Was aure to raiso a tight.
A woman owned a Thomas cat,
That lit at fifteen pounds ;
The other cata got up and slid
When that there oat waa round.
The roan aud his dorg came along one day,
Where the woman she did dwell,
And the purp ho growlod ferociously,
Then went for the cat like—everything.
lie tried to chaw the neck of the cat,
But the cat he wouldn't be ohawed,
So he lit on the back of that there dog,
Aud bit I and clawed I aud clawed 1
Oh! the hair it flow t and the dog he youled!
As the claws went Into his hide,
And the chuueks of flesh was peeled from his back ;
Then he tlummuxed, and kicked and died !
The man he ripped, andcussed, and swore,
As he gathered a big brickbat,
That he would lie domed essentially
if he didn't kill that hat I
But the old woman allowed she'd be blesa'd if ho
did.
And snatching up an old shot gun,
Which was tired, aud peppered bia diaphragm
With bird-shut number one.
Thoy toted him home on a window blind,
And the doctor cured him up ,-
But he \iaas uever known to ngbt again,
Or to own another purp.
Folks may turn up their snoots at this hero rhyme,
I don't care a cusa for that;
All I want to show is, that ngbtiog ilorgs
May tackle the wrongToincat,
L a Caatatrice.
BY J. T. TROWBR1DG9.
By .lav, at a high oak desk I stand,
Aud trace in a ledger lloo by Hue;
But active o'ciook you Mini's haul
Opens (he caao wherein I pine;
And as faintly ihe stroke from the belfry peals
Down through the tnundet of hoofs aud wheels,
1 wonder if ever m monarch feels
Such royal joy aa minel
Beatrice is dressed, aod ber carriage waits;
I know she has heard that signal-chiruc;
And my stromr heart leaps aod palpitates,
Aa lightly the wiudlog stair I climb
To liar fragrant room, where thu winter's gloom
Is cUnnifOil by tho heliotrope's perfume,
And the curtained sunset's crlmsou bloom.
To love's own summer prime.
She meets me there, so strangely fair,
Thut my eoul aches with a happy pain:—
A pressure, a touch of her trua litis, such
As a seraph might give and take again;
A burned whisper, "Adieu I adieu!
Thoy wait for me while I stay for you!"
And a parting smile of her blue eyes through
The glimmering carriage-pane.
Then thoughts of tho oast come crowdiag fast
On a blissful track of love and sighs;—
Oh. well I toiled, aud these pour hands soiled.
That her eing might, blooin in Italian skies!—
Tho pains and fears of tho-so lonely years,
Tho uights nt tonginc'aud hope and tears,
lior heart's sweet debt, arid tile louit artoars
eif !ovo ia those faithful avail
0 night! bo friendly to Her and me 1
To box. and pit, and gallery swarm
Tho expectant throngs;—I am there to See:—
Aud now she is bending her radiant form
To the clapping crowd; I am thrilled and proud ;
My dim ey*M look through » misty c'oud.
Aud my joy mounts upon tho plaudits loud,
Like a sea-uird on a storm!
Sho has waved her band; the tumultuous rush
Of applause sinks down: and silvery
lior voice glides forth on tho quivering hush.
Like the whito-robnd moon on a tremulous seal
Aud whorever her shining influence calls.
1 swing on the billow that swells and falls,—
I know ao more-,—till the very walls
Seem shouting with Jubilee!
Oh, little she oares for the fop who airs
Ills glove and class, or the gay array
Of tans and perfumes, of jewels aud plumes.
Where wealth and pleasure have met to pay
Their nightly Homage to her sweet aong;
But over the bravas clear and strong,
over all the daunting and fluttering throng,
She smiles my soul awayl
WHv am I happyt why am I prond?
Oh, oan it be true she is all my own!—
I make my way through the ignorant crowd:
I know, I know whoreraylovo hath down.
Again we meet; I am hore at her foot.
Aou with kindling kisses and promises tweet,
Uer flowing,, vlotorinne n p , r(JpMC
That thoy ting for „,,. ai„„B!

iHOEMAKER'S DAUGHTER.
AS4a
YmeBMioBT «s*I w t w ' t ' 1 n n °'^ frfe1"' of mine,
In his library1 coiily over our wine,
I Looking out oh the guests in the parlors, I said,.
Of a lady whose shoe showed soma ripping of thread,
"Frank, she looks like a shoemaker's daughter."
"Yes," said frank— " y e s ; her shoe has a rip nt the side—
The mishap of the moment—the lady's a bride.
i That reminds me of something; and here as we sit,
If you'll listen with patience, I'll spin you a bit
Of a yarn of a shoemaker's daughter.
" AVhen I was a boy, half a century since—
How one's frame, as one numbers the years, seems to wince.'
A dear little girl went to school with me then;
•V* X .n't in my arm-chair I see her again:
Kitty Ma'jet, the shoemaker's daughter.
hence the wonderful ease in her innniier she hnd ?
Su: from termagant mother, nor hard-working dad.
Yet, no. doubt that, besides a most beautiful face,
The child had decorum, refinement, and grace,
Not at all like a shoemaker's daughter.
"Her dress was of six-penny print; but 'twas clean;
Ilsr shoes, like all shoemakers' children's, were mean
Her bonnet a wreck; but, whatever she wore.
The air of a damsel of breeding she bore—
Not that of n shoemaker's daughter.
''The girls of the school, when she entered the place,
Pinched each other, then tittered and stared in her face.
She heeded no insult, no notice she took;
But quietly settled her eyes to her hook—
She mean* business, that shoemaker's daughter.
"Still jeered at by idler and dull-head and fool—
A hermitess she in the crowd of the school •.
There was wonder, indeed, when it soon came to pass
That ' Calico Kitty' was head of the class.
' W h a t ! Kitty?' 'That shoemaker's daughter.''
"Still wearing the same faded calico dress,
And calm as before in the pride of success;
Her manner the srme—easy, soft, and refined—
1'was she seemed an heiress, while each left behind
In the race was the shoemaker's daughter.
" Hit by bit all her school-mutes she won to her side.
To rejoice in her triumph, be proud in her pride.
And I with the lest—I felt elderly then;
For I was sixteen, while the lass was but ten I
So I petted the shoemaker's daughter.
•' Do you see that old lady with calm, placid tiice.
Time touches her beauty, hut leaves all her grace:
D o you notice the murmurs that hush when she stirs.
And the honor and homage so poiiitt-dlv hers?
That's my wife, Sir—the shoemaker's daughter."
"LOVE OK, LOVE EVEE,"
A little bird sits In yonder tree.
And be sing* of love to you and me—
"' Ho itngs, "l.ove on—love ever!"
His voice is as clour M a sliver bell:
How sweetly It rose, how softly It full)
And His carol, 1 like It passing well,
f o r I shall love on—love ever.
How does he know that 1 love you ?
Whoever lias told him. has told him true-
. Hark, hark! " l.ove on—love ever!"
To all things else Time change will bring;
O'er many a hope the knell will ring:
And the bird ere winter will cease to slug.
But I shall love on-love ever.
Oh Carrie, my dear, true love endures,
8inall need to such hearts as mine and your.i
Tosay, " Loye on—love over!''
Yet the little bird knows, (n this world or our*
That affections oft fade like summer flowers:
But mine wl;l laugh at all frosty powcrj,
And I shati i o r e o n - | 0 v e ever.
Some malds,sweet heart, I am sure there are,
. . ™ » b o m t i i , M r | M w e r e utter for,
i Of bis—"Love on—love ever!"
To you It will merely moslc seem-
, .j A matter for smiles, a useless the'me—
,\SL **'• by Jour dark eyes' tender gleam.
*f J 0 0 "*"' '<"e oa-love ever.
J£ t^'K^^^V^*"
What glor
What glory tbcs
A gUiupee I Wlutt
a thrill, anddarkueaSnnwl
It Is flowu.
I reach, I grasp, bat stand alsne.
With empty arms anu upward brow.
Ye may not see, o wesry ere*.
The band of xugols, swift and bright,
That pate, bat cannofwaTte your sight,
Down trooping from the crowded skies t
0 heavy ears ( Ye may not hear
The strains that pass my. conscious soul,
.And seek bat find no earthly goal,
Far falling from another sphere!
Ah! soul of mine! Ah I soul of mine!
Tby sluggish scenes are bnt ban
That stand between thee and tan stars,
And abnt tbee from the world divine.
Tor something sweeter far than sound,
And something finer than the light
Cornea through the discord and the night,
And penetrates, or wraps thee round.
Nay. God is here, oouldst thou bat see;
All things of beauty are or Him:
And heaven that holds the cherubim,
As lovingly embraces thee t
f thou hast apprehended well
The tender glory of a flower,
Which moved thee, by some subtile power
Whose source and sway thou couldst not tell;
IX tbou hast kindled to the sweep
Of stormy clouds across the sky.
Or gazed with tranced and tearful eye,
And swelling breast, upon the deep;
If thou bast felt the throb snd thrill
Of early day and happy birds.
While peace, that drowned thy chosen words
Has flowed from thee la glad good-will;
Chen hast thou drunk the heavenly dew;
Tben have thy feet in rapture trod
The pathway of a thought of Sod;
Aad death can abow thee nothing new.
For heaven and beauty are the same-*
Of God the all-informing thought,
To aweet, supreme expression wrought,
And syllabled by sound and flame.
The light that beame from childhood's eyes,
The charm that dwells in summer wojds,
The holy influence that broods
O'er all things under twilight sides—
The music of the simple notes
That rise from happy human homes,
The Joy in life and all that roams
Upon the earth, and all that floats,
i
Proclaim that heaven's sweet providence
Enwraps the homely earth in whole,
And finds the secret of tae soul
Through channels subtler than the sense.
0 soul of mine I Throw wide tby door;
Add cleanse tby paths from doubt and sin;
And the bright flood shall enter in,
And give thee heaven fnrerermore 1
—[Hours si Horns for Jane
MY WKA1.TJI.
My wealth is not in government bond",
Nor stock in trails, nor fertile lauds,
N'nr gold and silver in a sail1.
Secured by locks and iron lxinds.
.My treasure* .ire exempt from lax,
Kxcept what I may falsely pay,
And every dollar tints expondotl,
Pays me good lutcrest every tiny.
M.v wealth is not in anything.
To tempt a midnight burglar hero.
Though all my treasures on this earth.
Aro In my homo, 1'vo nought to fenr!
I often leave them for the day.
But when descends tho shade of night,
1 baste with joy unto my home,
To guard them till the morrow's light.
My treasures—source of all my Joys—
The wealth that cheers me on thro' lif.t-
ril toll to you by naming first
My gentle, loving wife I
Within my home, with shonts of glee,
A little girl and boy doth play—
-The former five years old last month,
The latter one year old to-day.
There aro my treasures, only three,
And yet I'm richer than a king,
And joyous as the summer bird*
That 'neath my window need to sing.
What thongh the winds of winter blow,
And all without is cold and drear,
Within Is light, and warmth, and love.
I'm happy with my treasures hero I
'- ABATDEEAM.
B T PHCEBE CUT.
If fancy do not all deceive,
If dreams have any truth.
Thy love most summon back to mo
The glories of my youth;
For If bat hope unto my thought
Such transformation brings,
M»y not fruition have the power
To change all outward things 1
Come, then, and look Into mine eyes
Till faith hath left no doubt;
So shalt thon set in them a light
That never can go out;
Or lay thy hand upon my hair,
And keep it bt&k as night.
The tresses thaCbjJd felt that touch
Would shame to turn to white.
To me it were no miracle,
If when I hear thee speak.
White lilies round my neck should bloom
And roses in my cheek,
Or if the joy of tby caress,
The wonder of thy smiles,
Smoothed all my forehead oat again,
As perfect as a child's.
l i y Up is trembling with such bliss
As mortal never heard;
Hy heart, exulting to Itself,
Keeps singing like a bird ;
And while about my tasks I go
Quietly all the day,
I could laugh oat, as ehildren langb,
Upon the hills at play.
0, thon, whom fancy brings to me
With morning's earliest beams,
Who walkost with me down the night,
Tho paradise of dreams;
I charge thee, by the power ot lore,
To answer to love's call;
Wake me to perfect happiness,
Or wake me not at all!
WOMAN.
B t JULIA WARD HOWE.
A VESTAL priestess, proudly pure,
But of a meek and quiet spirit ;
With soul si) dauntless to endure.
And mood so calm that naught can stir it,
Save when a thought moat deeply thrilling
Her eyes with geutlest tears ia flllin i.
Which seem with her true words to start
From the deep fountain at her heart.
A mien that neither seeks nor shuns
The homage scattered in her way ±
A love that hath few favored ones, * •
And yet for all can work and pray ;
A amlle wherein each mortal reads
The very sympathy he needs ;
An eye llko io a mystic book
Of lays that bard or prophet sings.
Which keepeth for tbe holiest look
Of holiest love its deepest things.
A form to which a kins had bent.
The fireside's dearest ornament-
Known iu the dwellings of tho poor
Better than at the rich man's door ;
A life that ever onward goes,
Yet In itself has deep repose.
A vestal priestess, maid, or wife—
Vestal, and vowed to oiler up
The innocence of a boly life
To Him who gives tho mingled cup ;
With msu its bitter sweets to share,
To live and love, to do and dare ;
His prayer to breathe, bis tears to shed,
Breaking to him tbe heavenly bread
Of hopes wblcn, all too high lor earth.
Have yet in her a mortal birth.
This is tbe woman I have dreamed,
And to my cbildish tbought she seemed
The woman I myself should be :
Alas I I would tbat I were she.
 T H E M O B M O N ' B O L D WIFBJ.
f: i ' — * » rs ', '>
A bod and falling and old and grey, > -
A nd ehe laid: '• 0 my Ii
B V, You have eufferad Ike
On the thirtieth morn or her wedding day— ;«
5 Firs, wlf* in lini* but the ninth in number— g
fi\i Betsey Perkins awoke from slumber; u~ ..
And ihe hear d the belle or Bait Uk* shsddlng
-Their melody over her husband's wedding.
This morn he mated the tenth young epouee
'In the eloletere of the Endowment House |
One fair enongh 'midst the daughter! of men
To make an old man gallant again..
for he In the church was a reigning star—
Oae of the "Twelve" and a Couniellor;
And many missions had made him wlee,
And deepened the lights in hie handeome syss;
While eh*, bod.rlddeu with habu and caret, - Por thought whoee fitful shining
Lost the 'ia. from her cheeke and the brown from her
balrs; ••>•> • ".V" "
Loet hope and husband, and all but belief
In tbe Church of the Salute and the might of Iti
Chief.
And tho wedding belli were clear and ehaip
•As arrow* ehot from the chorde of a harp.
\ i \ tenderer belie had pealed for h*'r
That-wedding morn In Xxetef,
When in the Parish Church ehe stood.
Upon the threshold of womanhood,
' And trustfully, heartily gave bar all
To the etrong young blackemlth, frank and tall;
Hia stiver watch hie thrift cosfeeeed;
A aosegey smartly bloomed on J>U breast ;
Ilia Corniah aeoent, d**p aad queer,
Like Psalmist's melody thrilled on her ear ;
Of rev*rent mind and serious faeblon,
Ills love had eomethlng more than passion;
And ehe felt on hie broad breast anchored faat,
. She peace that understanding paaeed I
Now, over ber gr»y,adobe horn*,
Th* Weheetch mountains, dome on dome,
Alone kept eentrr; their eaowy •pear*
Uad changed no feature in twenty yeare.
Tha rlU that babbled about harlot -
Talked cold in the orchard! of apricot;
And her eight grew dim in the lonely day*,
Uk* th* Tale of Deeeret loet in the hate.
Alone, neglected, her danghUre the'priie
Ot aolemn EUbopl and "Seventies ;"
Her ion* *ngroued In their wire* aad farm*,
And her husband eealed in a maiden'e arme.
She cried: " 0 bleeied Hester abort,
Thle mom of my wedding I perleh for love I
" 1 am chill and blind. Let me lean once more
On the breaet that receWed me eo gladly of yore!
" If ever my heart cried ite pain and hunger
To see him look down in th* eyes of one younger,
" Or uttered my crusbsd love's agony, '
To bear, oft-repeated, the TOW made to me, Don't cry, darling, I'll kiaa the bruise,
And tell you the story of daddy's shoes.
When happy in girlhood my bridegroom ttood by \ That once walked'atraight through the clinging
Thia prayor.ol my old age, my Saviour, deny me!
"Not all.Wt a moment of. love I *ntr**t:
To hear on my threshold thaaound of bit feet,
" To Wile on hit boioai, and die on bit kin—
0 Jetua, thou comforter, grant me but thia I" '.
Tbe light on the mountain* grew dark at the epake,
And tha tills of the oanoa* that ran to th* lake;
A* cold at the;Jordan iu winter tbe'room,
And like mow on the fire died her hope In tha gloom".
But a hand like a lover'* *he felt in bar palm.
Arfdavoica\hit%"arb^"lng'.pVk.Tofo'f"th«c*lm ".
. • .' . .
" 0 weary and laden one, come untom* 1
.Tour prayar it is answered;, your love you ahall tee!
' By the-bedside, all brightness, One beautiful Mood,
But Ihe prinu on Hit feet and His side war* Ilka
,,,., blood. ,. ,,..: , ; . , , , . ,»tufcl9M!
But like tha ideal ihe had wept to smbraeaLi; • - *
Jh* groom of ber girlhood Ha aaamad by H 9 fac*. '
oe,*for.4bsenc* atoning,
; you b i n bled without
ilk.
moaning.
* 0 tarry a day-are foreverwe part!
For tb* bliss of your.eomiog brine* death to my
heart!" . .. j "
Then it seemed that tbe cot and the mountain* eauk
down,
And the stars thronging round hid tbe lighta of the
town.' '. ii i.-- •
But her fear* .wore assaugeJ on the breaet of her
choice, . . . "
And the comfort unspeakable borne on Hie n i c e ;<
ii o eoul leaking lore I to account for thy loae,
In thee1*111 o t M T u»otber I w~t but the croae,
" And eepouied in My pain, with My arme opened wld
The old and neglected by men caet aelde I"
John Perklne, Apostle, at eeldom or lata.
Came up to eld Beteey'e and opened the gat*.
. He etole through the orchard, patted aottty the door,
And eet hie great baaket of giftt on the Boor.
Then* lay on a cot. with her face to the South,
Tbe wife of hie youth with a entile 'round ber mouth,
Tbe emile that ehe were In her frethneee of charm*.
When be woke in the morn and ehe elept In hie anna;
Like'the light on Twin Peaki when the day Ha-
gert low, • • I
It lay 'aeath he white halre and tinted their enow, .
Recognition of lore everlasting it spake.
When father and mother and husband foraekel
"0 Oentilei I" eaid Perkins—and knelt bj tha place— I
"Can your wire* die like eun, with a smile on the
: facet'!. ; ..
" 0 Women 1 who yield up all heaven for a kin,'
We pity our old -wire* who liumber like thia!!'
—Otorat J\fr*4 Tmpn*">4u : ... '..:..' • _^_ I
... |'
[From tha New York Independent.]
GOIHO TO BLEEP.
J BY ALIO! B011MXB.
A Thy check is pale with many cares,
' Good-night, Daily I What, one Wis more?
' 1 gave you twenty k i u e i before;
i Oh I thle ia the very last of all.
Right on the red lips, ao round and email.
And now tumble into the downy bed. •
' That amella like honey-bees, newly fed;
Up from tha milk-white toet to the chin
I'll tuck the lilies and dimplea i n .
Rogue I yon are never asleep to quick— •
I knew it, you witch, 'tis the tame old trick;
And Johnny Cloyer and Arty Dew
Bating each other down stairs for y o n . .
I don't like either, my sister-pel.
Bo laugh and giggle or pout and fret!
Johnny it rich and Arty la wise.
But somebody elae bat the bonniest eyes.
And somebody, heigho! won't come to-night;
So here's for a frolic, you winsome anrite.
That'a fair; tbe pillows were made for balls.
And babiea for love-pets, and hugs and falls.
But daddy's stockings were in them, though.
"And daddy'a toes?" You're a witch to guess;
But. since you're ao wondrouily clever, yea.
Hush I church-bells ring on tbe dear soft air,
And fairies are gamboling everywhere.
Aatoryl Well, lieten: "Once"—yawning, oh,
fie I
"Boy Jack built a bean-ladder up to the sky:
And be found at the top—" I t haa come like
_ . .. «M »'"e*P, iV JT»I , , Before dark despair would rise,
Of the fine falllngbloaaema. andDaiay's asleep.
Now Arty it off—'tis hia foot on the stair,
And John wiU soon follow in rage and despair.
v; They're gone, and the church-belle grow fttful
; and faint.
And the sweet air, so pitiful, echou their plaint!
I A atep on tbe gravel—a voice 1 Se ia there 1
n i I'll run to the mirror and fasten my hair; •
. 1 For, though Johnny ia wealthy and Arty is wise,
" ' I love somebody elae for hia laughing brown eyes.
:T
•'---,S: i .
TKEHABDE$r<riP°1' AXI
"
There are daya of deepest eorrow
In the reason* of our lire;*•.-•
There are wad, despairing momenta,
fl"hcre arc hour* of mental etrife.
There are hours of atonyanguiah,
J® •
"vi
I1"**
\ 1
When tbe tear* refute to t»U:...
But the waiting time, «iy brothers, M> Jm'r |
Is the hardest lime of en."» —
'; *'-<ffijfifl HP-' • -1
Youth and love are oft Impatient, * NVNttHE ianrw :
Peeking thinse beyondH&ir reach;
And tbe heart grow* eiclrVtth hoping,
Ere It learn* what life can teach. - - mWt
Por, before tbe fruit be gathered, •
We must see the bloasoma fall;
And the waiting time, my brothers,
It tbe hardest time of all. ' ' . '•
7/
Loving once, and loving ever,
It it aad to watch for year*
Makes a rainbow of our tears.
It is sad to count at morning
All the hours to evenfall;
O the waiting time, my brothers.
Is the hardest time of all.
We can bear the heat of conflict,
Though the sudden crushing blow,
Beating back our gathered forces,
For a moment lay ua low/ •
We may rlae again beneath It,
None the weaker for our fall;
But the waiting time, my brothers,
la the hardest time of all.
For it wear* the eager vptrit,
An tbe ealtwavee wear tbe atone.
And Hope's gorgeous garb grows threadbare,
Till its brightest tint* are gone.
Then amid youth's radiant tresses,
Silent snows begin to fall;
O the waiting time, my brother*,
Is tbe hardest time of aU,-
Yet at last we learn the lesson,... '?•
That Ood knoweth what is beat,. .. .
And a silent resignation
Make* the spirit calm endbleet;
For, perchance, a day lstoomlhg,
For the change* of our fate.
When our bearta will thank Him meekly
That He taught us how to wait.
T*> BIY W I F E .
Tliy brow is overcast;
And thy fair face a shadow .wears
That tells of sorrows past;
But bath t>r tonguo for me.
How dark soe'er my heart may be, .
1 turn for comfort, love, to thee,
My beautiful, my wife I .
Thy gentle eyes are not so bright
As when 1 Wooed the first,
Yet still they hare the same, sweet light,
Which long my heart hath nurat;
They have tbe same enchanting beam.
Which charmed me in love's early dream.
And still with joy on me they stream,
My beautiful, my wife!- 1
When all without looks dark and cold, -
And voices change their tone,
Nor greet me as tb*y did of old, j
- I foel I'm not alone; "« > • -j
For tbou, my love, art aye the same,
And looks and deeds thy faith proclaim;
Though all should scorn, thou wonld'stnot blame.
My beautiful, my wlfel. i
A shadow comes across mv heart, * >
And overclouds my fate, J
Whene'er I think thou may'st depart.
And leave me desolate; 'J
For, as the wretcth who treads alone
Some gloomy paih,iu-wlldi ubkuown, m
Such should I be, if thou wert gone,
My beautiful, my wlfel
If thou wert dead, the fiow'rs might spring,
But I should heed them not;
The marry birds might soar and sing,
They could hot cheer my lot;
Arid spread a pall o'er earth and skies.
If shone no more thy loving eyes,
My beautiful, my wlfel
And those dear eyes have shono thro' tears,
But never looked unkind;
For shattered hopes and troubled years.
" Still closer teeni to bind
. Tby pure and trusting heart to mine; -
Not for thyself did'st thou repine.
But all thy husband's grief was thine, .- *
My beautiful, my wlfel .
. ':'!
When at eventide"! sea
My children throng around.
And know' the low of thorn; and thee, ','• .
My spirit still is.bound., • .".
To earth,- despite bf,ei*ry care,' ' >
I feel my soul canfinand dare, ...:-> \-iiv'.
• , So long as,0mo,myjot dost share*,, •-
- . M i "*""*"
 NURSERY REMINISCENCES.
Incdlled poem by Rev. P_ H. Barbara, author of
the " Ingoldsby Legends;" from au old number of
Blackwood.
I REMEMBER, I remember,
When I was a little boy,
One fine morning In September
Uncle brought me home a tor.
I remember how he patted
Both my checks In kindliest mood,
" There," he said, " y o u little Fat-head —
There's a top because you're good."
Grandmamma, a shrewd observer,
I remember gazed upon
My new top, and said with fervor,
" Oh, how kind of Uncle John !"
While mamma, my form caressing,
In her eye the tear-drop stood,
Rend me this flue moral lesson,
" See what comes of being good !"
I remember, I remember,
On a w e t and windy day,
One cold morning In .December,
I stole out and went to play;
I remember Billy Hawkins
Camo, and with his pewter squirt
Squlbbed my pantaloons and stockings,
Till they were all over dirt I
To my mother for protection
I ran, quaking every l i m b ,
She exclaimed with fond affection,
" Gracious goodness ! look at Aim.'"
Pa cried, when he saw my garment—
T w a s a newly-purchased dress—
" Oh, you nasty little Warment,
How came you In such a mess?"
Then he caught me by the collar—
Cruel only to be ktud—
And, to my exceeding dolor,
Gave me—several slaps behind.
Grandmamma, while yet I smarted,
As she saw my evil plight,
Said—'twas rather stony-hearted—
" Little rascal I sorue bim right!"
I remember, I remember,
From that sad and solemn day,
Never more In dark December
Did I venture out to play.
And the moral which they taught, I
Well remember; thus they said—
" Little boys when they are naughty
Must be whipped and sent to bed I"
,1 T"t
OCT THE TREACHER.
irtastraight
lie took a shaft both strong and
A shaft ho baa polished with labor great.
He winged It wltb sweet eloquence,
With learning and with subtle sense.
Boldly he drew and ho aimed with oarc,
But It wounded only the Idle air.
A second be took, both straight and strong,
Winged with a passionate sense of wrong.
He drew It stoutly and aimed It u n e ;
! The mark ho aimed at wa> plain to view.
' Swift it lied, vet it lighted wide,
For It loachcd on a rock and swerved aside.
He reached hi* hand and took from abov»
A s'.endcf ;arrow barbed with love.
>. •• 1 . • •.. • . | These feet the paths of duty trodT •..•"•'« •
Ho aimed It with but little art,
. Yet It touched and wounded a human hi art.
t • * I '• *•*." ' • ' \
*?**.*tf*«£H "Shiest, was Kinged with prayer,
. And he shot it forth in the yielding air. i A n d home to Virtue's cot returned;
j These feet with angel's wings shall vie,
<»•.'•• r ^ ••- ••*
i S ° e ,*E* fo1 aim the preacher took,
.Taxhe pierced
'Ye'tlt turned to heaven hie upwatd look;
\ heart
•tplerceda both hard and proud, !
'TW. n «sJt in ail the crowd.
:•«&
•''•.'• '-;• FBKjSiSTKNCS:.
Became I be'ggtd -so bard,
She baa at last unbarred
The treasure chamber of bar fastened heart,
. And Love's feel enter In,
That waited long to win
Their war, sor would from closed door depart ;
Htl patient; faithful feet.
Find favor with my Sweet. ..
Became I begged 10 hard,
Thla, then, li iny reward— :
LOT* the wayfarer become! LOT* tbe gue*t;
No mora In itreeta of acorn. :
lie turn* away lor lore— " ' I never bed sech luck afore, la any spot or place;
Hit tired feat find roomaj>f abaded rest,
Where all their duty heat
l e cooled by my Sweet.
Became I begged ao bard,
for once my fat* ill-aUrred
It swaved by the mild might of happy moo ni.
Only one lightest touch t
Only I but oh, how much!
Lore wear!** out whom well be importunei:
And well did he entreat
Ilia mercy of my Sweet.
Became I begged ao hard.
Yean, with Bad seasons marred,
Are lightened backward aa with sudden suns.
Yea, OTW life's whole akle*
The light of her dear eyes
Travel*, like dawn and sunset shed at once,
Mixed in on* glory, meet
AU dayi, this day, my Sweet!
Because I begged so bard,
The shadow doth retard
Upon the dial on* delicious hour;
One boar that is not ioond
Within the days dull round
But added by great ixive's exerted power.
Let time more on, its beat
Is music »ow,my Sweet I...
8 till do I beg h*r bard,':: •'
lor Inner gates still guard,
And as he passed, ao LOT* again would pans;
XnUrlng In tear and bound.
Returning free and crowned.
Tho going of tbe feet shall bit, alas I
But now tbelr eager beat
Must win its way, my Sweet I
alius on a StuUton;.*
Behold this ruin I 'Twaa a skull,
Onoe of ethereal spirit full.
This narrow call was life's retreat,
This space was thought's mysterious seat.
What beauteous visions filled this spot,
What dreams of pleasures long forget;
Nor hope, nor love, nor joy, nor fear,
Have loft one trace of record her*.
Beneath this mouldering canopy
Once shone the bright and buiy e y e ; .,.
But—start not at the dismal void—
If social love that eye employed;
If with n o lawless fire it gleamed,
But through the dews of kindness beamed,
That eye shall be for ever bright
When stars and suns ore snnk i n night.
W i t h i n the hollow cavern hung '
The ready, swift, and tuneful tongue.
If falsehood's honey it disdained,
And where It could not praise, was chained;
If bold In Virtue's cause i t spoke,
Yet gentle concord never broke,
This silent tongue shall plead for tfaee
W h e n time unveils eternity. • '.
Say, did these fingers delve the m i n e r
Or with its envied rubles shine T
To hew atte rock or wear tbe gem,
Can little now avail to them.
But if the page of truth they sought,
Or comfort to the mourner brought, .
These hands a richer meed shall claim
Than all that wait,on wealth or fame.
Avails it whether bare or shod,
If from the bowers of Ease they fled,.' , '
To seek.Affliction's humble shed;
If Grandeur'* guilty bribe they spurned,
A n d tread the palace of the sky.
• The Manuscript *f the above beautiful poem was
found in the Museum *f tbe Boval College of Bur
aeons', London, placed Hear one of tbe skeletons Its
anther is unknown,
.-±a-ji'»u***ii.\• j g i r V ^
THBEE ACES.
JIM TODD'S EPISODE IK SOCIAL SVCUSB.
I don't go much on little tames of keerds played '[,
with a stranger,
Sence—durued galoot!—I took a hand on boird
the Hatches Banner, )•
'With three,smooth chape that aaid they'd like to
pass the time away
In a little social eucber, or >ome sech harmless
Play.
My hand wa* frequent Unty wltb both bower* and
the ace.
Tbe cbap next to me said, "If we was playln this
fur lucre
You'd huswus sure! We're lucky that its only »o-
cialeucher."
Rime bye tbe cbap on totber side, sez he, "If this
waspnker /(
Aud I could diskeerd two keerds, r d have a little
joker;
Td back my three remaining keerds fur all I could
afford,
i gin three keerds in any hand there is arouad this
board!"
I looked mine over. BichT You bet! I gin a
chuckle merry,
Andknow'd I had bim! "Cap," set I, "you air
my huckleberry I"
Then each of us diskeerded two, I had all actt
back,
And kuow'd tbem would lay over any three keerds I
in the pack! I
Bombing? Iguessnot! "Cap,"set I,"jestname
it If jou please!"
Sea he, "Wal. sence you air ao kind, I'll chip a V
on tlrt-se!
"Jet so," sez I, "I see your V and go two it's bet- I
fter!
ori"
"That a jest my fix," says he, "I am bound that I
won't be your debtor."
To cut'it short I went fur him, fast as a little
wagon, *
I bad a sure thing—just tbe hand lo make a hot I
old "hrag" on.
My pond got dry. He "called," me. I spread |
them acea out , A
And reached for that that "pot," I guess, without .**
a llngerin' doubt, . .
"Hold on!" sez he, "them ah- not good." Sez I,
"tbey can't be beat
By no thru keerds, Tbem sees musl be jest as
good ns wheat!"
"W»i here's tbree clubs—a flush," sez he, "a flush
will still beat threes,
And capture your three aces and the 'pot' wltb
pel tect ease!"
Plucked I Now your talkln'! I trot plucked as
bare as any goose!
I would bev fit, but 1 soon seed It wouldn't be no
use;
Them tbreesmootb chaps was on It, and wasn t
skeered at dauger.
Since then I don't go much on social eucber with a
Btranger! \CarlByng,
- « « O T B r a i u i In O n e A u o t l i e r .
Have faith in one soother,
When you meet in friendship's name,
For a true friend is a brother,
And his heart ahould be tbe same:
Though your paths In lifa may differ,
Bloc* tbe boor when first you met,
But have faith In one another,
You may need that friendship yes
Bare faith In on* another,
When you whisper-love's fond vow,
For 'twill not b* always summer,
Nor always bright a* now ;
And when winter i ime com* o'er you,
If some kindred besrt you shar*,
Then have faith in on* another,
lou shall never know despair.
Hava faith in on* another.
For ahould doubt alone Incline,
It would make this world a desert,
Where tbe sun wonld never shine.
We have all some transient sorrow.
Which o'er shadows ns to-day,
But have faith in one another,
And it soon shall pas* away.
Have faith la on*.another,
And let honor be * our guide,
Let the truth alone be spoken,
Whatever may betid*.
. The false may reign' a season,
. And doubt not but they will,
But have faith iu one another, . ; ,
And to* truth shall triumph stl'.l. X

ATJTUMH WOODS.
ruA :^*i.-Stt la the northern gale,
|Therammertresses of the.trees ate cose. - -
•The woods of Autumn, all around our Tale, •"•
\ Bare pat their, glory on.
r.i^^Themountain! that nnfold
II» round.> wide,.-sweep: the colored landscape
Mtiftr»a . . . .
Seem gioups'ofgiantltlngi In purple and gold,
That guard the enohanted ground,
ground.' " • \
. f * ! roam the woods that orown "'" 1 A
* upland, where the mingled splendors glow.
the gay company of trees look down
On the green fields below.
FUes^stling..where the painted leaves a r e l l ^ ^ W - f f J ^ W ^ S ? ^ ' ; ' * - . ' • * ' • '
• strewn-
Along the winding way..
; -:...! -And far in heaven, "the while,
The aun, that sends the gale to wander here,
Pours out on the fair earth hli quiet smile—
j > The iweeteit of the year. .
Where new the solemn shade—
Verdure and bloom where maay branches meet;
Be grateful,'when the noon of summer made
P• . " • - The valloyg slok with heatT
\ v; f\\ ....... -, . . . . . . . • . ""•TheMu\ And her day come at hist—
i '--'.- Let in through all the tree*
Come the strange rays; the foreit depths are
f bright!
Their sunn y-oolored foliage, in the breeie,
Twinkles like beams of light,
i •%
| ifcfl ?,<• The rivulet, late unseen.
Whew, bickering through the shrubiiti waters ' The fire bust out as she cWed tho bar, :
Shin:el with the image of its golden screen,
"> And glimmerings of the sun.
i . But'neathyon orimson tree.
Lover to listening maid might breathe bis flame. There was runutng and
Nor mark, within its roseate canopy,
\ Her blush of maiden shame.
• Oh Autumn I why ao soon
Depart the hues that make thy forests glad;
Thy gentle wind and thy fair sunny noon,
——---,• And leave thee wild and sad? -
. Ah I 'twere a lot too blest
Forever in thy colored shades to stray;
Amid the kisses of the soft southwest
:.." To roam and dream for aye;
And leave, the vain low ctrlfe
That makes men mad—the tug for wealth and i And Bludso's ghost went up alone
power,
The passions and the oares that wither life.
And waste its Little hour.
THE SWING.
IT stands, no beauty on the lawn,
Though beautiful to me,
The rugged, crooked, gnarled, stunted,
Blossoming apple-tree,
I love to see it rich with blooms,
OT white with feathery snow,
Ripening thoughts as well as apples,
Out .of the Long-Ago.
Twelve summers up the stream of Time;
It seems but yesterday ;
I made a swing from its sturdiest bough,
In a morn of merry May.
And from it swung my love, my life,
In the flush of her sunny youth ;
And I wooed her shyly, won her bravely,
With all her love and truth.
And now I swing another as fair,
She's nine years old, or ten,
d she laughs, and sings and shouts,
" Papa!
Swing me again ! again!"'
nd I swing her again and kiss her.
Don't kick at the stars !" I cry,
And she crackles with laughter, and says, " I
will,
. If you'll swing me up as high I"
i.Gnarly, crooked, rugged, stunted,
I* Blossoming apple-bough !
£1 do not know In the wide, wide world
Another as fair as thou 1
Three loves, tbree lives, three spirits of Hope, |
Amid thy leaves are hidden,
Ind thy fruit Is a fruit of Paradise,
Pleasant and unforbidden.
im
i-*-
{Of TBX PlUXRJffi BlIIXK.). "; ;.
Wall,'not I can't tell whar he lives, •-' .,..•
Becase he d o n t U.ve,~.you see: "" • •• -?
Leastways, he's got out of the habit',
' Of livin'like;you and me. .* <
Whar have you been for the last three year
That you have n't heard folks tell
How Jimmy Bludso passed in his checks,
' •'"
The uig U t of the Prairie Belle J • •
Ho were n't no saint—t hern engineer*
^ i s all pretty muck alike— . '•
I One wife in Natchez-under-tke-Hill
I * And another one here, in Pike. •• *
I A keerless man in his talk was Jim, *
r'AncTtn^ w ^ 4n t h a f i i o ^ l i B i a d - . ' , ;
i - .To tareatbiB englnfi-yelLfc '.'....y.".. .'
, ,~Neiferbe passed on the river*.. - > .•-.
- ; Tojnindthl?Pilot'sBeBV- ••'' -
Ahdif. e vet the' Prairio-Bsne-tbokflre—
- .--A, fcliousandtimes he swore,
Her(t hold her nozzle agin the bank
'' Tin the last soul got ashore. -•••
' " ' All bouts- has their day on the Mlssisslp, .
aetar was a hotter boat,. !...
But the) Belle she wouldn't be passed
"-And 60"ahe oome tearin'along that night-—~_;
. 'I'lle-oldest craft on the line, . My own dear wedding ring.
. .With a nigger squat on her safety valve
" ' And her furnace crammed, rosin and pine.
i • And burnt ahj)l'". tn the night,
Andqujck i j a iiaah she turned, audVinade
JjJre* that wilier-bank on the right.
cursing, but Jim yelled.
;
on*. '-*.,—•• --—•-•
,- -. - - •we**, y " * y f f " * 1* "'m
. Ovev ml the inffimal roar*. ' ,
" 111 held her nozzle agm the bmik.
Till tlio la-^galoot's asWt'oT'
Through the hotrblack ;b"ror,tU of theburnia'
bonl?, -•••-• •—• -0':'. .
v Jim Blutlso's vi^ce was heard,
- A n d theyull had tt^st.iUjhis,cu8sedness,...
;
And kuowed lib would keepr his word. -
And, suro 's you 're born, "frio> all got oil
Aforo the smokestacks fell—''* .
In the smoke of ike Prairie Jtiulle.
He were n't no snint—but at jedgment
I'd run my chance with Jim,
'Longaide of some pious gentlemen
That wouldn't shook hands with him; "
Ho seen his duty, a dead sure-thing—
And went for it thar and then:
And (Jhrist aint a goin' to bo too hard
On a man that died for meu.
A LITTLE LECTURE.
SIT still, child, if you know the way,
Cross your white arms upon your breast,
Let the dark glory of your hair
From bands escape.
'Tis wear)- always to be gay;
And sweet is silence, sweet is rest:
We drink the juices of despair
From life's crushed grape.
Why should I lecture? You are young,
And tameless as a dragon-fly,
And beautiful to look upon,
And sweet to touch.
Nothing you know of nerves unstrung.
Nor can I believe that you will die,
And go where other girls have gone.
I ask too much.
Pshaw! Flutter like a pretty bird,
Outrun the wind, outlaugh the brooks,
Flout the frail ferns with flying feet,
Outblush the rose;
Let your young petulant voice be heard
Joyous through all the forest nooks.
But where are you drifting, where—my sweet ?
! Who knows? Who knows?
T H E W E D D I N G RING.
The sky was ifboded with sunshine,
And blue—as blue as the deep—
<§
Their whlto wluga folded together ,
The clouds were fallen asleep.
She stood in her bridal whiteness,
A l'ly puro und pale,,
The iioiil ot her ringlets shining
Through the mitt of her floating veil.
And her lover, strong and stately,
In the pride of Ms* gracious yonth, 1
With a voice both deep an I tender,
Plighted his manhood's truth.
He put the r'ng on her finger—
A band ot virgin gold.
Broad and heavy It bound her,
His to have and to hold.
May It never change to a fetter,
Breaking her heart to wear;
May It be as dear as her mother's—
Is her mother's earnest prayer.
They have gone their way together,
And I sit in the summer night
A lone, with the thoughts of beauty
That flit through the soft moonlight.
I am turning on my finger
And the memories of a llfeHlme
To the narrow circlet cliug.
It Is not so broad as my daughter's,
And the years have woru It thin,
But It clasped two hearts together
Its blessed bond within—
Hearts that but knit the closer
Through life, in woe or weal—
That, present, were ever loving;
Aud, absent, were ever leal.
The years f»Q back like a curtain,
•Vnd my husband comes once more I
And I see his form in the moonlight—
I hear his hand at the door.
I /eel his to ucli on my forehead:
It falls like a seal of rest;
And my heart forgets It was tired,
As I lean my Lead ou his breast.
SONG.
BRIOHT eyes, soft eyes,
J. H. Gazing into mine;
Sweet eyes, glad eyes,
Making life divine:
Eyes so full of earuest thought,.
Full of girlish lightness,
Heaven grant no deed of mine
Shall ever dim their brightness.
Dear face, rosy face,
Smiling all for me;
Wise face, sunny face,
Beautiful to see:
Glad face, sad face,
Bounding all completeness,
Never thought or word of mine
Shall wrong its holy sweetness.
• t.yHtiU
Glad heart, dear heart,
Clinging unto mine;
Brave heart, gentle heart,
Knowing me all thine:
Heart, oh'trne-and worshipful.'
Sure to fill ^thy measure,
God will iaake me worthy
tn
°( y.fe?''' u r Passing treasure.
.xiaL

INDIAN SO"'11611'
• "«l after the death of the flower*,
And before they are burled la mow,
There come* a feeUl »**eoB, .
When Nature la all ag'ow—
Aglow with a myatlcal splendor
That rirala to* brightee** of spring—
•A»low with a beauty more lender
Than aught which fair summer could bring.
Some spirit akin to the rainbow
Then borrow* It* magical dye*,
And mantlet the fair spreading landscape
In hoe* that bewilder the eye*;
The «un from hi* cloud-pillowed chamber,
Smiles *oft on a rillon *o fay.
And dream* that hit favorite children,
The flowers, hare not yet pasted away.
There's luminous mist on tbe mountains,
A light, azure tint on the air,
As If angels while heavenward soaring.
Had left their hrlah* rohns touring there.
Tut- .Teeae Is so *',ft, w caress ng,
It a'-eius a mute token nf live.
Andflout*to tilt- lie:.nlil:c L blessing,
From s'tine happy spirit ubove.
'These days,a,, serene and so cbarmirg,
Awaken u dreamy oellghl—
A tremulous, tearful eujvyuent,
Uk» aoh-alrains of musie at night;
We know they are fudinr and fleeting,
Thai quickly, too quic.ly they'll end,
And we relch them with yearning affection,
As at purtiuc we watch a dear friend.
Oh I beautiful Indian Summer I
Thou favorite child of the year—
Thou darling, whom nature enriches
W 1th glftaand adornments to dear I
How fain would we woo thee to linger
• m mountain and meadow awhile,
For our heart* like tbe sweet haunta or nature,
Kejolce and grow young In thy smile,
Not clone to the aad fields of Autumn
Dost thou a lott brightness restore,
g
Bui itiou bringeala world-weary spirit,
Sweet ilre IIDS of hi* childhood once mora.
Thy loveliness thrill* u* with memories
Of all that w u brighteat aad beat;
Thy ;peace aud serenity offer
A foretaste of hearenly rest.
TUB WORKMAN T u N j I S WIFE, '
• #45 •
Come, Mary, throw your work aside,
And let your trouble be;£ ;
Leave care and toil and sniettj* awhile,
Aud spend an hour With me.
We'll seek the cowslip on the bank, '•>
The primrose In the lene, * ?-..y
Aud happy sight* and sound* afar . " "$.?*•
Bball make us young again <,{• ,;••'.'"
It's long, iny love, since you and I Jcjy-
Uave beard the blackhjra sing, * ^ , - .
Or caught, by running baooks and woods,,
Theglory of the Sprlfig. • ..- ,..
It's long siuce you aud I have trod , i,
The paths where hawfhorju blow—: ',*
Then, Mary, fling yonr wort aside,
And let your trouble* go, "
•;'Vv :,• ,•„-•-. j y 6 «
The tree* shall bend to welcome lis
Theflower*shall clasp our feet,
The very bee* 'l"|)i)iy,"",nur nrnlnn
In murmurs *ol^n - Of victors' tntmpeU, in full pomp and state
The winds shall swell, nisuggpjroYoice «-
The chorus high auit^sJflMBsn^.,'. ?•, K•
And we'll forget the ^ » W liulfjv :..'•
Aud all its busy cro'
A thousand things await us,
blue skiea and balmy air^.-*>$ -v-- - V Without a conscious purpose of his own
Qreenflaldm WIIOM very tlgnt'aiiatf H**\ke
The heart forget its Mlw££.'}% '
Than neW aig^-4>e glad to4&£fcL.
- Tbtow^orrowto tlu wind—^i-^fv.
yn^if^rro#i»tUwini-d^S !
V'' i ''' ~~--
»or>ausAVJtwe>U«%ieapBt^l^^-- - ' v
•"• £aumm«>J>wl»uti
' I'-ti-'iiirru s».iii.i. 1 d.v>'Vf.'
11- ••' <-- •• '^vi.'
.i*, . I
•ssrsifeS'
J:^*..Vf '-••
TWO VOICES OK ST. V.&XEirriNE'S DAT.
BY CLIO STANLEY.
J>o yon remember, IODJC »go.
When our yoiinx ueurts went Maying;
Through February's wind and mow
Went gentle fancies piny I up;
How happy thought lu happy thought.
In silence tweet replying.
Bade Trouble heed Dame Sorrow's need.
And restless Doubt beflying?
A long, long time It was ago t
'Til like some st>ry olden!
Tour cheeks were like the rose of June,
Tour pretty curls were golden;
Tour eyes1 soft blue was like some flower
Down in the wlldwood springing;
Tour voice was music, sweeter titan
The birds. In summer singing!
But Love was then a tender bud
In Life's bright gnrland growing.
And Hope was but a little slur,
Now faint, now brighter glowing!
And lover's vows were words as yet
That bore no subLlc meaning:
For we were only children then.
Of childish pleasures dreaming!
But Time flew 011 — his wings he spread
O'er flowery fields aud meadows,
Till down our sun-engirdled way
There fell koine sombre shudows;
Tct, sweet result! Love grew as fust
As ever Sorrow dared to,
And, still together, you and I
Found all the Joy we cared to!
Hope's little star grew big, until
It filled the blue above us;
Till angels on their snowy wings
Bent kindly down to love us.
But oh! my heart w « warmest when,
f The vows of others scorning,
Tou whispered, " I'm pour Valentine, M
. One February morning!
II.
Aye, long ago! long, long ago!
And yet the years grow sweeter!
As we go down life's sunny bill.
Each short day grows completer t
My brow Is growing wrinkled, but
Love's blossom hangs above It;"
I care not, though my face ©« pa*W#
w If only you still love III
My eyes are growing dimmer now,
My voice haa a aad quaver;
But, as my body weaker grows.
My heart. It grows the braver! - - *
In our dear children's faces we
Still ace June roses shining, ' ,'
And buds, from oft* our withered bough*.
Their young brows are eutwinlugl.
Let winter come, and winter go—
1 We heed not stormy weather;'
The world Is full of sunshine, while.
Our paths lie both together!
And I am still your Valentine,
A* on that gone-by morning,
When Love, In spite of wind and snow.
Our way was bright adorning!
Now. hold my hand in yours, good man,
The morning breaks above me;
I mis* your smile—the way grows dark-
Yet I am sure you love me!
And if I go before yon, John,
Remember not to worry;
For you are still my Valentine,
And I'm your Jeanle Laurie!
TRIUMPH.
BY HKLEX HUNT.
Not he who rides through cononered citr'a grate,
At bead of blazoned hosts, and to the sound
Of war, tbe nrmnat pitch has dreamed or found
To which tbe thrill of triumph can be wound;,;
Not he whoby a nation's r u t acclaim
I s sudden soughLand singled out alone,
And, while the people madly shont his name,
la swung andllfled to the nation's throne;
^; ... f »,: • ST •
But he who hag all single-handed stood, -"
/With fees invisible on.every side.
And, unsuspected of the multitude, ••
The force of iale-ltself has dared, defied,
A n d conquered silently—
•,,z\.x:..- Ah, that sonl knows
In what Trhlte heat the blood of triumph glows! •
THE HAPPY NEW YEAB.
BY CLIO STASLKT.
Blithely the gay winds come aud go.
All In the wintry weather.
And under a roof-tree, piled with snow.
Cheerily slug together,
Blue-eyed Maud and black-eyed Nell,
A welcome to tile morning;
While happy lover* wait without
To view young love'* adorningl
*' 'Tla the New Year! Now come and go,
Chill winds around our dwelling, s
More musical thMi summer song
The story ye arc tolling!''
Twin roses blossom on your check*.
And shy, blue violet* glisten
Within your happy eye*, down-dropped,
A* Joyously you listen!
Sweet Nell, her black eyes full of mirth,
And cheerfulness npshiuing
Upon her smlllnir face, each thought
And fancy Is divining:
A bright dream dlppeth in Iter heart.
And set* her mouth a-ijulvcr.
As wben a song bird stirs Hit sun
Light ou some happy river!
Now coinc and go, ye tender thought*,
To eaoti young heart replying;
For love Is as a May-day bright
Through summer fields a flying!
And lover's SOURS, though passing sweet.
Are fleet as blrdllng's wlna-s are;
And fading all these shy delights.
As thousand happy things are I
Braid your bright hair, my bonuy Maud,
All In the wintry morning:
'Tls tile New Year, and much I fear
You will not heed my warning;
And lift your eyes, my dark-eyed Nell,
The sunshine still Is falling;
Ah. both are listening to hear
His tender accents calling!
Frosty the winter—" But as fair
As sunny, summer weather.
When fresh, young heart*, lu the glad New Year,
Merrily come togelherl
A bower of bloom Is your rngged world,
Alight with stars and roses,
And happy dreams, that a winter's ulght
To tbe tar-off spring discloses!"
Yet the dawn of a New Year's day Is fled,
And a little shadow falletb;
Out In the garden, no more hi* voice
Through the wintry twilight calleth I
The New Year* come, aud the New Years go,
Adown tbe solemn river;
Full soon our heart* must cease to beat.
Forever and forever I
Lady Fair.
'•I beech tree si Urns,
TJnderuent 1 tfc Hl.it? knitting.
With that ovorla -adows flitting
Jows flittinjf
And the soft sun-si •ary hair;_
_
Through your 1 '-^a "confusing,
All my n o u g h t s and pi. «uo»usr,
All my resolution losing, ^uain_
Bay, what matter's in your L ' " a " *
Lady lair ? „
Oh, the charm that In your f aoa 1
Is" '••
All tbe loves and all the grace 1
To be clasped in your embraces .
Monarch'! guerdon were:
Not a man, I ween, who sees you, V
But would give bis life to please you,
Yet yon say—that lovers teage you 1
Lady fair 1 i
While tbe summer br&zes fan her
Gently with their leafy banner,
Venus' form and Diaua's manner
*-»•- . P i l t t my goddess wear t
Lives the man w n o ean discover
Any secret spall to move her
To tbe wish of mortal lorer,
• ColdMltYlr? _^, ,
-But to tee those dark eyes brighten.
And for me with kindness lighten.
aVhlle the cheek's rich colors heighten,
What would I not dare?
To inform their scornful splendor
With the love-light soft and tender.
Bow the proud heart to surrender, -
m Lady fair 1 .
By thiS lives that tbou hast broken;
By the words that I have spoken, .' •
' '
By the passion they betokeu,
I nave loved; I swear, , -„-.
Only thee siaoe I have seen thee,,
And ifrf woman's heart be in thee,' •-.''.',-'
1 win t« but I will win thee, .. • ••-
• <• sjsadyfalrl • ..; . V--
J
" HtPS "T«-"-V*>? '«?Wu ' L*
•^jMB^«m&&aB&
 Miss dolly was seated beneath a pine tree,
A S M * A1TD WILLIS'S. PB1YEE By the aide of a table spread out for her tea:
A work-box well tilled in the center was laid,
The following poem, written by Mrs. Sophia P. And on it a ring, for which Annie had.prayed.
A soldier in uniform stood by a sis J, .-.
Bnow, Is on* of the most exquisitely touching sod ''With bright shinning runners and all painted
beautiful that we hare *T«r read. It cannot fail red.' 1 . '.' " ; , *XL ,
to reach the hearts of all who peruse It, beside* There were balls, dogs and horse*, books pleasing
to see, ... . .:* ; j . . .
being peculiarly appropriate to the. holidays: And birds of all colors were perched in (hetree;
While Santa Claus, laughing, stood up in the tops
'Twe* the ere before Christmas; "Good night' : As if getting ready more present* to drop'. .
- had been said. And as the fond father tbe picture surveyed,
And Annie and Willie had crept into bed; He thought for his trouble he had' amply been
T h e n were tears on their pillows, and tears in paid, •
their eyes, And he said to himself, a*- he brushed on* a tear,
And each Utile bosom wss heary with sighs— "I'm happier to-aight. than I're been for a year.
For to-night their stem father's command had I're enjoyed more true bltasure than erer before,
been riven, : What eare I If bank stockfails ten per cent, more 1
That they should retire precisely at seven, Hereafter I'll make it a rule, I believe,' ••-••• •
Instead of eight; for they troubled him more To hare Santa Claus -visit us each Christmas Ere,
With questions unheard of than erer before; So thinking, be gently extinguished the light
He had told them he thought this delusion a sin, And tripped down the stairs to retire far the night.
No such being as "Santa Claus" erer had been, As soon as the beama of- the bright morning sun
w And he hoped, after this, he should never more
hear
Futrthe darkness to -flight, and the stars, one by
one, • '.
How he scrambled down ohtmneys with presents Four little bine eyes out of sleep opened wide.
I,-
g>
i^.*."'
Lucy alone at the window'
Softly and cozily rooks, !. •
Busily plying the needle,
Dnrning ber husband's old socks ; '•'•I
-*,'yi
Loving and sweet little woman,
Fond of each housewifery core.
No uueen in her royal palnco
With Lucy in wealth can compare.
White is the floor of tbe kitchen,-
Soft sings the kettle for_t6»,_''>
And out in the bright Summer garden.
Children are sporting in glee.
Down in the clover-clad meadows
Loud rings the blithe power's steel,
Musical sounds of dear home-lire
y
As sweet, artless Lucy can feel.

each year. And at tbe same moment the presents espied, Skillfully plying the needle
And this was the reason that two little heads Then out of their.beds they sprang with a bound, Over and under the yarn,
So restlessly tossed on their soft, downy beds. And the very gifts prayed ibr were- all of them
• Eight, nine, and the-clock on the steeple tolled fen ; found. Filling sad rents with a patience
Not a word had been spoken by either till then, They laughed and they cried' in their innocent Known to those only who darn:
When Willie's sad face from the blanket d{d peep, • glee, . • Lucy hems in with her stitches
And whispered, "Dear Annie, Is you fast asleep t" And snouted for "papa" to come quick and see
"Why, no, brother Willie," a sweet roice replies, What presenta old Santa Claus'Jbrought In the Thoughts bright with lore as a gem,
"I'T* tried It In rain, but I can't shut my eyes; night,- ' '* Happily toiling for Richard,
For, somehow, it makes me so sorry because (Just the things that they wanted,) and left before The dearest and noblest of men !
Dear papa has said there la no 'Santa Claus;' light. . ' . . _ » :
Now we know there Is, and it can't be denied, ' " And now," added Annie, in a roice soft and low,
For he came erery year before mamma died; '"You'll believe there's a Santa Glaus, papa, I Swift, and more swift flies the needle,
But then, I've been thinking that she used to pray. know;" - •• The meshes'are filled ono by one ;
And God would hear everything mamma would While dear little Willie climbed up on his knee, At last the big holes are nil mended.
•ay. Determined no secret between them should be;
perhaps she asked him to send SantaJClaus And told, in soft whispers, how Axnle had said
And perhai The week's tusk of darning u done.
here, That their dear, blessed mamma so long ago dead, I BntwillOick—.ih, tlio'denrcitrcleas fallow!—
With the sacks fall of present* he brought erery 1Used to kneel down and pray by the side of her Know when his wife sings and rocks,
year." - ••, .•• ebair,
"Well, why tan't we pay deet as mamma did theo, And that God up in heaven had answered her She fastens her be:irt in the stitches
And ask him to send him with presents adenf" • prayer I She weaves iu his old, worn-out socks ?
"I'TO been thinking so, too." And without a word "Then we dot up and payed dust as well as we
more tould.
Four little bare feet bounded out on the floor, And Dod answered our prayers, uow wasn't Ho
And four little knees the soft carpet preased, dood?" , T H E HTTnrBT.Tl BTJftTATi.
And two tiny hands were clasped close to eaoh "I should say that He was, if He sent you'all BY 3(118. M. A. KIDDER.
breast. these,
"Now, Willie, you know we most irmly believe And knew just what presents my children would There was no earthly pomp,
No splendor, no display,
\
That the presents we ask for we're sure to receive; please.
You must wait just as still till I say the 'Amen,' (Well, well, let him think so, the dear little elf, To herald in the spotless soul
And by that you will know that 'your turn has 'Twouid be cruel to tell him I did it myself.") Through gates of shining day I
come then." Blind father! who caused your stern heart to re- A snowy cotton robe,
lent T
"Dear Jesus, look down on my brother and me,
And grant us the farer we are asking of Thee; - And the hasty word spoken so soon to repent?
1
A coffin poor and plain,
Shrouded the little lifeless form i
I want a wax dolly, a tea*set and ring. Twa* the Being wbo bade you steal softly up stairs They ne'er would see again.
And an ebony work-box that shuts with a spring; And made you nis agent to answer their prayers.
Bless papa, dear Jesus, and cause him to see Of all the beauteous (lowers
That Santa Claus loves us far better than he, That in God's garden grows.
Don't let him get fretful and angry again .tintA.'I lo ^id-.n*•• I . a a j V 7 i > | }<•—' There lay upon the pulseless breast
At dear brother, Willie and Annie, Amen I" .•.One day In tlie-'blUfSt-'bPiilifninertvciHh' r, But one fair opening rose;
"Please, Desus.'et Santa Taus turn down to-night, And that was wet with dew,
And bring us seme presents before it Is ight, Sketching under * whispering-dak,
Tbe holiest that e'er fell—
I wsnt he should dive me a nice little sed,; ixbean* tSv« bobollnltekf^liltJS together A mother's bitter, priceless tears-
With bright, shiny runners, and all painted yed; . ,jGveT.soine ornithological joieV' '• How sacred who can tell!
A box full of tandy, a book and a toy, , -4 f i*t .'o:.i J '«; '-'hmfltl v i / r o »rfi.
Amen, and then, Desus, I'll be a good boy." ' No grand display of woe,
Their prayers being ended, they raised Vp their ,(I)Vhat.Ui(3iirgti)'wasi:l Couldli't.discover— No crowded, bustling throng,
heads, • Language .of birdsls-a riddle, oiheartb: When angels bore the babe to Join
And with hearts light and cheerful again'sought Whtrt coulU titer llndilrj a*aite<weed auci The hallelujah song.
their beds: .U.iVrXViClQvex . j ^ J f i l M M t l i »1>J Yet there was Joy hi heaven,
They were soon lost in slumber, both peaceful and That through the ilelda of light
deep, . .To..«pUt iJieir sides.with *uch uin.si>:;tl
One seraph more would wing Its way
And with fairies in Dreamland were roaming In .•' -i-i.: mirthf . ' . . t 3 .!<S»;5 ':•• On pinions fair and bright.
/J sleep. J S i '-'*• IU !--"4 .'I .-It--:* .Y. .1>A: M •
'Eight, nine, end the little French clock bad struck Was It,sonie.prauk of theprpdJgHlsmntner,
.'•vv ten.
' Faces lu : the cloud or Voice^aitlie breeze—
Ere the father had thought of his children again:
Ha seems now to hear Annie's half-suppressed . Querulous cat-bird—Avpodpecjterdrummer SE- hfle the mass art* ©fotns 33}>.
' sighs,. • •
And to see the big tears stand in Willie's blue ' \. Ctt'wjrig'of crows lijgh, qver: the trees ?
" --eyes. • , « . - Was Vt sonicfchip-muiik's'cTJafter,or weasel Thero are lonely hearts to cherish.
"I wss harsh with my darlings." he mentally said,
"And should not hare sent them so early to bed; • Under the stone-yhll s,tcft}thy and sly?
' But then I was troubled—my feelings found rent, Or^wa*'thc^qkeartf uVftie a l m y easel,
While the days are going by;
There are weary souls wbo perish
While the days are going by;
•I
l For bank-stock to-day has gone down ten per cent.
But of course they're forgot their troubles ere this
And that I denied them the thrlce-asked-for kiss; liiWWSltyfyt%WWfM«^ • If a smile we can renew,
As our journey we pursue,
But, just to make sure, I'll steal up to their door, Still thej^fletf'tipsiiv;3haking all over, Oh! the good we sdl may do,
. For I never, spoke harsh to my darlings before." r<^Bubblhig i \Titfi*jollt^rtrflful of glee—
. So ssylng, he softly ascended the stairs,
And arrived at the door to hear both of their •While 1 s a t listening deepW the clover
While the days are going by I I
••':WorideHiig^hatith'efr1,fa'r<ron could be. There's no time for Idle scorning
prayers. 0
While the days ore going by;
•r His Annie's "bleu papa" drawa forth the big tears, 1 .-jUiio-i. l-.'i ••«*? -*r.M ilfc-t .. —
And Willie's grave promise falls sweet on his ears. 'TWas but".the..voicei'-«f-i*-nioriiiug the Lot our face be like the morning
I "Strange, strange I'd forgotten," said he with a brightest ..'jM&atall .<i i i. • While the days are going by ;
sigh, Ob I tho world Is foil of sighs,
"Ho I longed, when it child, to hare Christmas {:wThntev£r. dawned .'©vef kvni shadowy Full of sad and weeping eye*.
draw nigh. i>3il: £,iihiUs^ur'i .<;*>2 bins al u*nw>
"I'll atone for my harshness," be Inwardly said, 'JXwas bufctbsisong otjill -Joy tlfat Is light- Help your fallen brother rise
"By answering their prayers ere I sleep in my While the days axe going by.
lutta-i; .iest-^-'t' ai f.Ku>ji i«j/'»:* ,»iftirt
Then he turned to the stairs and softly went down, > sbauslirinebreatdrnrVtriatlgliter n'nd'trills. All the loving links that bind us
Threw on* velvet slippers and silk dressing-gown— While the days are going by,
Donned bat, coat and.boots, and waa out in the "^rrif ,eM*IJ'«9l» U» «%JM,Mf<tl .T:r"li One by one we leave behind us
street, '— i-yMi^. tp:a^flnjectute'.the, w.orda-they arc
A millionaire feeing the cold, driving sleet. While the duj-s are going by;
Nor stopped be until he had bought erery thing. >j 'c< iti.M^lngbigi «!» ua i > * v » .*;n-'

1
But tbe seeds of good we sow,
From the box full of candy to the Uny gold ring; n (Pnly.bytoues can wcroliow the tune; Both in shade and shine will grow.
Indeed, ha kept adding so much to his store, Jn. theJJU1 heart of the summer fields ring- And will keep our hearts aglow
'T h a t the various presents outnumbered a score,
t; Then homeward he turned with his holiday load, Kitjf-t'Wtjing,'!" <**i>i-!>\{~+J l*ij. A While the day* u s going by.
And with Aunt Mary's aid in the nursery 'twas l>i¥Ungingjiui/ythmical gladness of June J
I- stowe4l:^,.....-^ T r^ K 4..,ii_d«.. _ ; . .....

(jilmaster's Reverie.
m **$( CEABLBS DICKENS.
'When the lessons and tasks are all ended,
,'. yAnd the school for the day is dismissed,
; And the little ones gather around me,
• To bid m e good-night and be kissed ;
On, the little white arms that encircle
' ' My neck In their loving embrace;
• Oh, the smiles' that are halos of heaven,
. "Shedding sunshine of love on my face.
And when they are gone, I sit dreaming
Of my childhood too lovely to last, .*'
Of love that my heart will remember,
i When it wakes to the pulse of the past,
/' Ere the world and its wickedness made me
A partner of sorrow and sin j
' -JK* 1 6 0 ft8 g l o r J of Ood w f t s about me,
*-An\th ; e glory of gladness within.
e
- 0k» niy heart grows weak as a woman'*,
'liindHne fountains of feeling will flow,
When I think of the paths steep and stony,
, Where the feet of the dear ones must go ;
Of the mountains of sin banging o'er them,
" Ot the tempest of Fate blowing wild ;
Oh ! there's nothing on earth half so holy
.... , As the Innocent heart.of a child.
'• 3STA ""*' • ' • i An,'sir, If she hadn't a'done so
• VXhey are idqls of hearts and of households ;
. They are angels of God in disguise ;
His sunlight still sleeps in their tresses,
' 'tils glory still gleams in their eyes ; I Wrapped in quiet all the hours —
O h i those.truants from home and from heaven,
They have made me more manly and mild,
And I know how Jesus could liken
: With an air of s w e e t e s t balm,
-- T h e Kingdom of God to a child.
Task? not a life for the dear ones,
All radiant,'as others have done,
i . But that life may have Just enough shadow
.,„ To tamper the glare of the sun.-
I would pray"God to guard them from evil,
•"• B i t 1 my prayer would bound back to myself,
. . A h 1, a seraph may pray for a sinner,
But a sinner, must pray for himself.
.'jj ;.i tiki i.'ij, . : • .
• The twig.is BO easily bended,
I have banished the rule and the rod ;
. I have taught them the goodness of knowledge,
w',l> They, have taught me the goodness of God ;
.•(¥>' feS^r-i* a dungeon of darkness,
, ,, Where I shut them for breaking a rule;
' . My frown Is sufficient correction ;
My love is the law of the school.
• I shall leave the old house in the Autumn,
•ijU.TO traverse its threshhold no more ;
j ; ; Ah 1! bow. I shall sigh for the dear ones i Over her bosom, and down to her feet.
That meet me,each morn at the door 1, '
I shall miss the "good-nights " and the kisses,
»0 K And the gush of their innocent glee, i
i,jTbe'grbnp,onthe green, and the flowers I.
-uf Tb^.ai^brOTght every morning to me. , "And hold him safe from the wlud that blows—
I shall miss, them a t morn and at evening,
: ' Thelrsong in the school and the street^
•^jflfcajTmiaS t h e low h u m o r their voices;
AUfyM tn?&am'p of their delicate feet; '
fi (VVheii'tEa' lessoni. ai'd tasks are all ended,
"Bay*,-/,' The school Is dismissed 1"
ones gather around me,
m:m e'fcood-nlght and be kissed.
,W*£ TTD2 SNOvT-DUOP,
~fb» j w n M r o p i» the herald ot the flowers,
:'. Sen(w1tltm:*V>u. »*^</W of truce to plsad , ..
lj^i>M»air«rs<er«tAren.-irappUantlv ST'„'.".«.•*
j t m ) H W » « i n « t to withdraw his trodp" ""^
Of-irinU>;»«d.Uu«t«riiigBtoiiiu; and hatiua i*>»
%^jilfihpi*»>m»oftUerTWui
[weetweodj
DR5FTESG.
Come, my darling, let UB float
In the moonlight, down the
We w i l l dream a fairy boat'
Bears us on and on forever.I
Past the rushes by the shores,
By the gnarled and tangled w i l l o w s ,
W t will drift with idle oars.
i
Ob, my darling have you dreamed
'Of some islam! in the ocean,
Where the tranquil waters seemed
Never stirred by winds' commotion !
Whcro the bul-bul sang all day
In the meadows bright with flowers,
:
And strange sweet quiet lay
Over a l l , through sunniest hours !
I have dreamed of such an isle,
In its tropic beauty lying
Underneath the skies' warm srailo,
And the strokes of Time defying.
There the heart would ne'er grow old,
But be young and glad forever ;
Of such islainls poets told
Long ago, but found them never.
Darling, in our bearls may be
Linda as fair with sun and flowers,
Lying in a boundless s e a ,
Love's own quiet, deep and calm.
Only thrilled with birds' glad sirigin*-
Kc3t upon its breezes bringin..
Darling, will our hearts grow old
If we drir.k the draughts of sweetness
That each lily rhal'ce ho'ds,
Eritrming full of love's completeness,
T o our Itpl ? My darling, no."
Love will keep them warm forever.
Drink, my darling, i s w e go
Drifting down the river.
AFTEE BETEOTHAL.
BT H£SZ£B A. BENEDICT.
I.
Girdle >nd laces are laid aside,
Bracelet! and rings in Uielr casket He, • Bill Mason's on time to-nlgbt I
And tlie sheeny folds of a crimson robe
Lie in Ibe moonlight, silently.
II.
In soft white raiment that nutters and floats
By her pearl of a couch the maiden kneels—
And what Is the prayer that her lips repeat ?
in.
'' Christ keep my darling!"—(his name held close,
Lest the angels, HsteDlng, learn too much)—
And hold him safe from the Reaper's touch."
"For uiy sake, rather!" the pleading face
Flushing to crimson, that even in prayer
So much be said—and her hand astray,
Where a breath hides still In her perfumed balr.
'•: T-
,." For my sake. Father! whose Inmost life
Finds holiest strength In his guiding love;
And lead us each, lu tulne own sweet time,
• . To the perfect peace of Xhy saints above." '
. r,i, "•• .;•:,;'.." .
A delicate flutter of all the snow • -,. ,-
That covers her bosom anddiidetb her feet.
And the maiden lleth, with lips aglow.
Where scents of'lavender linger sweet
VII.
And sinking there to l<er happy dreams.
Circled by moonbeams weird and dim.
She whispers softly: "Myklngwlll know, .
By the peace In bis soul, that 1 prayed for Mm."
B I L L MASON'S B B I D B .
BY omqciTA
Half an hour till train time, sir,
An' a fearful dark night, too,
Take a look at the switch-lights, Tom,
&
Fetch in a stick when you're through
"On time?"well, yes, 1 guess so—
Left the last station all right— gj
She'll come round the curve a flyin'—
Bill Mason comes np to-night.
Yon know Bill J No 1 He's engineer ;
Been on the road all his life —
I'll never forget the mornln'
He married his chunk of a wife.
'Twas the summer the mill hands struck—
Jest off work, every one ;
They kicked up a row In the village
And killed old Donovan's son.
/
Bill hadn't been married mor'n an hour,
' TJn comes a message from Kress
OrJeriu' Bill to go np there
And bring down the night express.
He left his gal in a hnrry,
And went np on number one,
Thlukin'oruothin'bnt Mary
And the train he had to ran.
And Msry sat by tbe window
' To wait for tbe night express,
She'd been a widow, 1 gness.
For It mnst 'a' been nigh midnight
When them mill bands left the Ridge—
They come down -thf drunken devils I
Tore np a rail frou tbe bridge.
But Mary heard 'em a workin'
And guessed there was somethln' wrong—
And in less than fifteen minutes
Bill's traiu It would be along I
She.couldn't 'a' come hers to tell ui,
A mile—it wouldn't 'a' done—
So she Jest grabbed np a lantern
And made for the bridge alone.
Then down came the express, sir,
And Bill was makln'her climb I
But Mary held the lantern,
A ewingiu' it all tbe time.
Well'. by Jove I Bill saw the signal,
And he stopped tbe nlgbt express,
And be found his Mary cryin'
On tbe track, in ber weddln' dress ;
Crying' an' langhln' for Joy, sir,
An' holdin' on to the light—
Hello I here's the train—good bye, sir,
GOD'S ALMOOTSB,
A maiden fair once said to me,
Sirprned at my too b Id advance,
"You need the grace cf Gcd I see—
Tou false knight wiih tbe broaen lance;
M in's own deserts have never won
A woman's worthiest benison."
Alas, too true, my heart replies,
Bnt tfai> great tru:b sends back to her:
In this sad world no man denies
Tbat woman is God's almoner,
And hei'o tbe mission high to fill-
To grant h.s grace almost at will.
One-half tbe Christian world to-dsy
Will bow at sacred Mary's lbrone,
While all tbe other half wdl pray
Each to a Mary of his owo—
Nor prav In vain, for God will be
-Within His highest mystery.
He lives an! moves in noble hearts,
His (race abounds in woman's breast.
An I li»r warm love His love imparts
To all whom it halh truly blessed:
How manv a fiend the world bath known,
Who, truly loved, a saint bad grown.
Come, then, Grand Almoner of Him
Who made tbe heart and knows l u need:,-.
Ccme, aacre 1 woman I 8 .'raphlm
Aud angels hear for what I plead, - '•-•• ;»'
And tbeywlll hold their sister true
Or fjlse by what I gain from you.
 n " WW J _, „-*T~l — t W — — — MM • ~l
-** " T H E D I A M O N D ' S
BY THOMAS DCNN ENGLISH.
STOBT.
Ill — Mill II

Qems thst on the brow of beauty, In their splendor

flash and glow.
From whose sunlight-smitten centres liquid rain-
bows ever flow,
These could many a tale of wonder tell to eager-lis-
tening e a r s -
Tales made up of Joy and sorrow, hope, depression,
smiles and tears;
Tales of passion quiet and fiery; tales of avarice
slow and cold;
Such as sang the Wander-singers In the wondrous
days of old.
This my story—mine. He found me, on a morn-
ing calm and s t i l l -
He, a thick-lipped, ebon bondman—In the sands of
the Brazil.
High he leapt, and loud he shouted, " 'Tls a twenty
carat stone!
How It glitters! Blessed Mother! now my manhood
is my own I"
For the finding broke his shackles, and my purity
and size,
B> the custom of the miners, brought his freedom
as a prize.
I was carried thence to Holland, where a workman
wan and gray
Gave back beauty for the fragments that his wheel-
rim wore away;
There the dealers came to view me, and the burgh-
ers, young and old.
And the high-born dames and stately, till one morn-
ing I was sold—
Sold unto a proud French noble, old in vice, In years
a boy,
And he sent me to an actress, as he might have sent
a toy.
Much the laughing beauty loved me, showed me to
admiring dames;
Sat alone and gazed upon me, calling me endearing
names;
More she loved me than the giver, as It took no seer
While his gifts she craved, her fancy sought a lower
man than he—
Sought a workman strong and rugged, all devoid of
courtly grace,
With the muscles of a wrestler, and a lion's grimly
fare.
Rose the long down-trodden masses—cap of wool
against the c r o w n -
Heaved the earthquake of a people, toppling fane
and palace down;
Seed of wrong sown broadcast, growing, threw up
many a blossoming shoot,
Coming up to plague the sowers with a crop of
bloody fruit;
Day and night at. horrid revel, (lends in shape or
man were seen;
Day and night were victims wedded to the guillotine
Fell my mistress: ere they slew her, :o her swarthy i
lover she
Sent—his death In turn awaiting—as a parting
token, me;
He, ere dying, to a comrade, for a draught of brandv,
gave
What were ransom for a monarch, then went
drunken to his grave:
And that comrade would have followed in a little
fortnight more,
Had not Robespierre's bitter ending opened wide
the prison door.
Me he looked at and remembered as the gem he 'd
given away
Long before he hid from hunters bat to later be
their prey;
Some he thought of earlier pleasure, ere he used his ,
limbs for hire.
Ere his wealth was snatched by spoilers, ere his cas- !
ties fell by tire;
But he merely shrugged his shoulders, then he sold
me gold to gain
That would bear him o'er the mountains to a shelter I
safe In Spain.
When Napoleon's star of glory blazing to its zenith
rose,
When he stood, self-made, a monarch, over abject
•41 kings, his foes.
I was bought, and set with others on the crown
Imperial's rim—
H On the crown whose Inches never added stature
unto him—
Him who never sought for Jewels, lu3tre to his
deeds to lend;
Him who ever Bpurned such baubles, save as means
to reach an end.
& Monarchs four since then have worn me—what
care I for such as they ?
What showed they to match In glory aught In great
Napoleon's day 1
One a gross, good-natured creature, lazily lolling
on his throne;
One a senseless bigot, losing power by folly of his
own;
THE ANCELOF THE HOUSEHOLD.
Her name shines not In bannered field
Where Right and Wrong so boldly war;
Nor rings her voloe in any cause
Which men and women battle for; *
Tet in her presence, subtle, sweet,
You long to kneel and kiss her feet.
No wondrous romance wreaths lier life;
Nor hath she led a martyr train;
Nor beautiful nor rich is she:
lint poor—and some would call her plain;
Yet in her two dear eyes you see
A beauty shining constantly.
No silken robe en folds her form I
Nor dainty leisure hath her hands;
Her jewels are a simple ring;
A ribbon binds her hair's soft bands;
Yet In her garments simple grace
Hersoul's regality you trace.
No gift has she to shake and thrill
A thankless world with warbled son;s;
And art that wakes the ivory keys
To other hands than ners belongs;
Yet In her words of tender cheer
A richer music charms the ear.
She walks in humhle ways of Ufe
That lead oft-times thro' gloom and shade;
And cares and crosses net a few,
Are on her patient sboolders laid:
Ytt smiles and drinks each bitter cup,
Anil keeps her brave eyes lifted up.
And homely ways she wreaths with grace,
Harsh duty turns to loving zest;
And cbeery hope and steadfast will
Are at her side, in work and rest;
Yet never dreams she you can spy
The angel looking tromher eye!
S H E A N D I.
Why do I love my lev* so well!
Why is she all in all to me!
I try to tall, I cannot tall,
It still ramaiaa a myiUry;'
And why ta her 1 am to daar
I cannot tall although I try,
Unless 1findboth answers here ;
She Is hanalf and I am I.
Her face Is vary sweet to ma,
Uer ayaa beam tenderly on mln*;
But can I say I never .saw
Faca fairer, ayaa that brighter iblnal
This thing I surely cannot lay
If I spaak the truth -ad do sot He;
Yet hers I am In love to day.
Tor she's herself and I am I.
It cannot ba that I fulfil
Completely all her glrllah dreams.
For far beyond my raal still
Harold ideal sorely glaams;
And yat I know her lova Is mtoo,
A Sowing spring that cannot dry,
What explanation! This Is fine:
Sh* Is harelt and I am L
I Mid all the cords by which fond hearts
Ar* drawn together into one;
This it la which nav*r parts.
But str*nth*ns as the yaars roll on;
And though, aa laaaona hurry past,
Grace, beauty,wlt, and genius die,
Till the last hour this charm will last;
Sh* Is herself and I am I.
She Is h*rt*lf and I am I. ••-
Now, henceforth, ev*r more tb* sam*,
Till the dard angel drawath nlgh,
And calleth her and m* by nam*.
Yes, after Death ha* don* his worst,
Each risen soul will straightway ti y
To meet the other. As at tvr*t
She'll be herself, I ahall b* I. ;• ••
PATIENTIA;
Toll on, 0 troubled brain,
With anxious thoughts and busy scenes oppuased ;
Era long release shall reach the*. A brief polo I
BY OEOROE MEREDITH,
Oh, might I load my arms with thee,
Like that young lovor of Romance,
Who loved and gained so gloriously
The fair Princess of France I •
Because he dared to love so high,
He, bearing her dear weight must speed .
To where the mountains touch the sky;
Go, the proud King deoreed.
Unhaltiug he must bear her o n , "
Nor pause a pace to gather breath,
Aud on the height she should be won;
And she was won In death I
Red the far summit flames with worn,
While in the plt.J the glistening Court
Surrounds the King who practiced scorn
Through such a mask of sport.
She leans unto his arms; she lets
Her lovely shape be clasped; be fares,
God speed him whole! the knigbts mskes beis;
The ladies lift soft prayers.
Ob, have you seen the deer at chase?
Oh have you seen the wounded kite!
So boundlngly he runs the race,
So waveriug grows his flight.
"My lover! linger here and slake
Thy thirst, or me thou wilt not win."
' 'See thou the tumbled heavens! they break:
They beckon us up and i n . "
"Ah, hero-love! unloose thy hold;
Oh, drop me like a cursed thin,;."
' 'See' st thou the crowded swards ot gold
They wave to us Rose and Ring. '
• 'O death-white mouth? 0 cast me down!
1
Thou dtest? Then with thee I die."
'See' st thou the sngels with a Crown '.'
We twain haveyeached the sky.
[ Fi om Harper's Bazur ]
DINUIM; SHEAVES.
BY J E J N IKOELOW,
liirl I a lover binding sheaves
To bis maiden tings:'
Flutter, flutt**-. gotheleives;
Larks drop inelr wiags.
Little brooks for all their mirth
Are not blithe as he.
" Give me what the love is worth
That I glvo thee,
' 'Speech that cannot ba fo borne
Tells tb* story through;
I sowed my love In with the corn,
And they b*tb trr*w.
Count the world full wide of gtrtb,
And hived honey sweet.
But count tb* love of mors worth
Laid at thy feet.
1
'Money's worth Is house aad Uni,
Velvet cost and vast.
Work's worth is bread in hand,
Ay, and swoet rrst.
Wilt thou learn what love is worth?
Ah I she sits above,
Sighing.. 'Weigh me not with earth
Love's worth Is love,' "
MY W I F E A N D I.
A sky of azure, a bit of heaven.
An hour of bliss to mortals given,
A church, a dainty dress by mv.side,
A solemn service, a kiss—a bride,- ,
Then thronging friends,
A last good good-bye;
And so we are married—
My wife and I.
Long hours of rapture, long days of joy,
Time passing unheeded—without alloy,
A tour, when everything looks its best,
A river in autumn glory dressed;
No thought of trouble,
Nor care, nor sigh,
For we are so happy—
My wife aud I.
A slow uwaking, as from a dream,
A drifting once more into life-work's stream,
A little respite from toll, and then
The world with its hopes and fears again;
But a home and a love
That shall last for aye,
For now we are settled— ,

I
One a money-changer selfish, with a head shaped Then—East.'. My wife and I.
like a pear; Watch still, 0 heavy eves, And as hours vanish In time's quick flight,
One a cross of fox and Jackal, sitting in a lion's lair. A little longer must y* vigil keep! And our life's fair morning grows tonight,
I have seen, while here In Paris, two great emperors And lo I year lid* shall cios* at morning'• riie As calking cares with our pleasures stay,
and their train la sleep. And our heads are streaked with the silvery gray
Rise and fall; two monarcha hunted, and another Yet shall love Increase
caged and slain: Throb yet, 0 aching heart, As the days go by ;
Two republics sink and perish, and a third in peril Still pal** the flagging currant without ceaaa j And we live for each other—
When you a few hour* more bene pl*y*d yourpart, My wife and I, \
thrown—
Comasp**c*l
War and revolution round me—I unchanged, unhurt
Bear up, than, waary soul I
_ar«u> **«•* **••• ** "
alone. *
Short I* the path remaining to hi trod—
Now to-day the foe surrounds us: bnsilv spin the I Lay down the fl*sby ehroad and touch the g o a l -
sisters three * Then—God 1
Atthegape^hear'the Prnaslan-whose to-morrowjj .-..'>'
 gryTAnni6'8 Dream.
IjjY CEMA TIIASTKR.
V l j H A ^ o h d e r yon, Kittery A n n i e ,
" m t l d l T y o u . i t in the s u n .
R o c U t f g t i i e chair before y o u ,
While your work lies all u n d o n e ?"
Little Annie turned to her mistress.
" I think of my dream," RIHJ said ;
" I t lies on my mind the l i v e l o n g day,
A weight as heavy as lead."
" W h a t dreamed you. K i t t e r y A n n i e ?
Come tell your dream to m e . "
" 0 , 1 thought I could not hear your voice,
For the thundering of tlio s e a .
" F r o m east and west and north and south
It gathered fierce and fa«t,
A n d ragged about the quiet h o u s e
A n d reached the door at last.
• I; sounded a solemn funeral knell
" A n d just ss if it raised n hand
And struck an angry b l o w ,
A great wave beat against the d o o r , —
Then silence seemed to g r o w . "
" D i d no one an«wer, A n n i e ,
That awful knock at the door ?"
" N o ; waves were still, and winds were still,
And I heard nothing m o r e . "
T h e mother thought of her b o n n y sons,
And there crept to her heart a chill,
A n d ever »he thought of the r a v e n i n g sea,
A n d the dream that boded ill.
" 0 . is it my bonny boys it s e e k s ,
Lashing the home around?
Or is it their comrade, tried and true,
Must in his prime be drowned ?"
W i t h his clear gray e y e s and g o l d e n beard,
Like a strong young king of the. sea,
. The younger came, and, " M o t h e r ! " he said,
" 0 mother! listen to me."
She answered him with a sudden c r y :
" Our friend is g o n e ! " h e s a i d ,
" 0 mother, our comrade, tried and true,
A t the foot of the rock lies d e a d .
" T h e breaker cuffed his s h i n i n g head
And struck him from the l i g h t ;
A n d with a hundred arms the w a v e s
Swift drew him out of sight.
" O, darkened are his kind b l u e e y e s ,
T h a t were so fair to s e e ,
And still and cold the ready h a n d s
T h a t worked s o faithfully."
Sore mourned the younger brother,
B u t the elder did not speak ;
H e bowed his head upon his breast,
W i t h the salt tears on his cheek.
A n d no vo'ce had the mother
' F o r her heart that beat s o w i l d ,
B u t wistfully ber eager e y e s
'"• Embraced each sorrowing c h i l d ;
it'.'J, 5*$"" •
, A n d as she saw from the w i n d o w s
t t s ^ T h ^ breakers flash and g l e a m ,
' Sbea.huddered afresh at the w a r n i n g
( j [ i S « r y , A n n i e ' s dream.
RIGHT.
FIRESIDE MUSINGS.
Low to myself I said the word;
BY HELIX A Y l n S PAQE. With deeper thrill through voice and will
It rang* as with a shoutl
The wind without blew loud and shrill, Much power was in it to be heard.
And whistled away with a heartr will; And from tbat hour my soul grew still,
. But the curtains were drawn on the stormy night, And put away its doubt.
And we sat by a fire that was burning bright.
The merry laugh and the jest went round," A battle-cry is in that word; .
i!
Cheered on and on by the welcome sound A force to wield on deadliest field.
Of the hammer, that, wleidec In mirthful haste, Which be who grasps shall feel
Told of the nuts that we soon should taste; As if his hand had drawn a sword, .
And as they fell in the waiting pan, And triumph were forestalled and sealed
My thoughts In a musing channel ran; W ith the first battle-peal 1
Tor I saw in the nuts a type of raan.
I'll telljyon ray thoughts as they came to me then: A royal word I a conquering Word I
Which none could speak with lips so weak
The first that I noticed was large and fair.
But straight tbey should grow"strong;
And the hammer tell with instinctive care,
As if, unknowing, they had heard
But the kernel within was worthless quite—
The mighty hosts of victors spesk,
The shell alone was a goodly sight.
And echoed the new song !
• Just such have I known in dally life,
A soul that seemed with goodness rife— The grand word I Ihe eternal word I
Who walked among his fellow men Given us whereby to glorify
As one whom naught could lead to sin; This dally work and oare.
Bat when temptation's hammer loll. Building our temples to the Lord —
After the heavenly house on high
Of human hope in that man's truth; Where tbe city lies four-square.
For it showed thot from his early youth,
Like the worthless nut, the shape alone And straight and perfect lives do grow—
Was there, but the goodly kernel gone. Whose imago is in form of His—
Another showed, in the fair outside, From heavenly bight to bight.
A tiny hole, that n pin might hide; So let the will be done below;
But we looked within in vain for good, O Duty, It needs only this,
f o r a worm had made the nut his food; And thou art named Delight.
So one whom a father's hand bad led,
iiVA l'ENSEUOSA.
And a mother prayed by his childhood's bed,
Had welcomed the secret tempter to sin, Sweet lips spart,
And the worm of destruction had entered in; Why poiif-ively wreathing?'
Cheeks with deep ruby
And the heart, that once was pure and fair, Bow sunset is bathing!
Was lost for aye in the fatal snare. Bmb'ti is thy bosom's glee,
Which heaveth Bleepily,
Another shell was so large and thick Murmuring, lite the sea,
That the hammer's blows fell strong and quick, With u low breathing.
But alas! for all the labor spent!
Eyes. Like the holy stars
The kernel was good as far as it went; I1 tii' heaven winking,
But so little room was left for the meat As their ailes of diamond
That it ©tiered a fast, instead of a treat. Are rising or siukiug—
How twites that silken trass
And who has not seen its human type, In tbe small hands' caress!
In the man with fortune's favors ripe; What dreamy anzels W' as
Whose gold, and land and worldly care, Thy spirit's thinking?
Have crowded out the gem more rare— Now bashful Echo,
With many-toned reed,
A generous heart and noble mind.
That greets with mercy all mankind? Is heard all abroad,
To eaoh voice ghing heed;
But all of our nuts were not of thi3 sort, Through the dusk coming night
Or else our pleasure had fallen short; Seem'at thou a thine of light,
Smiling upon the blight
For though these worthless ones I saw. Of Sorrow's seed.
They followed by no moans the common law;
There as thou leanest
For the pan was filled with a goodly charge
In latticed recess,
Of those whose kernels were rich and large; I cannot withhold me
Aud some of them, too, whose shells were thick, Thy beauty to bices.
And some lull thin, that yielded quick May thy love aye endure!
Be thou holy and pore,
The good that was bidden; nor could I tell, A? a fountain sealed sure'
(Though I had watched and notid well), V th' wilderness'. .
Or those that were left the false from the true.
And as I thought of the men I know, A CHINESE LOVE SONG.
I might not say of the hidden hearts
How many were those like the larger part BY R. B. STODDARD.
Of the nuts—a full and perfect whole—
A happy, sin-free and God-loving soul; Now tbe wind la softest,
But well did I know that the day would come Lighter now the shower,
When Jesns should call this earth to its doom, And in an hour the barren boughs
Andtbese shells of bodies should straightway fall Begin to bud and flower.
And tho hearts stand alone, of one and a l l -
Happy thoughts are brooding
Then shall the good from the bad be known,
On ihe song I slog.
And much that seemed wrong shall right be shown.
As to the arch of yonder bridge
The mists of morning cllag.
TO A C H I L D .
Pitiful the miser.
Who digs the earth for gold;
Mi fairest child, I have no song to give you For me, I'd sooner hoard the snow,
No Itrk could pipe to skies so doll abfLtray. So barren and so cold I
Vet ere we part, one lesson I can Iwte you
No, I love thee, sweetest,
» For every day.
And tbe wandering dove—
Be coed, sweet maid, snd let wbo will be clover; I send her with a sigh to thee,
Do noble things, nor dream tnem, all day long ; A little verse of love.
And so mak» life, death, and that vast forever, '
One grand, sweet song. " Oo count the silken tresses
That hang on yonder tree;
GHABLM KINUSLEI. So many are my loving thoughts,
And so they cling to thee I"
 MHHHMI

ft^r"*--' OTJT OP THE OLD HOUSE, MNOI •a H« tiro n&iRsu. ^SHPSKsL • '
Here . « » W

»T WILL M. CABLITOJt. And the old ihintwiU seem to be a mourning all the while.
F a r e y o u ^ W n o u s . ! your'e naught that *£<*%»»>
[tut the old house, Nancy—moved up Into the new: But youseevn like a human beuig-a dear Mfriend tome
^&il the hurry and worry are just u good at through! And we never wiU have a better home if my flj^*"*^,
Only a bbunden duty remains for you and I, Until-we commence .aieepiu'house in the house not maoe
~i»k wA..a. . - . - • ' -
withhauoA-" '.'..• _ . .. . __ - .
And that's to stand on the door step, here, and bid the old MY TBIUMPH,
J, house good-bye, :' p • ~;
H Y M N OF T H E R E P U B L I C . at jott.v 0. wHiTTisa.
What a shell we've lived In these nineteen or twenty years!
1 Wonder it hadn't smashed in and tumbled about our ears: Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the The autumn time has come; 1.
f Wonder it stuok together and answered till' to-day, Lord; On woods that dream of bloom,
Bat every individual log was put up here to stay. tie has trampled out the vintage where the grapes of And over purpling vines
wrath were stored : . . . . .
Things looked rather new, though, when this old house was He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible The astor-flower is falling,
qdick sword: The hazel's gold Is paling;
' built, Yet overhead mors near
And things that blossomed you, would've made some women His truth is inarching on. The eternal stars nppear 1
wilt; Cnonrs— Glory glory, hallelujah, 4c.
And every other day, then, as sure as day would break, I have seen him In the watch-fires of a thousand cir-
My neighbor Ager oome this way invitin' me to "shako." And present gratitude
cling camps; Insures the future's good,
| And you, for want of neighbors, was sometimes blue and sad, They have builued him an altar in the ovonlng dews And for the things I see,.
and damps; I truet the things to be;
• For wolves, and bears and wildcats, was the nearest ones you
I have read his righteoui sentence by the dim and Mar-
• But, lodkin' ahead to the clearin', we worked with all our might, in* lampa; That In tha paths tin trad,
And the long days of.Ood,
Until we was fairly out of the woods; and things was goin right. , 1IU day is marching on. My fast shall still be led,
I have read a fiery gospel writ In burnished rows of My heart be comforted.
• Look up there at our new house!—ain't it a thing to see 1 steel;
Tall and big and handsome, and new as new can be ; "As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace
shall deal; 0 living friends who love ma 1
All in .apple-pie order, especially the shelves, Let the hero, bom of woman, crush the serpent with 0 dear onus gone above met
I And hover a debt to say but what we own it all ourselves. his heal, Careless of other fame,
Since God Is marching on." j 1 leave to you my name.
• Look at our old log house—how Uttle it now appears!
'But It's never gone back on us, for nineteen or twenty years; He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call Hide It fiom Idle praises ;
• An,' I won't go baok on it now, or go to pokin' fun, retreat, Save It from evil pbrasaa ;
There's such a thing as praisin' a thing for the good that it He Is. sifting out the hearts of men before his Judgment Why, when dear lips that spake it
has done. seat; Are dumb, should strangers wake it *
Oh, be swirt, my soul to answer him! be jubilant, my
I Probably ^ou remember how rich we was that night, feet! Let the thick curtain fall;
When- *e was fairly settled, an' had things snug and tight: Our Qod Is marching on. I batter know them all
i We feels* proud as you please, Nancy, over our house that's In the beauty of the lilliet Christ was born across the How little I have gained,
How vast tha unattaioed,
! niw,: sea,
With a glory In his bosom that transfigures you and a
\ ' But w~e feel as proud under this old roof, and a good deal
m«; Not by the page word-painted
prouder too. Ashe died to make men holy, let us die to make rasn last life be banned or sainted :
free, Deeper than written scroll
. Never a handsomer house wo* seen beneath the sun, While God is marching on. Tbe colors of the souL ,.
Kitchen and parlocand bed-room—we had 'em all in one; Caoavs.
And the fat old wooden clock, that we bought when we come —Julia TTord How*. Sweeter than any sung
MIDSUMMER. My songs that foundnu taugue;
.1 -West, " . . * • .
Nobler than any act
Was tickiu' away in the corner, there, and doin' its level beet. BY J. T. tr.OWlUllDOI. My wish tuat failed of fact.
Trees was all around us, a whispe'rin' cheerin' words,
Loud was the squirrel's chatter, andsv.eet the song of birds; Around this lovely volley rise Others shall sing the song,
, And home grew sweeter and brighter—our hopes began to I The purple hills of Paradise. Others sball tight thewrons—
'• mount— t ". >• • yinieh what I begin,
A n l things looked hearty and happy, then, and work appeared 1 . O h , softly on yon banks of haze And all I fail of win.
to count. Her rosy lace the summer lays I
And here, one night, it happened, when things'woe goin' bad, What matter, I or thay *
. We fell in a deep old quarrei— the Cat wo ever had; Becalmed along the azure sky, Aline ur another's day,
The -argosies ol woodland lie, : So the right word be said
And when you give out aud cried, then I like a fool give in, —Whose shores with meny shining rift, Aud life thoswaeter made?
An' theuwe agreed to rub all out and start the thinij sg'in. Far on* their pearl-white peaks uplift.
LHereit wasyou remember, -vo sat when the day rat' c! mo, Through all the long midsummer day Hail to the coining singers!
The meadow sides are white with hay. Hail to the brave light bringer*'.
EAnd you was a n1.1V.i7.' DUCilng that uamt/or either one; . forward I reach and share
(And of iehv'n soft *Wd 0; love I was sort enough to say, I seek the coolest sheltered seat , All that they King and daro.
f i n d the wolves was howli:;' in the woods not twenty roil., away. •Tust where the field and forest m e e t -
Where grow the pine trees taU and bland,
The anoient oaks austere and grand, The airs of heaven blow o'er nte .*
; Theri'our flrst-boru baby—1 regular little joy— And frlnzy roots and pebbles fret A glory ahinea before me
Though I fretted a liule, because it wasn't a boy ; The ripples of the rivultt. Ofwhat mankind shall be—
Wa'n'tsho a Utile liirt, though, with ait her puut3 and smiles') Pure, gonerous, bmto and froe.
Why, settlers come to see that show a halt a dozcu miles. I watch the mowers as they go
Through the tall grass, a white sleeved row, A dream of man and woman
Yonder sits the enidle—a homely, home-made tiii.-.g ; With even stroke their scythes they swing. Divining but still human
And many a night 1 rocked it, providiu' you wouid siug; In tune their merry whetstones ring; Solving the riddle old,
And many a little squatter brought up with us to stay, Behind the nimble youngsters rnn, Shaping the Age of Gold.
1
And so that, cradle, tor many a day, was uever put away. And toss the green swaths in the sun;
The cattle graze; while, warm and still, Tha love of God and neighbor
v 'How they kept a comin', so cunnin' and fat and small! Slopes the broad pasture, bnska the lull. An ec-ual-hauded labor;
And bright, when summer breezes break, The richer life, whore beamy
How they growed! 'twas a wouder how we found room or The green wheat crinkles like a lake.
'em all; Walks hand iu band with duty.
• But though the house was cro,vucd,U empty seemed that day. The butterfly snd the bumble bee
When Jennie lay by the utvpuee), there, aud breathed hlr Come to the pleasant woods'with me; King, bells in unreared steeple*,
life away. Quickly before me runs the quail. Tha joy of unborn peoples.
The chickens skulk behind the rail. Bound, trumpets far off blown,
And right in there, the preacher, with Bible and hymn-book BIgh up the lone wood pigeon sits, Your triumph is my own!
And the woodpecker pecks and flits.
\ stood. Sweet woodland music sinks and swells, Parcel and part of all,
I " 'Twixt the dead and the living;" and "hoped 'twould do us The brooklet rings Us tinkling bells, I keep the festival,
good," The swarming insects drone and hum, Yore-reach the good to be,
: And the little whitewood coffin on the table there was set, The partridge beats his throbbing drum, And share tho victory.
; And now, as I rub my eyes, it seems as if I could see it yet. The squirrel leaps among the boughs,
And chatters in his leafy house.
1 Then, that fit of sickness it brought on you, you know; The oriole flashes by; and, lookl Ifeel tho earth move sunward,
Into the mirror of the brook, 1 join the great march onward,
Just by a thread you hung, and you e'en a'inost let go ; And take, by faith, while living,
'• And here's the spot I tumbled, an' give the Lord his due, Where the vain bluebird trims his coat,
Two tiny feathers fall and float. My forehold of thanksgiving.
: When the doctor said the fevor'd turaed, an' he could fetch if.'''- w It,.. . _
' you through. As silently, as tenderly. DOMESTIC BLISS.
The down of peace descends on me,
Yes. a deal has happened to make this old house dear; Oh, this Is peace! I have no need Domestic happinesa, thou only bliss
Christenin's, funerals, weddiu'zi—what haven't we had herel Of friend to talk, of book to read; Of paradise that has survived the fall I
Not a log in this buildin' but its memories has got, A dear companion here abides; Thou art tho nurse of virtue. In thine anus
And not a nail in this old Uoor but touches a tender spot. Close to my thrillinz heart He hides; She smiles, appearing, as In truth aha is,
The holy silence is His voice; Heav'n-born, and doetined to the skies again.
Out of the old house, No .lo'y,—moved up into the new; 1 lie ana listen, and rejoice. -Oowp<r.
All the hurry and worry is just as good as through ;
But I tell you a thing right here, that I ain't ashamed to say;
I There's precious things iu this old house, we never oan take

AT THE CBOSSDIG....
By o. H. BABMM.
T i a w i t i d la blowing cold and keen, -•
A n d ^ v e l e r s . hurrying homeward fast,.
Fold close their furry robes to screen
Their bosoms from the piercing blast
God pity them w h o feel the breeae
Through Uttered garments pinch the form,
UutU;th«.Ufe-bloOd. seems to freeze.
• O f such, • chilled by the wintry storm,
i". ! V Is Annie at the crossing;
Her dress Is old and thin and torn,
Her head unoovered to the sleet,
Her shoes are poor and badly worn,
, And stocklngleas her purple feet 1
Wet tear-stalns on her pallid cheek,
Deep sorrow In her saddened e y e -
How pleadingly these all bespeak •
Sweet pity of each passer-by
For Annie at the crossing. .
.There.all day long she shivering stands
To take the pence which now and then.
Drop scantily from jeweled hands . K ,
Of heedless maids and hurrying m e n ;
While " Give t o m e a penny, please,
^Kind-hearted sirs and ladles fair,'
This dreadful hunger-pain to ease,"
Is e'er the morn and evening prayer
Of Annie at the crossing.
But O, how few there are that heed
• The homeless beggar's hungry plea,
And give—to cheer and clothe and feed—
• Their gold and generous sympathy 1
Ah m e 1 Is Pity's ear so deaf f
The hand of Charity so cold,
So'slow t o offer kind relief
When Poverty's tearful tale Is told
By Annie at the croaslng ?
" Her voice has such a timid sound.
From lips so hunger-pinched and chilled,
' Perhaps 'tis In the north wind drowned
" Before Its tones the heart have thrilled.
' We will not think the rich and fair,
' W h o throng the street from morn to night,
Refuse to hear the poor child's prayer,
Ami purposely withhold their mite
From Annie at the croaslng; .
Christ heard the cry of sorrow when
: H e dwelt on earth in human guisej
And, in compassion, gave t o men .'
His bounty and his" sympathies.: '.
And h e would have his followers now
. The piteous call of suffering mind,
And of their plenty oft bestow
T o bless the poorest of their kind—
O Like Annie at the croaslng.
0 , ye who're blest with happy homes,
Where love-light beams so bright and
, \ warm,
Where gnawing hunger never comes,
. ' N o r cruel cold nor sleety storm—
Remember, when you throng the street,
; - Toward your firesides hastening on,
The thin-clad form, the purple feet,
•j The tearful eye and visage wan
_.,;. Of Annie at the crossing.
FIB8T AND LAST.
Just come from heaven, how bright and Mr,
The soft locks of tb« baby's hiirT
iTneshuilnj haloroundMs-head. -
:
f t l ? *?wUr,?f h , " « » what MO red mows
Jor there the op ulujt „ate» h»T- thrown
- H J £ J , 0 I 3 , r o » t h « K « t whl.. throne.
$&*mi..%'* .-rmzu*
frllE' • R A T E R - OF^TIDJ
TilOTEED'i
Fatfior, I conic before T h y t h r b n e ,
W i t h l o w and bended k n e e ,
T o thank T h e e w i t h e, grateful t o n e , ,
F o r utl T l i y l o v e t o me".
Forgive. 1MB if m y heart t h i s h o u r
1 jrlve n o t ssll t o T l l o o . • .
F o r d e e p affection's m i g h t y p o w e r
Divide It n o w w i t h T h e e .
T h o n knbwest. Father, every thought
That wakes within m y breast,
A n d h o w the h e a r t j i a s v a i n l y , s o u g h t
T o k e e p its love, s u p p r e s s e d .
Y e t when,the idol,.worshipped onq,
ISit.s fondly by tn'y s i d e ,
A n d breathes , t t y - v o w s I c a n n o t dhun,
T o luU, his destined b r i d e .
F o r g i v e r.je if t h e l o v i n g W s s * * ' Ran up and waihed it while they fed :
l i e Veuves u p o n m y b r o w .
Is t h o u g h t o f l b an h o u r like t h i s ,
A n d thrills m e e v e n n o w .
H e ' s c h o s e n m e t o be his l o v e
A n d comforter t h r o u g h life,
Knntrto m e . O G o d . t o p r o v e j
A l o v i n g , faithful w i f e .
l i e k n o w s n o t . F a t h e r , all the d e e p
Affections I c o n t r o l —
T h e thoiisan'tl l o v i n g t h o u g l t i s t h a t s w e e p
lic.sislle.ss o ' e r m y s o u l .
He. k n o w s n o t each dee)) f o u n t of l o v e
T h a t g u s h e s w a r m si::d free;
N o r c n u h e ever fully prove
My w a r m i d o l a t r y .
Then^ruard h i m F a t h e r — ' r o u n d h i s w a y
T h y cnoicest b l e s s i n g s c a s t ; .
A n d r e n d e r each successive d a y
Still h a p p i e r t h a n t h e l a s t .
A u d , F a t h e r , grant us s o t o l i v e ,
T h a t , w h e n this lire is o ' e r ,
W l t l l l u t h e h a p p y home. T h o u ' l t g i v e , .';~
W e ' l l m e e t t o part n o m o r e .
APItilL
April has searched the winter land,
And found her petted flowers again ;
She kissed them to unfold their lewes,
She coaxed them with her sen and rain.
And filled the grass with green content,
And made the weeds and clever vain.
Her fairies climb the naked trees.
And Bet green caps on every stalk;
Iler primroses peep bashfully . •
From borders of the garden walk;
And In the reddened maple topi
Her blackbird gossips sit and talk.
She greets the patient evergreens;:-'.'i - ' :
She gets a store of ancient gold,- . . >v. ...
Gives tasselled presents to the.breeze,.. . _
And teaches rivers songs of old— - *
And shake the trees with stolen March winds,
And laugh? to hear the cuckoo scold.-
Sometimes, to fret the sober suit,
She pulls the clouds across his lace; ' "
. But finds a snow-drift in the woods,
Grows meek again; and prays his grace;
Waits till the last white wreath is gone,
And drops arbutus in the place. '
Her crocuses and violets '
Give all the world a'gay " Goodyear I"
Tail Irises grow'tired of ^reen, '"'"
And get themselves a purple gear j
r Aud tiny bods, that lie asleep "
• On hill and field, her summons hear. .
1 Ami rliu Him eia icj^L.up Ui 1l1n.11 eje) K- i,i,; , , J
She rocks the saucy meadow cups.;
The sunset's heart anew she dies; '
,- She fille the dusk.of. deepest woods .
With vague, sweet sunshine and surprise,
V. And wakes the periwinkles up-. • . :> .
,16, watch her with their wide, blue eyes. .
, "ATrasUhqdesmsJier.work Is doner-.
And finds a willow racking chair, ','... .
Dons spectacles bfapple-Duds,-, ' " ' , '
• Kerchief and cap' of almonds Tare,"'.:' ' i ICiiw t u n JUiveT'e'.pteti'e'draws.iieiir;''^'"-'' " •' '"
1 And sits, a very grandmpther, •?* ; -
- Shiltlng'her snnshtner needles, there,
•
Utf>*|»jt j * . A » 5 > o . * - i ^ > ^ * '
k ;». And when she ssestnh deiaer suhs V* '
• t. ThaLuaherlnthbhappyiMajvi. - i . . 1 - A
W SheiSlgha tolhink her time la past, • *•••'
r*-.i And weeps tSecauM shetaiustl atsy.i
lit.Aad loaves her tears upon the areas, . - ,
Vnd turns her face, and glides, away. »/~
' T H E VOICES OF T H E S E A - B I R D S .
BT JK1H IKO»LOW.
I walked beside a darkgray sea.
And said, " 0 world, how cold thou artl
Thou poor, white world I pity thee.
For Joy and warmth from thee depart.
Ton wave-like rising of the snow:
Winds on the era* each other ohaae—
In little powdery whirls they blow
The misty fragments down its face. . |
The sea is oold, and dark its rim:
Winter sits cowering on the wold;
And I . beside this watery brim.
Am also lonely, also cold.'
I spoke, and drew toward a rook.
Where mewl were twittering sweet i
Tbeir wings upreared, the clustering nock
Did pat the sea-gran with their feet.
A rock but half submerged, the sea
Their fond and foolish eoatacy
• . A wandering in my fancy bred.
Joy oompanied with every ory,
Joy in their food, in that keen wind.
That heaving sea. that shaded iky.
And in themselves and in their kind.
The phantoms of the deep at play 1
What idleis graced the twittering things;
Luxurious paddling! in the spray.
And 'delicate lifting up of wings.
Then all at onoe a flight, and fast
The lovely crowd dew out to sea;
If mine own life had been reeast.
Earth had not looked more changed to me.
Where is the ooldT Ton clouded ikiei
Ilave only dropped their curtains low
To shade the old mother where she lies.
Sleeping a little 'Death the snow. ,
The oold is not in crag, nor scar,
N or in the snows that lap the lea,
j Kor In yon wings that beat afar,
Delighting on the ores ted sea;
Kb, nor in yon exultant wind
That shakes the oak and bends the pine.
> Look near, look in, and thou sbalt find
No sense of cold, fond fool, but thine 1
With that I felt the gloom depart.
And thoughts within me did unfold.
Whose sunshine warmed me to the heart,
I walked in joy and was not cold.
And, attains ms' vxipiUtit'e''rapture "WetTde4^witB
laik
trk h r«ln.diugs in the so^ecihng^luipaj, , K j C T
, . Ihavesct myhoiiae i'lOiacr , , w « . JgK
F01 e stately step to grace; ' " .f?Z^?«"-
I lure biiitun the mniiita keep record71: f.tnlNiSft
. 01 anevci-f •rgutteasfuoof. , v.-„'a»VieJ».«B'
1 rutvebrtjii.i«i:e'&williihi'lftv oaanlif.v, ." ,
T t * walla ut nft's/lvari boiur: " J ""t * r j J A - x
'. TlioyurB bcnuiiful "in the almduw , '.' > \tt,.i>^t)
\ ,0f liiin «b;p wcuhGjftato (.•«ine....> a ,J, p. «iv 5 l
R.'.'l I.UTB a.wcpt theJieviM from the(rreensward, i ^ j f l
- v Anil the giay stSHi<M iv.laiile mid shiaej.,,„••; • j ;
I'. 1 h«vn lnof^^un i-;n-li fj-^^tl'nl *" 7^
1
' Otthi!ttiriairnT<rdCr anil viui-r " !•"') 1~-^'^.i
1' iX nareeidpnil ttn> walrra wastn not .;,-., .^ u •>.'
Tirctf i'l'.trti.-s itpi'T c.liV eve, ' •-'"•* y •( " ' "
Dm in watt, lice « Le n , for thy footsteps,
And.gi.Buisbeu tljuu uruweat iiigb., • ,j-r„<.-, t
llysclf I wnulddreBa-fortbTipresehcoi fCu:!. i r ,'i)
1. DM,there I uiust ei itiii aiul-ncen, •, !,•,..< ,y .'^^i
veitra tl*V il .iili Luve's vaJae ',' »' * r . . - J
Sli ci' t:'i' Jf
•Mfc-f£vf
Inir treasure avepp,
liit V.iiiKljh
llul y. iiroa tliMt Rie t.\r lis.of uiagtOfi. tjft e
|. j.Aiiil merciful louts a:n(»L'j.,•., ••. ;:j f l f,
a -Bbull-briitliteii the I'IKI'MIfixtures "
l l h a t laded when Jibncdid-praue; 1V"'*^!'*J-r '•
._,, • 1 •! v.'j „1* ii\ r V" >< lie.fcuiiJ L . .'1
lliiiirprnciiinaanmDrcJ'r cn>»ture, . • 1 „
T)n tin' iri'ef, wbi-ii tlma pan'-st hr. ' ' *•« jM>«-;»
Let di.wii their dm in 1113 u> eulaue tbe«,i b^ttirai
Do thi-T wait, nil uth'i111. wlien thou passest, '.'
1'or » ioiHih' AfrrVj-nfe TliVib" l' , • * W n **>
Dothey fotii,fli"irinitek hands «hcti thounoetest,-
Aud dieior a bro)iihjof ta'.nol . .. ..,.-( U l J t ., j
*MJ> heart baa lewpffurtji to embrace theat-i. <•' • ' -
It cllnm. like a b.ibo.m to.v brecati ,•;.-,•, a.- -:\ ><,
Aiid nij bliKiiila asroMiMiurvitoceaB.""*-"-
Tluit wairs t»r thrrwordiif rest" •'•'Sa !A — .•-••:M'A
Time k>8>.» hl« imltrj- jnensuro •, ^, . ", ,'2L_
And,tii« linivcnnj!
> i u e r t M *«•#•* •tuoinents
* f ' * " V " * ^ tlat'pert us-^'^iu>.'i.^-jii'
I
,
- **- rf-m mt+aj^w aH»*B»y S/a*
v' Ar6(.cnd;oai.ii) hupa^mij (oar.a \ , 1 il».atij:,^'iii
b^OW.'wiatittbJybn'd^lhaJiuniMne;,
sb'oeluMu nod t
f.r: !*ye$eiH"'l)eTl!>K/r!J
';.'• ^wjo,Kaiberiiiir«uiHB,alioalu.iiiiK)i]
• • J - • TtiJ-rapture,,'
' Set Alonn %-lth Cf " MgKWSSwSf
,.'.,i.'i lie heau'tAinxbawtDie] «r]^i"J-o.ftf;
'i *l|a»i»j»it»<j 4iiBljg5lWa J
rx'VJs'aaii

Howard at Atlanta.
By J. Q. WHITTIEB.
RIGHT in tho track where Sherman
Ploughed his red furrow,
Out of the narrow cabin,
Up from the cellar's b j \ Jw,
Gathered the little black people,
With freedom newly dowered,
Where, beside their Northern teacher,
Stood the soldier, Howard.
He listened and beard the children
Of the poor and long-enslaved
Beading the words of Jesus,
Singing the songs of David.
Behold!—the dumb lips speaking,
The blind eyes seeing! —
Bones of the Prophet's vision
Warmed into being!
Transformed he saw them* passing
Their new life's portal j
Almost it seemed the mortal
Put on the immortal.
No more with the beasts of burden,
No more with stone and clod,
But crowned with glory and honor
In the image of God 1
There was the human chattel
Its manhood taking;
I There, in each dark, bronze statue,
i -Grralil Mtucy'i "SitHatt of Babt Chrittabtl.
A soul was waking!
The man of many battles,
f
With tears his eyelids pressing,
\ Stretched over those dusky foreheads
i
His one-armed blessing.
i Yet sweet as the sweet dew-fall
/ And he said: " Who hears can never
Fear for or doubt you :
What shall I tell the children
Up North about you ? "
Then ran round a whisper, a murmur,
Some answer devising;
• i And a little boy stood up: " Massa,
Tell 'em we're rising.' "
O black boy of Atlanta!
But half was spoken :
The slave's chain and the master's
Alike are broken.
The one curse of the races
Held both in tether:
They are rising, — all are rising.
The black and white together!
0 brave men and fair women!
Ill comes of hate and scorning:
Shall the dark faces only
Be turned to-morning?
Make Time your sole avenger,
All-healing, all-redressing;
Meet Fate balf-way, and make it
A joy and blessing !
— ATLANTIC MONTHLY for March, Since the rosy lights began to flow
i n it a s .
Birds are singing round my window,
Tunes the sweetest e'vor heard ;
And I h a n g m y c a g e (here dally,
But I never catch a bird.
So with thoughts my brain Is peopled,
-•: And they sing there all d a y l o n g : . • •'•* •*'<•* •'"' »™,
But they will not fold their pinions,
>v In. the I. tue cage «f song I
.' — -—.•«». i : _ i i " W . i \ M > ( •'• TSrf
SFHING.
.Then Dame Earth bares all her charms, * N Lift her. with lasting and mirth, , ,,'i
And gives the god her perfect flower.
Who, in the sunshine's golusn shower,
. > a p s warm into her amorous arms!
When buds are bursting on the brier.
And ell the kindled greenery glows,
And lue u&lu r.cuest overflows,
Ami morujng deids are fringed with fire;
When young maids feel love stln'i' the blood,
And Wuuton with the kissing leaves
Aud branched, and the quick *ap heaves
And daucui to a rjpeu'd flood;
Till, blown to its hidden heart with sighs,
Love s red rose uurns r the cheek so dear,
And, as sea-jewels upward peer,
Love thoughts melt through tneir swimming eyes;
When Ueauty walks in bravest drone,
Aud, leu with April's mellow showers.
The earth laugh- out with sweat May dowers,
That Uu.u for Tory happiness;
Aud Spider-Pock such wonder weaves
o' nights, aud nooks o' greening gloom
Are rich with violots that bloom
I n the cool dark of dewy leaves ;
When rose-buds drink the a e r y wins
Of dawn with crimson»stains I1 the mouth,
All ihirstlh as yearning youth
From Love's hand drinks 'me draught divine;
Aud houey',1 plots arc drowned with bees-
And larks rain music by tho shower,
While singing, singing by the hour,
Song like a spirit sits i' the trees!
When fainting hearts forget their fears,
And in the poorest life's salt cup
Some raru wine ruus, and Hope builds up
ller rainbow, over Memory's tears I
It fell upon a merry May morn,
V the perfect prime of that sweet time
When iftt ides whiten, woodbines climb—
The dear uur-u Clirisrabel was born.
TBE F1BE BY THE SEA.
lUT ALICS CART.
TIIKKE were seven fishers, with nets in their hands,
And titer Walked and talked by the sea-side sands;
The words they spake, though rhey spake so low.
Across the long, dim centuries flow,
And we know tlrem, one and all—
Aye! know thtm aud love them all.
Seven sad men In the days of old.
And one was gentle, and one w»* reold,
And they walked with downward eyea;
The bold was Peter, the gentle was John,
And they all were sad, for the Lord was gone,
Aud they knew not it he.would rise-
Knew nut if the dead would rise.
Tho live-long night, 'till the moon went ont
In the drowning waters, they beat about;
Beat slow through the fog their way;
And the sails drooped down with wringing wet,
And no man drew but an empty net,
And now 'twas tho break of the day—
The great, glad break of the day.
" Cost In your nets on the other side"—
(Twas Jesus speaking across, tho tide)—
And they oast, and were dragging hard ;
But that disciple whom Jesus loved
Cried straightway out, for bjs heart was moved:
•' It Is our risen Lord—
Our Master, and our Lord 1"
Then Simon, girding bis Usher's coat,
Went over the nets and out of the boat-
Aye ! first of them all was ho;
Repenting sore the denial past, ' .
He feared no longer his heart to east
Like an anchor into the sen— .
Sown deep In the hungry sea.
And the others, through the mists so dim.
In a little snip came after him.
Dragging their net through the tide;
And when they had gotten elose to the land
They saw a Are of coals la the sand,
And, with arms of love so wide,
Jesus, the. ojuclfled 1
Tts long, and long, and long ago
O'er the hUlsof.QaUlee; ;
" " """'I*.*' And with eager eyes and lifted hands
,.... .Voir The seven Ushers saw-on the sands" -
r < -.; , •.«••,: The Are of coals-bv the sea—
i .-j v , V On the wet, wild sands by the aea v '
^ •. ,;,-•[ » lth
iI&£2S§19*i
a k m U a d J u 8 t y«' '* m our souls
iT n a °y tna' A" of ooala st
i »tieamedo'er the mists of t h e j e a ;
--dw -i>t •* I ^ L T ^ 8 . , ' * l r d m 6 ui » Cher's "ont.
isliqt *•' .Went over tbe nets*nd out of tho boat,
x nawer
'' "'Lov'at thou me 1"
mymfe't^pi*m* 3T
' %s •^v«*'^fcXp? *"*•--•'
Fold the cold abrend on her bosom,.... i
Take the worn ringfromherfinger—; ' ,
iLHtlethebanbleJs.'iorth. " „ • -....."
Tangled her ourla—but no matter, .,..";."
r Puab them ail-roughly away, ''/' •
.Book from heT passionless forehead, '.,...
'li'TlBbutamagdale.n's clay. *.,._ J'-,'
' W j T . A - ' V * " ; ; y * { j Q " - 4 1 * t A J t . > « - . ? : • ; • : - . ; * •
Who will come forth to behold her i1.» >
' No one—so on With the dead ; .
, Press the face downward and firmer—
'" It looks as her poor mother's did; : •
just such faint-lines on the temples, -
. . Just soj deep sunken the eyes; •
Rot their remembrance forever,
; .Living by craft and by lies.
.-• <-, i ;.*o»>. ii/wLH ••i. J;.'-:-' '•
Lay her awayfr'oni the sunlight-
Why should.It rest on her face ?
Put her pine box In the shadow, -
Burdened with sin and disgrace.
Nameless her coffin—no matter;
Sleepeth her well enough so— -
Dig her a hole to the corner,
Where the rank thistle-weeds grow.
Stop I I bethink me a moment-
Pshaw! these are womanish tears;.
1 have a fair little daughter—. '
Lily, of tenderest years;
' What If—oh I horror to think It—
(iently, men gently, behold,
Ont on the rough side left hanging
One shining ringlet of gold.
Hush, men, this mirth is untimely,
Carefully bear her and slow-
Though a poor victim of sorrow,
She was a woman you know; •»
Bush men, this mirth is untimely;
Cease your rude laughter and din;
Though, full <>f frailty, remember,
Man is to blame for her sin.
L»r in her silence to slumber,
Kvenly cover her bed; - •
For the sake of my one little daughter,
I will be kind to the dead. j
DREAiHLA.VD.
' Prom tho St. James' .Magazine.
Ont »( the sweet old Icgeuds,
Beckous a fair whfto hand,
And silvery, bell-like voices
Tell of an unknown land.
Where tna^tc roses bju*tf"Mi
In [he evening's guld-u l'*iit,
And the air is iadea with ira^rsnee
f rmn the lilies' sUver while..
Tim iFen with their waving brutiches,
Murmur a Niry song,
Ami tUe bruoklet merrily d^U'-es
As it ripples and dances along.
A nl louder, enchanting lovo songs
Float - n the balmy breeze,
And tbe heart's unspeakablo longing
By their music is set at ease.
Would that my sl'-ps could teach
That happy fiowery stand ;
For all ray earthly afllictiuns
Would cease in that fairy land.
Oft in my dreams 1 ta* it,
In its glamour bright aod fair,
But with daylight's ear iest glimmer
It vanishes into air.
A P R E S E N T SAVIOR.
BY Jor/N o. Wurman.
We miy not clime the heavenly stoops
To bring the Lord Christ down; •
In vain we jearch tbe lowest deeps,
For him no depths can drown.
Cut warm, sweet, tender, cvon yet
A present help is he,
And -faith has still its Olivet, '•.:'•;
And love its ftatilee. ' '•' ' •
The healing of the seamless dress • •.
Is by our beds of pain; ••'..•
.1
We touch him in Life's throng- aud piess. -
Atitl wo are wholo again. . , .>,:. i
Through him the first fond prayers ore said
Our lips of childhood frame; .!
The last low whispers of our dead
Aro burdened with bis natno.
0 Lord and Master of us all! I
What'ar our namo or .•i™
 T H E WALL,
1
1-Jitatelr<''«H nK •«,
' y ^ e h u i g doora ;
HagW the celling high,
. '.,Aiic|ia»d e * t j / bolldlng.
"•T^riioSeleMservants wait.
\7Nosa«eDttr'buttI>e P***' "•
But a hapSer ho»e is near It, a bumble cottage small,
And I envy Its sweet mlrtreif , h « I * * * * o n " " »«"•
Vrpletqr*s'are, the pride or Art,
Aid drawn bj canning hands,
But the painted figures never move,
" i Nor change, the painted lands;
.Before'thc poorest window
•'"" More'gorgeous pageants glide,
•: -Vlthln the lowliest household,
- .More lifelike; groups abide :
And I tarn from soulless symbols, that crowd my
gloomy hall,
To watch the .shifting shadows upon the cottage wall.
. My stately husband never bends,
'To kiss me on the lips;
: Bis heart is in his Iron safe,
His thoughts are with his ships;
But when the twilight gathers
Adown the dusky street,
' The little housewife listens
For sounds of coming feet;
And by the gleaming firelight I see a figure tall
Bend down .to kiss a shadow, a shadow on the wall:
My garden failings, broad and high
Shut In its costly spoils,
And thrfugh the ordered paths all day
The • llent gardener toils;
My neighbor's is a grass.plat,
With a hardy buttercup.
Where the children's dimpled fingers
' Pull dandelions up,
Where on a baby's silken head, all day the sunbeams
ami
Till evening throws Its shadows upon the cottage trail..
My petted lipdog, warm and soft,
Nestles upon my knee;
My birds hav« shut their diamond eyes
That love to look for me:
Lonely, I watch my neighbor,
And watching can but weep,
To see her rock her darlings
Upon her breast asleep,
Alas ! my doves are gentle, my dog comes at my
call.
Out there Is no childish shadow upen ray chamber
wall.
My beauty is the talk of fools.
And by the gaslight's glare.
In glittering dress and gleaming gems,
1 know that 1 am fair ;
But there is something fairer,
Whose charm in loving lies,
And there is something dearer,
The light of na^py eyes.
So 1 return trlumphaut, queen of the brilliant ball,
To envy the sweet shadow ol the housewife on the
wall.
My earthly lot is rich aud high,
And hers Is poor and low ;
Yet 1 would glv«rayheritage
Her deeper joys to know;
For huabauds that are lovers
Are ra e In all the lands,
And hearts grow fit for heaven,
Moulded by childish hands;
And while I go up lunely, nefore the Judge of all,
A cherub troop -Till usher the shadow on the wall,
WHAT?
BY SUSAN COOMDOB.
OSLT a jear ago,
tad the world was BO poor, so dull I
sheie were the roses, aud there the snow;
Bat the snow was chill and the roses pale,
And Use bird's song had a note of wail—
Nothiiii: was beautiful.
Only a wear ago I
And to-day all earth seems fnll;
The rosea bloom with their ancient slow,
And the snow beams lambent tu the moon,
And birds with melody thrill the room,
And all is beautiful.
OT.IT a year ago !
Can the old pain be so clean forgot ?
Hfeart of mine, what baa changed thee so ?
Making thy days a dream divine,
Tny weary prose a fairy rhyme ?
Answer—bat breathe It not.
BALDER'3 WIFE.
BT ALICE CABT.
Hcrt ensoment like a watchful eye
From tlio face of the wall looks down,
Lashed round with ivy vines so dry.
And with ivy leaves so brown.
Her golden head in her lily hand
Like a star in the spray o' th' sea,
And wearily rocking to and fro,
She sings so sweet and she sines so low
To the little babe on her knee.
But let her sing what tune she may.
Never so light and never so gay,
It slips and slides and dies away
To the moan of the willow water.
Like some bright honey-hearted rose
That the wild wind rudely mocks.
She bloonis from the dawn to the day's sweet
close
Hemmed in with a world of rooks.
The livelong night she doth not stir.
But keeps tit her casement lorn,
And the skirts of the darkness shine with her
And they suiue with the light o' the morn.
And all who pass may hear her lay.
But lot it be what tune it may,
It slips and slides and dies away
To the moan of the willow water.
And there within that one-eyed tower,
Lashed round with the ivy brown,
She droop? like some unpiticd (lower
That the rain-fall washes down:
The damn o' th' dew in her golden hair.
Her check like the spray o' th.' sea.
And wearily rocking to and.fro
She sings so sweet and she sings so low
To tho little ha be on her knee.
But let her sing what tuuesho may.
Never so glad and uover so gay,
It slips aud slides and dies away
To the nionn of the willow water.
The following beautiful luies from Mrs.
Sigoumey, give a lively and truthful picture
of life upon a farm:—
Saw ye the farmer at hie plow.
As j e ware riding by I
Or wearied 'neath the noon-day toll.
When the summer anna were high f
And thought you that his lot was hard.
And did you thank yonr God
That you and yours were not condemned
Thus like a slave to plod ?
Gome, see him at bis harvest home,
When garden, field, and tree,
Conspire with flowing store to fill
- Ilia barn and granary.
Bla healthful children gaily sport
4 Amid the now mown hay,
Or proudly aid with vigorous arm
His tasks as best they may.
The' Harvest diver Is his friend,. .
The Maker of the soil,
And earth, the mother, gives them bread,
Aad cheers their patient toll:
Come Join them round their wintry hearth,
The heartfelt pleasuro see;
And yon can better jndge how bleat
The farmer's lifo may be.
i POEMS IWATRITTEX.
MY SIRS. MART BOOTH. -'
I The following poem, one of the sweetest llttlo
| gems in the English language. is going the rounds
j of the press, credited to Alfred Tennyson. It was
written by Mrs. Mary Booth, wife of the editor of
I the Milwaukee Daily Life :
There are poems unwritten and songs unsung,
Sweeter thai, any that ever were heard—
Poem:) that watt for an angel tongue,
Songs that but long for a paradise bird.
Poem* that ripple through lowliest lives—
Poems unnoted and hludu~ away
Down in the souls where the beautiful thrives,
Sweutly as flowers in the airs o( May.
Poems that only the angels above us.
Looking down. deej> luto our hearts may behold,
Fulr, though unseen, by the bciuga who love us,
Written on Uvea in letters of gold.!)
Sing to my soul the sweet song that thou 11 vest!
Keml me the poem that never was penned—
Tho wonderful idyl of life that thouglvest
Fiesb from thy spirit, oh, beautiful friend.
•T LL'Or URCOV.
"Home la home, DO matter whtrsP
Sang a happy, youthful pair,
I
Journeying westward,'yean ego,
Ai they left too April mow
White ou Massachusetts shore:
Left tbe sea's incessant roar; *
Left the Adirondack*, piled " . v
Like the playthirigioi a child. ; J
• OD the horizon's eastern bound; * J
And, the unbroken forest a found,
Heard Niagara's sullen call,
Hurrying to hie headlong fall,
Like a Titan in distress.
Tearing through the wilderness,
Rending earth apart, In bate,
Of tbe unpitying bounds of fate. ^
Over Erie's green expanse
Inland wild-fowl weave their dance;
Lakeson lake*., a chrystal chain,
Give the clear heaven back again ;
Wampum strung by Man HOB,
Ugbtly as the beaded dew. j -
Is it wave or is it shore,
Greener gleams the prairie-floor,
Wait and south, one emerald ;
Earth untenanted, unwalJed;
There, a thread of silent joy,
Winds tbe gross-hid Illinois.
Bringing comfort unawares,
Out of little daily cares,
Uere has JElsie lived a year,
Learning well that homo is dear,
By the green breadth measureless
Of the outside wilderness,
So unshadowed, so immense ! ,
Gardened without path or fence,
Rolling up its billowy bloom
To her low, one-windowed room,
Breath of prairieflowersis sweet;
But the baby at her feet
Is the sweetest bud to her,
Keeping such a pleasant stir,
On the cabin hearth at play,
While his father turns tbe bay,
Loads tbe grain or binds the stacks,
Until sunset brings him back.
Klsie's thoughts awake must keep
While the baby lies asleep.
Far Niagara haunts her ears;
Mississippi's rush she bears;
Ancient nurses twain that crooo
- For her babe their mighty tune,
Lapped upon the prairies wild :
Ifo will be a wbudroua cbild 1
Aht but Elsie's thoughts will stny
Where, a child, she used to play
In the shadow of the pines;
Moss and scarlet-berried vinos
Carpeted the granite ledge,
Sloping to the brooklet's edge,
Sweet with the violets, blue and while ;
While tbe dandelions, bright
As if Night had spilt herstars,
Shone beneath the meadow-bars.
Could she hold her babe to look
In that merry babbling brook-
See it picturing his eye
As tbe violet's, blue and s h y -
See his dimpled fingers creep
Where tbe sweet-breathed May-flowers peep
i With pale pink anemones,
Out ajneng the budding; trees !
On his soft cheek falls a tear
For the hillside home so dear.
At her household work she droanis;
And the endless pr.iirie seems
Like a broad, unmeaning face
Head through in a moment's space,
Wkere tho smile so fixed is grown,
Better you would like a frown-
Elsie sighs, "We loam too late.
Little things are more than great,
Hearts like ours must daily bo
Fed witli some kind mystery.
Hidden in a rocky uook,
Whispered from a wayside brook,
Flashed on unexpected eyes,
In a winged, swift surprise;
Small the pleasure is to trace
Boundlessness of commonplace."
But the south wind, stealing in,
Her to happier moods will win,
In and ont the little gate
Creep wild roses delicate;
Fragrant grasses bint a talo
Of tbe blossomed intervale
Left behind, among tbe bills,
Kvery flower-cup mystery fills :
Every idle breeze goes by
Burdened with Ufa's blissful sigh.
Elsio hums a thoughtful air ;
Spreads the table, sets a chair
Where her husbaud first shall ssjo
Baby laughing on her knee;
While she watches him afar,
Coming with the evening star
Through the prairie, through the sky,
Each as f.om eternity. J
 EVEN-SO AG. T h e sonsi h a s d o n e Its t a s k t h a t m a k e s u s b o l d TBUE MABUIAGE.
With s e c r e t s cine u n t o l d , —
A n d m i n e iias run i t s e r r a n d ; t h r o u g h t h e d e w s Let mo not to the marriage of true minds
DV O. W. nOI.MES. I t r a c k e d the Hying M u s e : Admit impediments. Love li not love
T h e d a u g h t e r of t h e m o r n i n g t o u c h e d m y l i p s Whieh alter* when it alteration finds,
With r o s e a t e h u g e r - i i p s ; Or bead* with tbe remover to remove ;—.
I t m a y b e . r e s . It m u s t be. T i m e , t h a t b r i n g * W h e t h - r t w o u l d or w o u l d n o t , I m u s t s i n s 0, no, it in an ever-fixed mark
A D e n d t o m o r t a l 'lun.'s. With till! n e w c h o i r s of S p r i n g : That looks on tempests and la never 6hakea
T h a t s o n d e tbe b e g g a r Whiter In t h e t r a i n N o w , as I w a t c h l u e f a d i n g A u t u m u d a y It is the l u r to every wandering bark,
Ot A u t u m n ' s b u r t h e n e d w a i u , — Aud thrill m y s o f t e n e d l a y . Who-e worth's unknown,'a!though his hlgbtbe tsk
T i m e , t h a t is heir of all our e a r t h l y s t a t e . I t h i n k of all t h a t l i s t e n e d , a n d of o n e Love's uot Time's fool, though rosy I ips aud cheeks
A n d knoweth well to w a i t Fur w h o m a b r i g h t e r auu Within uia bending sickle's compass come
Till s e a h a t h t u r n e d to s h o r e a n d s h o r e t o s e a . D a w n e d lit high S u m m e r ' s n o o n . A h , c o m r a d e s dear. I 0T
" * altera not with his brief hours and w « e t t
If s o It need m u s t h e . Aru not all g a r n e r e d hero I But b«*n it out ov'n to the edge »f doom
E r e h e m a k e g o o d bis-clnitn a n d c a l l h i s o w n Our h e a r t s have, answered,-— Y e s ! t h e y h e a r our c a l l , " J W l be error and upon me proved,
Old e m p i r e s o v e r t h r o w n . — All g a t h e r e d here ! a i l ! nil 1 I never writ, nor no man over loved.
T i m e , w h o oan find no h e a v e n l y orb too l a r g o
T o hold Its fen in e b u r c e , T H E E V E OF ELECTION.
N o r a i w m o r e s t h a t fill its b e a m s o s m a l l , TWO PICTl/aE8.
B u t he shall care for all,— DT EMIIY HCTTTDtaTOtf MILLKlt. BY JOHN « . W U I T T I E K .
I t m a y be, m u s t bo,—yes, he s o o n s h a l l tire I.-LOOKING OUT.
T h i s hand t h a t h o l d s t h e l y r e . From gold to fray one mild sweet day
E o s y and worm the (Ire light falls. Of Indian Summer fades too soon;
T h e n y e w h o listened In t h a t e a r l y d a y In the rich man's home,"to-night,
W h e n to m y c a r e l c v i l a y But tenderly above the seal
Ou the pictures hanging against the walls, Hangs white and calm the Hunter s moon.
I [Hutched its c h o r d s and s t o l e t h e i r first-born t h r i l l , And the children's faces bright.
With u n t a u g h t rurtcft skill They have parted the curtain's crimson folds In ita pale Ore the village spire
V e x i n g a treble from t i n s l e n d e r s t r i n g s Away from the window biirh. Shows like the zodiac's spectral lance:
T h i n as til* locust s i n g s And their eyes look ont at tho whirling s n o w . And painted walls, whereon it falls.
W h e n t h e shrill-crying child of S u m m e r ' s h e a Transfigured stand in marble clay.
And the dull and stormy fky.
P i p e s from hirt l e a f y s e a t . O'er fallen leaves the west wind grieves.
T h e d i m pavilion lit e m b o w e r i n g g r e e p ! Their dainty garments are rich aud rare, Yet comes the seed-time round sgain ;
Beneath whoso shadowy screen Tkeir faces are fair to see, And morn shall see the B u t e sown Iree
T h e s m a l l s o p r a u l s t tries h i s s i n g i o n o t e A n d the golden d e a i n of their s h i n i n g hair With baleful tares or healthful grain.
A g a i n s t the sang-!i;rd'3 t h r o a t . Is I right us a crown might he ;
A n d many a stranger s t o p s to smile Alone the street the shadows meet
A n d all t h e e c h o e s listen, but iu v a i n ; Of Destlnv, whose hands conceal
T h e y hear no a n s w e r i n g s t r a i n , — s i the. picture, warm and bright, The monlds of fate that shape the Stale.
T h e n y o w h o l i s t e n e d in llint c u r l i e r d a y Tho beautiful children, looking out And make or mar the common weal.
Shall sadly turn a w a y , On the dark and stormy night.
A round I see the powers that be.
S a y i n g . " T h e t h e burns l o w . thn h e a r t h is c o l d I l . - L O O K I N G IN. I stand by empire's primal springs,
T h a t w a r m e d our blood ><( o l d ; With tattered garments, and faces thin, And princes meet. In every str' et.
C o v e r Its e m b e r s a n d t h e liulf-buruc b r a n d s . Abroad in Ihe bitter cold, And hear the tread of uncrowed kings.
A n d let us s t r e t c h our b u n d s Tho poor man's children arc looking in Hark! through the crowd tbe laugh runs loud,
O v e r a briglttor a n d fie..|;-kimllcd ilanie; Through the curtain's crimson fold. Beneath tbe sad, rebuking m o o n ;
Lo, tlii.- is line the s a m e . j Tho bleak wind l o s s e s their rags in scorn, God save the land a carele-ts hand
T h e j o v o u s dinger uf oar uiot n l a g t i m e . 1 Their feet aro aching and hare, May shake or swerve e'er morrow's moon.
F l u s h e d high with l u s t y r u y i i m ! I While they gaze at Iho beauty aud light wtthiu,
And tho children's faces fair. N o Jest is this: one cast amiss
S p e a k kindly, for he b e a r s a h u m a n heart,— May blast tbe hope of Freedom's year:
B u t w n i s p , i- ll:m apart.— i I think, us I hasten olong tho street, O ! take m e where are hearts of prayer.
Tell h i m the woods fhfii? A u t u m n robes h a v e s h o d Ot the beautiful home above And foreheads bowed in reverent fear.
A n d all t h e i r uiru.s iiuvo l i e d . Where tho rich aud tne poor alike will m e e t ,
A n d bhoiiting w i n d s unbuild the n a k e d a o s t s Not lightly fall beyond recall
•And share in the Father's love. The written scroll a breath cau float :
T h e y w a r m e d with p a t i e n t bivasi-a; T h e Lord will open tho s h i n i n g door, The crowning fact, the klngltest act
Toll h h u the. - k y is dark. ' ic s u i i i i u u r o'or And gather l i i s near ones in. Of freedom, Ls the freeman's vote.
A n d hid h i m s i u g n o m u r e ! Tho rich, with their soil and dainty rohos, For pearls that gem a diadem.
A h , w e l l n d a y ; if words so c r u e l - k i n d Aud tho poor, with their garments tain. The diver in the deep sea "lives:
A listening ear might liuil! The rpgal tight we boast t'-n'clu
B u t w h o [hat hears the music, Iu his SOU) j F E N I A N SONG. Is owned through costlier sacrifice.
Of r h y r h m i c w a v e s t h a i roll The blood of Vane: b h prison pain
C r e s t e d w i t h g l e a m s of tire, a n d a s t h e y flow Who traced the palli the pilgrim trod:
Stir all tho d e e p s below T l i e l i a r p t h a t o n e s in T a r a ' s h a l l s And hers whose faith drew strength in death.
Till t h e great pearls un c a l m m i g h t eve,r r e a c h And prayed her Russell up to nod.
L e a p g l i s t o n i u g on thu b e n c h , — Ha'li s a d and s i l e n t lain, Our hearts grow cold: we lightly hold
Who t h a t h a s k n o w n the p a s s i o n and tho p a i n , The right which brave men died lo gain:
T h o rush t h r o u g h h e a r t a n d b r a i n , "iShail sound a g a i n within those wails,
The tire, the cord, the a x , the sword,
T h e j o y so like a p a n g his h a n d is p r e y e d To Freedom's lofty strain ; "irirn nurses at its birth of pain.
H a r d on his t h r o b b i n g b r e a s t .
W h e n t h o u . whoso, s m i l e is life a n d bliss a n d f a m e A n d ' ' r a n d a n d c l e a r t h e n o t e s h a l l s . v e l l Your shadow* rend, a i d tftr us bend,
riast s e t Mis pul.-c aflame. O: martyrs wilh voar crowns and palms.
In m u s i c o n tiie g a l e , Breatho through these throngs your battle-songs,
M u s e of tile l y r e ! can s a y f a i e w u l ! to t h c o t Your scaffold prayers and dungeon psalms.
A l a s ! and UIIHK it be I T o g r e e t t h e o l d g r e e n llae; s o w e l l ,
Look from the sky, like Ood's great PVP.
Iu m a n y a clinic, in m a n y a s t a t e l y t o n g u e Willi ?oug3 of I n u i s f a i l ! Thou solemn moon wilh searching beam.
T h o m i g h t y bards Imvn u m i a : Till In the nightof thv pure light
T o t h e s e the i m m e m o r i a l ilii-nitc* b e l o n g Our mean self-secfngs meaner seem.
0 E r i n I I h o n l o v e d l a n d o f 3oiig'.
A n d purple rubes uf xullg; Hharae from our hearts nnworthv arts.
V e t t h e BliifUl lllitl.-lrcl loviw tr.o s l e n d e r t o n s T h y sun is v a i l e d , H o t set ! T h e fraud designed, tne purpose dark:
H i s lilts m a y call his o w n . And smite away the hands we lay
A u d finds tne m e a s u r e of ilu; v e r s o moro s w e e t T h y s p i r i t t h a t hr.'.h s l e p t s o l o n g , Profanely on the sacred ark.
T i m e d by hi* purse's h e a t , S i i a . l w a k i in initiator y e t ! To party claims and private aims,
T h a u all the l i y m i n i i g s u f li;u l a u r e l e d Uirong. • T Reveal that august face of truth.
Say not I ijsi iuni w r o n g . A n d r o u n d t h y l o n e l y s h o r e s , L o c h L o i n To which are riven tbe age of Heaven.
F o r N a t u r e .-pnils huf w a r b l e r s , — t h e m s h e f e e d s The beauty of immortal youth.
III l u t u s - g r o w i n g m e a d s A n d iiy I h e s i l v e r y L e e ,
A u d pours lliiiui s u b t l e d r a u g h t s from h a u n t e d s t r e a m s So shall our voice of sovereign choice
T r i m I r i s h s w o r d s s h a l l flash a s r a i n , Hwell the deep bass of duty done,
That till their suUis w i t n d r e a m s . And strike the key or* time to he
A n d I r e l a n d s h a l l b e free ! When God and man shall speak as one.
F u l l w e l l i k n o w the g r a c i o u s m o t h e r ' s w i l e s
A n d dear dcim-ive s u u i e s ! 'Tlio A i i t i e ] . „ i-ationce.
N o c a l l o w l i . u g l i i . g of her . i t g i u g brood A spirit stirs w i t h i n t h y blooil —
But testes that wit-hing load. It .-hall j i o t s t r i i c e a m i s s ! Bosklo the tallstiniy -.vay.
A n d h e a l i n g o v e r h e a d :he e a g i e ' s w i n g . T.Giieiv and dark by fruits aWI flowers unhi^st,
A n d link* tho tlifU-iie* u o g . It f e e l s '.he s t r i f e h c y o i c l t h e flood
Which my ,vorn ,'i-ot :rtmj ^iuly, day by -la),
V e n t s iiii e x i g u o u s riiir't, attd ii'om ills u c s t T i l t parts t h y shore from this. UHiJS'Ug iu •*aia for rust.
F l a p s u<rth—we k n o w ! u e h«sfc.
I o w n the wc.ak'iess uf the t u n e f u l kind,— C o l u m b i a s o w s w a r ' s •! r a g o n t e e t h , An augol softly w.ii'i«.
A m not old harpers Uhltil I With i-alo .!~eet fstht, auu ey 4 scajt tneokit down,
I s a n s too tfitHy, m u s t ! shut •<»! tats) 4 B y m a n , ' a hi.I a n d f e n ,
Tho -viiilu, frem withered l.mVei auu Ihcverlctt slaiks,
T h e l e n g t h e n i n g siintetws w a i t N o r r e c k s h o w on t h e I r i s h l i e a l l * She weavtij my n u i u - crown.
T h e first pale stars o; tv.-.a.-ur,—j ,;t h o w s w o a t
T h e flattering whisper'.) uln at.— T h e y spring- u p a r m e d m o u ! And iweet aud Bailout ^.ac \
" T h o u hast :hu lire no e v e n i n g chiii c a n t a m e , A. look of arm ondurance, t r it -j and triad,
Wlioic DOUls o;i;la.-i,::,: ilauic. ." From Antrim to the Southern l a k e s , Uf suffering isonkly burns, leaia on k&r lacs—
So pure, so jlorlfied,
E j r e w e l l y e enrols of t h e l a u g h i n g m o m , From T r a l e o to Klltlare,
Of Hurhc'l Miaskinc b o r a ! And when my faintins: heart
T h o s o w e r dings thu seen a n d l o o k s 1191 b a c k One s i l e n t s p i r i t w a l k s and w a k e s
Jfeprtondf and murmur* at ita atttarM fate,
A l o n g Ht-i furrowed i r . i c k ; T h e l i o n In h i s l a i r ? Xiien -piietly thuanafvi'a bright iip-t 'iari,
T h o r e a p e r l e a v e s t h e s i u l k s for o t h e r h a n d s Whispciia- iof!ly, "Wait I"
F r o m Arraghmore'3 far s t o r m y steep;
Tttic'i'" with i-itTldit lritiittn'?
T h o w i u d . eartu'.-irar.'-lc.-s , o r v i i l t t , tlliuui-horrf, To Carlow mil Kin?ale, "raiienco."' she iW.'8l!y ini'L—
Blow.-. e:u.:a tho b e p ' c u tor:; "Tha Father's mercies HOYCM- ennju :o,> i i t e -
A n d ipiil;. tin- tares ..•;•' i'.nur, a u d g o e s his w a y Thou rises!, giant-like, from si-'ep ; (iird thee with patiiri t .strength and m u t i n g faith,
T o snort with '.ivui'.-i »pray ; And iirm uuduia:...-j_,va;::''
T h e headlo:'-'->::u::: •; g r i v i . i o i , .-erauibUng d o w n Arise! s t r i k e lloiflv! prov.r.'.!
To w.i-.i ,:.e *- . 1 --,;rt l o w u . Angel I l.ohold, I wait,
Still kMKWiliiil of i'ee ,-:-.-i:u a m i b i l l o w y w a s t o Wearing the ihoruy srowil Ihrilldll aii ii.'c'i hrsr.i—
Whose .-ait lie- l o e g s to ruhfe, Wiit till ihy hand shall open ,h-.. eternal salo,
E i ' i Mis wnrai jVavo its c h i l l i n g oii.^p m a y feel, Audcbang-.i the I!,,.IIIH lo Ih.wera.
11a., t w i r l e d tUl) lUllhjf'.* Wheol. — .''.la Fruni^ii:>:n l'i:ntt.

THE CHILDREN'S PAETY.
I.
ITTTLB Nellie Adele De Lcs Denier
Bad Just attained her thirteenth year.
Fair as &flowerwas the face she wore,
Sweet the expression Of love it bore.
The heart was fall of childhood's gold,
A» fall us a birthday heart could hold.
The blue 6ky never so blue before,
The earth a whiter robe ne'er wore;
The sun's ray6 never were half so bright,
Dazzling ber eyes with golden light;
And l i e birthday festival was to be
A party as gay as party could be.
Already the hangers had come with their
flowers,
The alcoves were looking like wild-wood
bowers;
The statues were twined with ivy and fern,"
While roses were springing from mantle and
urn;
Japonicae dazzled in tropical wealth ]
forget-me-not showed its sweet face as by
stealth;
The calla, majestic, towered grandly on high ; ' But on no prettier eight have thev resiec. I know,
The pale crocus sighed, "Oh, pass me not by";
•While Nellie Adele De Les Denier
Was the sweetest flower that blossomed Thus childhood ano manhood shall bcflh be bright.
there.
'Twos after eight, and the tinkling sound
Of sleigb-bells over the snowy ground
Brought a ropy light to Nellie's cheek,
Prophet of joys she might not speak.
In her gossamer robes of pearly white,
•With curls Hang back in her young delight,
Bhe stood 'ncath the brilliant chandelier,
With a lady-like welcome as each drew near.
There were boys as fair and rosy as girls,
And maidens with smiles and ribbons and
curls ;
There were pretty speeches and gentle ways,
That carried me back to childhood's days ;
There was music and dancing and flirting
too—
For children will act SB their ciders do.
Dainty white kids on boyish hands
Clasped jeweled lingers or toyed with fans;
While blue eyes drooped o'er the blushing
cheek,
At daring flatteries brave boys speak.
A stirring march 6trlkes up the band,
And miniature beaux take maids by the hand
And lead to the supper, so grand a 6ipht,
With creams and jellies quivering in light;
Cakes and confection in pyramids high,
fruits from all lands beneath the sky,
Wonderful things that dance and sing
And jets of sweetness 'round them fling—
A score of delights I may not tell,
That added a charm like a fairy spell.
But midnight came e'er the children slept,
And bloom from the peach-like check was
swept.
The glad light faded from eyes of blue.
And voices were weak and weary too.
Their joy was a joyful thing to see;
Their weariness sad as sad could be.
For the children were cross, I must confess;
Hut the party you'll own was a grand success.
A riCTURE.
Kitting tbere in the old barn door.
One, two. three i
On? (>'.isen Beer, with hnr golden hair,
Meck-eved Allie. nnn handsome Clare;
And o'er all. the sunbeams ling'ring tnerc.
What prettier sight can there be?
They are weary ; tired of play.
Strange though i; may be :
Tired or romping o*er lrQgrant hay.
With chasing butterflies tt'l the d:iy,
With climbing to look, at the nest mat lay
High In the apple tree.
Hark: they're telling tales of fairy-la-d,
WondrofiK and strange:
Of bright-eyed maiden*, and stern, old kings:
Of tiny tie.inire. Witt gossamer wings.
Of jewel*, and diamond*, and all Fitch thing*
O'er which childish fancies range.
And now they are building castles of air,
One by one.
Grand un-t Duar.tiVul: ioworln:-high'
T'illiug with rapture each beaming eye ;
Ye; ready at only a t/rtuik, to Uy,
CJuick to be gone.
I can hear the laugh and the merry pound
Of tneir happy play;
I can see thein running to ind fro.
And the sunbeams come, and the sunnef-Tis go,
Than this, to-day.
"Yet call cot these life', happiest days,
When I hey are gone ;
For ail life it happy, if Uved aright,
Ana shine each day with a fairer light,
At tic years roll os.
Bnt sometimes, far of.' in the years'to come,
When childhood is o'er,
•they'll look back to this picture with pleasure I
know.
And thei.- hearts will thrill with a warmer g l o r .
Caught from 'lie sunbeams that come and go.
On the rough, worn floor.
—Selected.
EUGENIA.
What ptiil i.i price within ber lay
1 could not know v lien fir^i 1 met her.
So little studious lot hersell,
Almost she asked w* should forget her
As the ros*-heurl Al prime of dawn,
Herself within her,til" withdrawn:
And yet we tell that someluiug there
Was fairer than the fairest fair.
I marked hor go'ngs through the day.
lutc.it upon ber maideu mission ;
The manners imaging the mind,
Tue flawless >eu*e, the sweet decision ;
Sb gracious to the hand* she tasked.
Bhe seemed to do the thing she asked:
And then 1 knew that something there
iYas fairer tnaa the fairest lair.
llcreyes spoke peace ; and voice and step
The message ul her eye repeated;
Truth, belo-brighl about her brows,
And Faith on the fair furehead seated j
And lips where quiet wed-t with fun,
Aud sense and sweetness are at one ,
1 looked, and looked: and something there
WHS lairer than the fairest fair.
A lake beneath her casement lies,
0 the fair soul an image showing;
KerctiHl} blitbt andcaiuili pure.
W ilh depths beyond our thoughts or knowing ;
Where Heaven cunies down with all Its grace
To find itself withiu her iace,
And tlio heart owns that something there
Is luii-er thau tue fairest lair.
"0 .Inst and faithful child of God I
thrive happy bo;" 1 cried, "who by her
Finos ID her eyes ins home of hope,
lUa*is in her smile his heart's desire ;
The sm.le of radiunce fruni above,
I Of equali Ic aud perfe t love 1 "
— 1 sighed—she smiled, and something there
Wa» fairer than the fairest fair
1—F. T. fulnratt.
KIDING DOWK.
Ob did you see him rldlug down.
Aud riding down, wjiile .ill the town
On urn out to see. came out to see,
And all the iielh rungroadwith gle-.r
Oh did you bear tho^e belli ring nut.
The boils ring out, the people snout.
And did you hear lua". clioer on cheer
That iivei- all lb" bulls rang clear''
And did vou see ihc waving flag:.
The fl'inc.-iug dags, the taitored flags.
Red.wa.te au.l bine, shol through aud through,
llapt.zed with battle'.! deadly dew 1
Aud did yon hear the drum's gay beat,
; The drum's gay beat, the bugles sweet,
The.cyiDliale chub. the. cunuun's crash,
l Thsl rent lbs sky Willi sound aud il.tsli'
Aud did you see nit waiting there,
.lost wailing there.ana waich.ug there.
Out- little lass, aunt) tue mass J
Thai pressed it, so? tue hern j>as *
Au:l did you sec- him smiling down.
And Buiiling down, as riding down
With slowest pace, with stalely fi'fftc?
llecaugut tile vision 01 r. inee.—
\\\ face, uplilted red and while,
Turned reu ami White With rlieer delight.
To meet tne eyes, lue s.u.iiug eyes,
ilultlnrhiug in the.r swiit surprise -
oh di.l you see how iwlfi it came.
How swiit it cuiue, like sudueii flsnu.
T'h'it "iiiilv In me, n> ..uly me,
The little i«— who blushed to see*
And al the wiuiows all along.
Oil all ah ng, a lovely tbruug
Of luce* luir. beyouu compare, '
ll»uuic<: out upon biui riumg thete
Hath fact- vVks like a radiant tent,
A sparkling gem. aud yel lor tneni
No swili HIII,i,. ciaic. Iiku sudden li.ii...
\<i arrowy pinnce tool; coriuui aiui.
He tnrueil away from all their grace
From nil that grace of perlecl lace.
He lurueil to me. to oniv nie,
The little las- who blushed to see !
.V.Trf t\rrjt, hi Old anil Xtlv fcr SSp,
SANTA_CLAUS.
I:T A. r. V.
Crismas tomin', ties 1 know
All about ile tandies.
In my Etoilin' biin'in' up,
Mine and brodder Andy's;
Hung 'em by de Ore place,
By de parlor table—
Dolly's stayin' down dere, too.
In her 'itlle trudle.
She won't shut her eyes all night,
Toz 1 told her not to,
Only dus; a 'itlle bit,
So dat she tan peep froo.
••Santa Glaus 13 tomin' down,
Froo de dreat bid chimney,
When it tlrows all bint and dart,
My', won't him loot bimly!
Will his whisieis Ion' add, white,
rianin' all wid tandy,
And his buir all juniplng-jacks,
Dem's for brodder Andy.
In his pottets, way down deep,
Dere's lobs o' tings 1 know;
Dolly knew he tame bctore,
And den 'twas rainin' snow.
Den de bid hump on his bat,
Got some sooes or eiifun,
Dnt dust Dts me, nl'ays does,
He never tomed wid nuflin.
Now I'se duin' to bed and seep,
Fas' as ever 1 tan;
Den when early niorniu' tomes,
I'll wate up urodiler An.
Dolly'll tell me all bhe sees,
She'll be waain' for me;
Dolly'll peep and S.oita'U tink,
Toz eyes shut, she tan'l see.
 w*x* mn mmm
THE SUNSET.
'•\• • BT SH1RL1T.
'Tvraa a balmy ev« in summer,
IJarth and sky were rail of song;
And the breeze with softest murmur
. Flayed the fragrant flowers among.
All the west was fall of glory,
I- •' Gleam of jasper, gleam ol gold;
And the distant mountain hoary
Blazed like Sinai of old.
Over forest, mount and meadow,
Swept the floods of chriamal light;
On to meet the lingering shadow
Of the melancholy night.
In the doorway of a dwelling
Sat a maiden pare and fair;
And the sunlight o'er her swelling,
Tinged with gold her dark brown hair.
By the maiden in the doorway
Knelt a youth of stalwart form;
And be gazed into the glory
Of her smile so soft and warm. *
She was fair, so fair and youthful,
Fifteen summers"wreathed her brow;
k And her eyes were soft and truthful,
And her lips were sweet, I trow.
|'He was young, but care bad written
Liaes upon his forehead high;
,-And his blue eye flashing, flitting,
Told of griefs in days gone by.
Now he seemed to have forgotten
E'en the memory of pain;
And the sunlight had begotten,
Sunlight in his heart again.
And he smiled and looked as happy,
As 'tis mortal's lot to be;
While the glory through the doorway,
Streamed m like a golden seu.
For he loved this star-eyed biFdie
With a passion deep and strong;
And bis heart beat high and sturdy
For the strife that comes ere long.
For this life is but a battle,
•v.Aud we all, if we would win,
^ l u s t n o t , like " d u m b driven cattle, "
f* Shrink amid the roar and din.
JJi$ht and wrong are ever waging
''-'•..Deadliest war, while, night and day
In the murky conflict raging:,
K " Men and demons throng the way.
He had oiten heard the roaring
Of the contest far away,
And had seen the legions pouring
On to mingle in The iray.
And when shonts ot vi<:;ory telling,
Rung their echoes in his ear;
All his soul 'vithiu him swelling,
Bur.i?d to join the conqueror's cheer.
He yearned to do ionic deed or other
That should deeply grave hi* name,
On the heart of many a brother
Whom .ie'd saved from sin and shame.
On humanity's great altar,
There to lay his hear; and brain;
JT And iu toiling never falter,
f> Tho' the days grow dark with pain.
And now in the doorway kneeling,
With the golden waves of light
Softly o'er his features stealing,
He felt strengthened for the light.
For another light is gleaming
O'er his spirit like a star;
Love-light from those sol": eyes beaming,
From that gentle face so fair.
AVISHKS.
Sweet bo her i2renins, lite fair, the young !
Gracu. beauty, luvatbo upon her !
Music, hiiimt thou about hor tonguo '
I.i!'•.'. till her p:ith with hunur !
All golden thought*, all wealth of days,
Trtiih. friwwls-hjp, love,surround her !
So DI iv she bfftile till life bo Uoeed,
And angel hands havo crowned her!
SFBING'S FIRST GIFT-
Obi Spring, if thou hadst nothing brought
Save thy sweet self to win us,
If ooly thy fair baad had wrought
A spell at beauty iu us, .
Need were that wo should sing thy praise,
Who I brill to thy caresses, •
And I've) tho gladness f the days
That all our being blesses!
For we had thought thy coming slow,
And had QO heart to wait thee!
Forgive UK, love, since long ago
We all went out to meet thee.
We went by each untrodden way
We sought in silent places,
KM!' well we knew our patient faith
Should find thy flower traces!
And, hidden half by sore dead leaves,
We saw a vine-life growing;
Sure never fullest Autumn iheaves
Awakened joy so glowing.
Hereafter Summer's roses may
Iu red or white salute us,
But this is Memory's crowning day,
The day we found arbutus!
Oh I clover on tho meadow slopes,
Oh ! daisies by the rivor. -.*M
Oh! little hud to light that opes, *- •
Oh! cellar green forerer! • . •. •%, ;V^'
Not ouo so wins our heart to-day ,,
As this, whose'brown disguises
Of withered leaves auU lances gray
Oare us such glau surprises.-
So shy and sweet beneath our leet.
Green leaves and waxen flowers,
The snow white, blushing pink to mu«i
Such louts of love as ours!
And Spring no more may hide away,
Nor ahuu our smiling faces,
Sine*;, linger wbero3oe'er she may.
We kuuv her trysting places.
W I U T U E Y COME A G A I N t
The fervid sun Is calling
The dew drops home on high,
from broolc and lake and river
The vapors seek the sky.
Earth gives them up reluctant,
And faint with thirst and heat,
Mouris for her children of the dawn,
So raldant aud so fleet.
But they have not forgotten
In heaven's serener ray.
The beauty and the brightness
From which they fled away.
The dew remembers fondly
The sweetness of the rose,
And the spirit of the rivulet
Its early music knows.
And when the earth Is fainting
And weary for the rain.
In showers of love and blessing
They come to her again I
With cold, refreshing fingers,
They bathe her heated brows,.
And th c son« that they have learned on high
Threugh all her belogflowsI
Oh! dare we take the lesson
Of the dew drop and the rale?
Do the angels who have left us
Return to us again?
In heaven's eternal sunshine,
Renewed and purified—
Do they keep the memory of the horn* v Too wild to be united ;
In which they lived and died.
When wo arise from weeping
For the Idols we adored,
And our lips repeat with fervor,
"All, all shall be restored."
Are they not bending o'er us
With more than human love,
And whispering to our iuuiost hearts
Of holier joys above ?
Descend, 0, blessed angels,
In glories ever new ;
Reveal to us new lessons
Of the beautiful and true,
As he rain the earth refreshes,
Let your love on UB be shed.
Till we follow up the rainbow path
Whither our loved are fled.
H I S FIIIST KISS.
First time h^ kissed me, lie but only kisced
Tho Angers of tli's hand wherewith I write,
And evermore it grew more clear and white,
Slow to world's greetings—u.uick witu it's "uh list''
When tho angels speak. A ring of Amethyst
I could not wear here plainer to my sight,
Thau that first kfss. Tim second passed in height
The first, and sought the forehead, and h-lf missed,
Half falling on the hair. O, beyond meed '
Thut WHS tho chrism of love, which love's own crown
With sanctifying sweetness did precede.
The third upon my Itps was folded down
In perfect purple state I Sitco when, indeed,
I have heeu proud, and said—"niy love, my own !"
NOVEfliBER.
Tr.
The following pretty poem, appropriate to this
season of the* year, Is from the graceful pen of
James G. Clark, the poet vocalist:
The red sun gathers up his beams,.
To bid the withered earth farewell.
And voices from the swelling streams
Are ringing with the evening bell;
The cold lake sobs with restless grief.
Where late the water lilies grew.
While autumn fowl, and autumn leaf
. Ar.e sailing downjhej'ivers bine.
ForsalcerTare lhe''woodIauflYhrincs.
The robin and the wren have fled.
And winds are walling through the pines,
A dirge for summer's glorious dead ;
E'en man forsakes his dally strife.
And muses ou the bright things flown,
( As if In Natures changing life
lie saw tho picture of his own.
1
I often think, at this late hour,
As evening weeps her earliest tear,
And suns tgilds the naked bower,
Aud \yavea ar'e7breakm>fcold and clear,
Of that glad time,-wboa<rinemury dwells
Likeftirrlight o*er HfeVeteudy-weather.
When side by side we roved the dells
Of proud New England's coast together.
Twas on old Plymouth's rock-famed shore,
One calm November nicht with thee,
•I watched the long light trembling o'er
The billows of the eastern sea ;
The weary day had sunk to rest
Beyond the lines of Unties* wood.
And guardian clouds from south to west,
Arrayed in rays of crimson stood.
We climbed the bill of noble graves.
Where the stern Patriarchs of the laud,
deemed listening to the same grand waves
Thut freed them from th1 oppressors hand:
W-) talked of spirits pure and kind.
With gentle forms cud loving eyes.
Of happy homes we iefi behind.
In ratal buneutb the western skies,
A few briof days—and when thcesrth
Grew white around the traveler's feet.
And bright tires blazed on every hearth.
We parted, neve-more to meet
Until 1 go. where thou art gone.
From this dark world of death and blight.
And walk with thee above the sun
That sank upon thygravo to-night.
I hear the muffled tramp of years
Come stealing up the slope of Time;
They bear a train of smiles and tear?.
01 burning hopes and dreams subl'.me ;
But future years may never fling
A treasure from their passing "hours,
Like those that come on sleepless wing,
From memory's golden plain of flowers.
The morning breezes of long ago
Sweeps o'er my brain with soft cou'rol.
Fanning the embers to a glow.
Amidst the ashes round mv soul ;
As by the dim and flickering light,
I see tny beauteous form appear.
Like one returned from wanderings bright.
To bless my lonely moments here.
UPON T H Y T R U T H R E L Y I N G .
They say wo aro to> young to lo*"c,—
In "corn they idd us both renounce
The fond vows we have plighted.
They send thee forth to see the world,
Thy love by absence trying
Then go; for I causmile farewell,—
Upon thy truth rolying.
I know that Pleasure's hand will throw
Her-silkon nets about thie;
I know how lynesouie I shall find
The long, long davs without thse,
Butln thy lettors there'll be joy;
The reading—tho replying;
I'll kiss each word that's traced by ihse,—
Upon thy truth relying.
When friends applaud theo, I'll ait by
In silent rapture gazing;
And ohl how proud of btiug loved
By her they havo been praising !
But should detraction breath thy name,
Tho world's reproof deryinp.
I'd love the,—laud thee,—tfuSI thee still,—
Upon thy trutfc relying.
I E'en those who smile to see us prut.
Shall soc us meat with wonder ;
Such trials only roako tho In-art
That truly loves grow fonder.
Our sorrows past shall In our pride,
When with each other vying ;
Thou wIU confide in him who lives
Upon thy truth relying.
...jiaL
 JIT B A B L I S U S ,
My ROM, IO red and rou-id,
My Duisy, darliug of tho summer weather,
You must godowu now, and keep house together,
Low underground t
0 little silver line
Of meadow water, ere the cl oud rise darkling
Slip oat of light, aud with your comely sparkling
Make their hearth thine, i
:
- • Leaves of tho garden bowers,
The frost la coming soon,—your prime is over;
So gently fall, and make a soft, warm cover
To bouse my flowers.;
Lithe willow, too, forego
The crown that makes you queen of woodland graces,
Nor leave the winds to sheer the lady tresses
From your drooped brow.
Oak, held by strength apart
From all the trees, stop now your stems from growing,
And aend the up, while yet 'tis bravely flowing,
Back to your heart.
* y * ^ And ere the autumn sleet
Freeze Into ice, or silt to bitter snowing,
Make compact with your peers' for overatrowlng .
My darlings sweet.
So when tlioir sleepy eyes
Shall be uuloekod by May with rainy kisses,
Tbey to the sweet reuowul of old blisses
Kvfreshed may rise.
Lord, in that evil day
When my own wicked thoughts Irke thieves waylay me
Or when pricked conscience rises up to tiny me,
Shield me, 1 pray.
Ay, when the storm shall drive,
Spread thy two blessed bandsli*« leavesabovo me,
And with thy great love, tuuugh ueuo else should love
me,
Save me alive .'
Hear with thy peace my strife j
And at the poet with bit golden verting
Lights bis low hoaso, give me, thy praise rehearsing,
To light my life,
.'< Shed down thy grace in thowert,
And if some roots of good, at Iheir appearing,
Be found in mo, transplant tbeffi tor the rearing
Ofboavenly flowers:
T H E BECBET-
And not a word by her wot spoken ,
For many a listener's ear was by ,
But sweetly was tbe silence broken,
For eye could well Interpret eye.
Soft to thy green pavilion ateeliog.
Fair Beech, tb> stilly abadee 1 gain;
Oh, veil witn bought that droop, concealing
Two lovers from the world profane!
Far off, with dull, unquiet clamor,
Labors the vexed and busy day ,
And through tbe bum tbe sullen hammer,
Comet heaving down its heavy war.
That man pursues but weary calling,
And wrings the bard life from tbe sk.v,
While unboughi bappineet is falling
Down from riod's bosom silently.
Tbe charm to u> In secret granted
May never mortal step destroy I
For they whom Joy hat ne'er enchanted
Are Hill tbe jealous foes of joy.
Bl Its it a boon tbe world danietn,
And thou must chose her at the prey;
Iuauare and seize her at tbe filetb,
Ere envy match the priie sway.
Soft, upon tiptoe, coyly stealing,
She loves tbe silence and tbe night;
From spies that watcb, bar steps concealing;
And seen.—to vanish from tbe tight.
O gird at round, thou softest river,
With broader waters clatp at round ;
And let thy threatening wave* forever
Protect Love's sanctuary around.
Tf/HEN J7IBST.
; A *rt••*•
••.*•::.* '•:-,:.."-, >-r- ' Lulled by the croon of a lullaby. '
' * iKWrben flrtt my' eyes beheld thee enitle,
V, J T > ' My upon fled to thee In that gaie,
J J V A S I But wnkn-I heard thee apeak awhilo
"'• $ • . I ceased thy lovely.fonn to praise I
y, For-hislrer girts thy being bore
•'..!, Thou those a beauteous cheek endow;
ft*&&& U * l o * t •%.t«nrt before,
L'iiE?--C.Oh, IOTA.™«5**» flaw with It now I
U w t a o r t an«Mpl ahall mil be thine,
t^Ert.*?**1fV oam
* «' Ula the wont;
*WM*\ to thy llfa't decline,
"WW* tbe/. wooed and loved thee flrtt t
oft alas; their aweetett Mat..-"
•""ry.ItaNhtth ledthe tree; ''
r^rssairi[Wotmhatti-vanltbed long,
•^"'fonder eiing to thee 1
F
?AfKER PAUL.
BY V A R Y K Y L E D A L L A S .
Tbe Hibernian's wife went down to watcb
Her husband's boat come In from tbe sea;
M1:
One babe lav/ at rett on ber motherly breast,
Another Little one stood at ber knee;
And the/ said " Good even' I" to Father Paul,
Reading bis book by tbe old church wall.
His eyes the/ followed them over tbe s a n d -
Over tbe sand and down to tbe sea,—
" Oh, never a woman In all the world
Will lull nw babe on ber breast I" sighed he,—
"JftaeuJjM," moaned Father Paul;
" To wear serge and sandal is not all."
Afar tbe glint of the fisherman's sail
Caught Rosabel's e/e as she went to prayers—
" An, happy," said she, " the woman must be,
Who jo/ and woe with her loved one shares I
Would that a boat sailed over the sea
Freighted as Mate boat Is for me."
Father Paul, by tbe convent wall
Striving to read, striving to pray,
saw with bis heart, if not with his eyes,
What woman It was who came that way—
" Ob, the heart is a snare," sighed Father Paul,
" And Satan tempteth us, one and all"
Father confessor he sat in bis chair;
Penitent knelt she upon ber knee.
" Tbe purest angel in all tbe 6kies
Might have more sin to confess than she,"
Thus to himself said Father Paul.
Thus to himself—and it was not alL
Be put the crucifix into her hand—
Into ber band as she knelt at his knee,—
"Thou bast not stolen t Thon b u t not Bed T
Thou bast not been light of love T" asked fce,-
For this be must say, young Father Paul,
To kneeling penitents, one and all.
And to each and all of the things he said—
Of the tilings he ssked as she knelt at bis knee,-
Tbe girl said " no;" yet ber golden head
Lower and lower In shame bowed she.
" Then must thou tell me," sighed Father Paul,
"Whether thou bast done wrong at alL" .
Then In the silence one could bear
Tbe silence that la/ between the two—
The monastery bells ring out,
Frightening the swallows as home the/ flew.
" Daughter," he whispered, " tell me all."
She made no answer to Father Paul.
Rang the bells on tbe twilight air,
Lengthened the shade of the convent wall:
Silently still the girl knelt t h e r e -
Knelt at the feet of Father Paul.
Not a word, not a word, not a word was said;
But nil young band rested upon her llead. .
" Hast thou coveted aught J" said Father Paul,
As he saw the fisherman's wife go by, , Till tre are moved to weep
Cuddling ber babe In her knotted shawl, .
' '•'
" It needeth our Lord's grace most of all
To covet nothing,"!, said Father Paul; <,*•'•'!
She saw tbe fisherman Mas his wife *•"'"
And toss the.urctiin, who'crowed with glee,
And under her lashes the hot tears crept. ,
"Oh, I am sinner of sinners," said she; . ,
" I have coveted that, oh, Father Paul, • • ' '
, Which Is Heaven's only and Heaven's aB 1" . .
" Is it the treasure our coffers bold, .• ,i>- <••••
:•• Or the gems on the shrine of Our Lady fair.
Or tbe oapt and flagons of beaten gold,,., i...
Or tbe pearls that gleam In the virgin's hsir,
Or tbe lands of our church 7" asked Father Paul;
" Or aught thataur church her own can call ?T
' "Objf akSii&e?brainier*!" said anejjrS*!^-''•"<
. { ^(Jb^.am'SOTlIbepitf compare^
©
fir
She could not look np Into bis eyes.
But he heard the throb of her frightened he
And saw the flush to her forehead rise, ,,
Where the pale-gold tresses fell apart: . A
And his own heart's trembling told him aL '"•'1 a L _
She would have bidden from Father Paul. '.'.'Si
" Child, thou art hoUer tar than I— ''7U
Nearer thy bosom tbe angels come. .MSf
Ob, a soul so pure can never lie: ••i«;
Life's holiest things are hearth and home— '
Holler far than the granite wall
Of a monkish prison," said Fattier Paul,
And he did not kiss her, as often do
Father confessors, upon tbe brow;
On ber mouth bis mouth, to kisses new,
Showered kisses wanner for that, I trow:
" And may God judge us, my love, .for all,
Though tbe priesthood ban us," said Father Paul
The monks of the monastery ten, •-
How, one midsummer eve. In woman's guise,
At the ringing of Vesper bell,
Satan gave them a sad surprise,
And bore from the shade of their sacred waB
Their best-loved brother, young Father Paul,
But far away, under other skies,
•Midst yellow waving of golden grain,
A homestead's happy walls arise,
Where love and plenty hold blissful reign; '
And he who is master of It all
His wife calls tenderly "Father Paul" _
W H A T SONG B H A L L IT BB-
What *im.) il LB* What song
Will win j'onr fancy, dear, «T;
•viiii ixiuvM your heart to sing-
As ini lit* is moved tu hear :
ftMll it be gay or sad—
IS right us ibe linnet's strain,
Or iufl of unshed tear*
'.'but deaden life with paiu '••
I touch llu- key*and wait,
Watching those dreamy eye",
Th it hide their thoughts M Mar*
Are hid in bluest skies;
No furtive flash betrays
There is tin tell-title gleam ; »
Help me then,dear, to try
And read yonr waking drenni.
&uy. shall the song he ripe,
. With Summers of the post,
With io*y blossoms abed,
With Miuthin* overcmt ?
Shalt Dcenea and soundt* that were
in plea«ant memories itroug,
And Kong giro.life again
The (hiyK when life ws< fcflttg)
^hall kmlder fniicie« Aud
An rudio in tbe tone.
O'er eorrows not our own ?
Or shall heroic deed*
Move a4 lo fierce delight,
A* when A clarion tlirfllv
The pulses of- the night t
Shall laughter bnl>ldliigrist>,
Like streams that scawitrd go,
And prodigal of life,
Wrestle to overflow.!
Or 'noftth n deeper spell,
Say. shell the mnsic uinv«,
Stirring the hearts of utl,—
Shall it discourse or love?
Alt! dreamy eye*, that hide
Their secret thought ao well,
A burning cheek reveals,
A silent lip call tell. •"••" r ' *
i
Wlmt ntwd to ask, the straits.
That youth to youth will bring;
• Lore it bos ever sung

' "A nun la, In |antral, better pleated when he has a
i good dinner npon hij table than when his wife -
: 3reek."—&m. Johmm.
John son ww right I don't agree to all
The solemn dogma* of the rough old stager;
Bat Tery much approve what ona may call
The minor raorali of the " Una Major."
• With her rattle and her dram,
Johnson wa* right. Although some man adore
Wisdom in women, and with learning cram her,
There ian't one in ten bnt thlnke far more
Of hla own grub than of hit epouse'a grammar.
I know It ii the greateet ahame in life ;
Bnt who among ut, (says, perhaps, mjaalf,}
Returning hungry home, but aiki hla wife
What beef—not bookt—the haa upon the ihelf I
Though Greek and Latin be the lady's bout,
They're little Talued by her loving mate ;
The kind of tongue that huabandi relish molt
Ii modern, boiled aud served upon a plate.
Or If, at fond ambition may command,
Some home-made Terse the happy matron ihow him,
What mortal ipouae but from her dainty hand
Would sooner see a pudding than a poem t
Young lady—deep in love with Tom or Harry—
Til aad to tell you inch a tale aa thia;
But here's the moral of It:—Don't ye marry;
Or, marrying, take your lover aa he la—
A very man, with something of a brute,
(Unless he proTea sentimental hoddy,)
With passions strong, and appetite to boot—
. A thirsty soul within a hungry body !
A Tery man—not one ef nature's clods—
With human feeling, whether taint or sinner;
Endowed, perhaps, with genius from the goda,
But aot to take bis temper from hie dinner.
COOKING A N D DOUBTING.
Tom to Ned.'
Dear Ned,—No doubt you'U be surprised
When you receiTe and read thia letter:
I've railed against the married state,
But then, you see, I knew no better.
I've met a lorely girl out here,
Her manner la—w II—Tery winning ;
We're soon to be—well, Ned, my dear,
111 tell you all from the beginning.
I went to aak her out to ride,
Laet Wednesday—it was perfect weather;
She said ebe couldn't, possibly,
The sorTunts had gone off together.
(Hibernian* always rush away
At cousins' funerals ta be looking),'
Pies must be made, and she must stay,
.She said, to do that branch of cooking.
"Oh, let me help you," then" I cried ;
"111 be a cooker, too,—ho* Jolly 1"
She laughed, and answered, with a smile
. "All right, but you'll repent your folly.
For T shall be a tyrant, sir,
And good hard work you'll hare to grapple:
So ait down there, and don't you stir.
But take that knife and pare that apple,"
She rolled her sleeve abo'vs her arm— '
That lovely arm, so plump and rounded:
Outside the morning sun shone bright,
. laaida.thejdougb she deftly pounded.
Her Httle Angers sprinkled flour,
And rolled the pie-crust up in monies ;
I passed the moat delightful hour
Mid butter, sugar sptVvtelasses.
With deep reflection, her sweet eyes
I Qased on each pot and pan arid kettle;
She sliced the apples, filled her>lea,
And then the upper crust die settle.
Her rippling wares of golden hair
In one great coil were tightly twlated ;
But locks would break out here and there
And curl about where'er tbey listed.
And then her sleeve came down, and I
fastened If up—her hands were doughy;
Ob, It did take the longest time,
Her arm, Ned, was so fair and snowy 1'
She blushed, and trembled, and looked thy;
Somehow that made me all the bolder ;
Hor arcb/ilps looked so red that I—
Well-found her head upon my shoulder.
We're to he married, Ned, next month,
Cotuo aud attend the wedding revels.
I really.thing that bachelors1
'' Are the most miserable devil*! . ,
Tou'd batter go for some girl'* hand;
; An4.uVyo« are uncertain whether . _ —.
I Ton dare to moke a due demand, -> —'-.JE'JS.
TThy, Jatt try cooking pies together. ''-' ?.'••
• O T i i * T T C S U S A
« AW, ftg^ip%£i ;w,.
" In the steeples un; ^ ? ; l~• /
1
Jim gadi can go to church,' '
Baby is W s m a l l > r i : : '
* Wh»i osn Babydo" at home T
•** 1» It Wong; to play -
•. As on every day ?
''May sh'e'have-her dolly, ;
Cradle, and all that 1
And the Noah's Ark, Mamma, •
And the squeaky cat?
" Bnt I though t the 'man'dinent
Bald,. No play must he. "'"' .
Doesn't that mean little1 girls—
Only boys, like me>"
- **;. * '* •
" Listen, little questioner 1
Po yon hear the birds
Singing hymns in all the trees,
Without any words ?
" Do yon see the lammlet,
How they frisk and run t
And the dear Lord of ns all
Made them, every one,
'Made onr little lamb, too,
With' her golden fleece;
And her music, like the bird's,
Full of merry peace.
" Made the small white feet to run,
Made the hands to play,
And the little busy brain,
Learning day by day.
"And her happy laughter,
Full of Joy and love,
Rises like a song to Him,
Where.He sits above.
"All the days are Els days ""
While there is no sin; ''
But when she grows older
Sundays will begin."
JTJHE.
UT ''JOEL BEICTOS.
Tsa bee Is atllt on the clover,
The butterfly algzags along;
Jiweet Maud, lu the lane with her lover,
- 2i trilling a passionate song. .
Itie humming-bird Jostles toe daisy;
The lily's white, opaline month
Is kissed by the freebooting, loay
Marauder—the Wind of the South.
' Andonee again a Are ofholl
•The sky bends its enp to the mountains,
A goblet of marvelous blue;
the rainbow, from silver-edged fountains,
Shines out o'er the cascade anew.
The oriole sings with the pbebe,
The robin replies to his mate;
The humble-bee hurries—a Hebe
Encumbered with nectarous freight
Bweet Maud thinks 'twill always be summer!
Her partner Is equally sane;
And, fearing to meet some chance comer,
Close-locked, they glide oat of the lane.
0, sweet is the scent of the clover, •.
The year strikes its opulent noon;
Tet blot out but love and the lover,
;A- And where is the beauty of June ?
V o o a u B o B .
- Only to listen—listen a i d wait ' • . _ , , . . ' '•'
For hla alow, Arm step down the gravel watt ,
To hear the click click efble hand at tM • « • .
And feel every heart beat through careless talk :
Ah. love I* iweet when life is young I
And life and love are both to long.
Only to watch him about the room,
Lighting it up with hi* quiet smile,
That seems to lift the world out of gloom.
And bring heaven nearer me—for awhile, _ ,.
A little while—eince love 1* young,
And life la beautiful as long.
. Only to lovt him—nothing more ;
Never a thought of hi* loving me ;
Proud of him, glad of him, though be bore
My heart to shipwreck on 'his smooth set,
Love's faith sees only grief, not wrong,
And life it daring when 'tit young.
Aye me I what matter I The world goes round,
And bliss and bale are but outside things :
I never csn lose what in him I found,
Though love be sorrow with half-grown wings;
And If love flies when we are young,
Why, II fe is still not long—not long.
v. y.
And Heaven Is kind to tbe faithful heart;
And if we are patient, and brave, and calm,
Our fruita will last though our flowers depart ;
Some day, when I sleep with folded palm,
No longer fair, no longer young,
Life may not seem so bitter long.
• • • * e
The tear* dried up in her shining eye*,
H«r parted l'p* took a saintly peace:—
His shadow across the doorway lies;—
Will her doubt* gather, darken, or—cease I
—When hearts are pure,aud bold, and strong,'
True love aa life itself is long.
"ATJOXsXOF T H E C A M P . " - "
ST B1VARD T i r L O l .
"Give us a song 1" the soldiers cried,
The outer trenches guarding,
When the heated gun* of the camp allied
Grew weary of bombarding.
The dark Ite'lan, In silent scoff,
Lay. grim aud threatening under.
And the lawny mouth of tbe Malakoff
No longer belched Its thunder.
There was a pause. The guardman said ;
"We storm tho fort* to-morrow;
Sing while yiu may, another day
Will bring enough of sorrow."
They lay along the battery's side,
Below the smoking cannon-
Brave hearts from Severn and from Clyde,
And from the banks of Shannon.
They sang of love and not of fame-
Forgot was Britain's glory ;
Each heart recalleda different name,
But all sang—''Annie Laurie."
Voice nfter voice caught up 1 lie song.
Until Its tender poatlon
Rose like an anthem, rich and strong—
Their battle eve confession.
Dear girl—her name he dared not speak-
Yet, at the song grew louder,
Something upon tbe soldier's cheek
Washed oh* tho stains of powder.
a
Beyond the darkoning ocean burned
The bloody sunsets embers,
While the Crimean valleys learned
How English love remembers.
Rained on the Russian quarters,
With scream of shot and burst of shell,
A nd bellowing of the mortars.
And Irish Nora's eyee are dim,
For a singer, dumb and gory I
And Rnglish Mary mourns for him
Who sang of "Annie Laurie."
Ah I soldiers to your honored rest
Your truth and valor bearing,
The bravest are the tendereet—
The loving are the daring,
You ask me If I love you,
And I cannot answer, •' Yea I"
Though there's none I hold above you,
And my heart's in sore distress.
There are words one cannot utter.
And a "yes " is one of those I
Yet It Is not that I stutter,
Or spealc slightly through the nose.
1 can vow that I adore you.
With my truest, fondest breath:
But the lisp you've heard before Vnn
WU1 auow.canaaybnt •'Yeth'*
 I * Found a t last!" I madly (boated,, £ Gentle pieman yoa
, _ . astoundme."' ^ .. •" ' " » tf EtEODaBA'S KBPLY.
Then I .waved the turtle sonp enthusiastically round me.
£ ' l lku. : ' . BT W. 8, H U M Say not In deep dejection, ,
And I shouted and I danced until' he'd quite a crowd That thou canst but despair, • H
| around him— * • . - i Tie but thy food anection
....PART & . .'..'.""•'.'. A a d I rushed away exclaiming, "I bare found him! I ' Which deems me good and fair.
A T a pleagaDt evening party, I bad taken down-to rapper have found him!"- !7T,
One whom I will call ELVIRA, and w e talked of love and To u s th* earth's bright glory,
TUPFER. And I beard toe gentle- pieman l a the road behind me Th* glittering heavens above,
trilling, i , -- « . . i Man and bis wondrous story,
Mr. . TOPPER and the poets, very lightly with them " ' U r a l lirol' stop blm, M m feint 1 ' T r a l l a ! la!* the Are naught without thy lor*.
dealing, : •oup'* MbilUngl" I
f o r I've always been distinguished for a strong'poetlo
feeling. B u t until I reached ELVIRA'S house, I never, never Think not that I despise thee,
waited, Thy faithfulness decry,
T i e n we let off paper oraokers, each of which contained And ELVIRA to her FERDINAND 'S irrevocably mated. Oh I dearer far I prize thee
a motto, Than aught beneath th* sky.
And the listened while I read them, till bar mother told AN E M B L E M .
ber not to. 7st pause in indecision,
What ii ray IIilie sweetheart Ilk*, d'yon say Com* not too near I pray,
Then she whispered, " T o the ball-room w e bad better, A simple question, y«t l b hard to answer; Or tby fond fancy'.-t vision - - -.j
dear, be walking; Hut I will 1*11 yo.il Iiiraystammerlngway Will surely fade a«ay.
If we stop down here muob longer, really neoele will be The best I coo, sir. •
talking." * Th**, al I my fault* detected,
There were noblemen In coronet*, and military oonslns, When I was youag—that'* n*lth*r h«r» nor there— I sink in grief and shame-
There were captains by tho hundred, there were baronet* I read, and trading roads my eye-lid* (listen; Not what thy hope* expected,
. b y dozens. Hut I'll repeat the story, If yen car* Not what thy merits claim..
To stay and llet».,y . ».» .„ - , „ •• -1
Tet abo heeded not their offers, but dismissed them with . . .,. .. ~s a* sfs * * *r •#•. •* * •-* a •' Some fairer, wiser maiden
• blessing; A wild rose, born la * modest glen, Will charm thy wandering eye,
1
Then she let down all her back hair, wbloh had taken And sheltered by the leavoa of thorny boshM, Whilst I, with lorrew laden,
long lu dressing. Drooped, being commended lo tbe *JM of men, Must cast mo down and die.
Then she had convulsive sobbings In her agitated throttle, And died of blushes.
T K B B l b f l E S T PB1BT0B,
Then she wiped her pretty oyes, aim" smelt her pretty ... . t »l. •'/•
smelling bottle. Mow, if there were, and on* Buy wall suppoM ritoH THZ an>u* or JCSTIK* zsaxza. ••
Be I whispered, " S e a r ELVIRA, say—what oon the matter Tbero never was a flower of inch ran splendor,
be with yon. Much lees a rudely minuted wildllog'rose, • In the Emperor's hall at banquet
Doe* anything you've eaten, darling P o p s r , disagree Withal no louder— .y . ... la Worms, that goodly town,
with, you 1" lint lay there were; what is a rose the lets, — Bat many a mighty German prince
When all from uut to west tbo May 1* biasing, Of ram* and high renown. >••
Tben she smiled upon the carpet, a t the oeillng, then That any tuneful bard her face should miss,
above me, AM ('»• bar. praising I '•-•'•-.•.- And each one proudly boasted
And i b e whispered, " FEUDIKAMDO, do you really, reallu Yet say there did, and that bar heart did break, '•' Of his land, wealth and power,
As telle tbe romaDC* of my early reading, ' Of hi* fair dames and gall int knights, -
lore met" * Of every land the flower.
Tben 1 that fair, toad flower for emblem take— ••>..
" l o v e you t" said I, tben I sighed, and then I gazed upon
her sweetly— Sir, are you needing.'— - Then uprose » noble Saxod—
For I think I do this sort of thing particularly neatly— Aye, say then were, and tbat eh* ipant her day* ••. Of hi* country's wealth be told,
la Ignorant* of ber proud, poetic (lory; , Of mountain* lined with silver or*
"Send me to the Arctlo regions, or illimitable azure, Only hersoft death making to the praise And seamed with veins of gold;
Oa a scientific goose ohuse, with my Cox WELL or mr Of her brief story.
GLAISUKRI "Bee my land, in peace and plenty," .,
Xrea such a wild, bright flower, and 10 apart - Spoke the Palgrar* from tho Rhine,
" Tell me whither I may hie me, tell me, dear one, that I l a her low, modest bouse, my little maid Is— "In its valleys golden harvssta, " lv
may know, 3w**t-h*art*d, shy, and strange to all tbe art lu its vineyard* 'sparkling win*.'" •••I
l a it up the Algbest Andes I down a horrible volcano I" Of your In* ladle*.
i Butane said. "U isn't polar bears or hot volcanic grottoes. So tender, tbat to death she needs most griers, "Many a rich city ha* my land,"
Only find out who It Is that write* these lovely cracker Stabbed by the zlancea of bold *y», is certain;. Lewis oi Bavaria cried;
mottoes." Take you ibe emblem, than, and giv* me l**v* "It 1* rich in wealthy duster*
P A R T II. To drop "the cVrtal a. * ~~g T ** •-»••»--»« And great in power and arid*."
" T e l l m e H E i n i r WADSWORTU, A L F R E D , P o e t CLOSE, or Then Wuttamburg's loved prince arose,
Ulster TorPBR, H I B C H I G N O N O N U T 'SHOTJXDEB.
And stroked hi* flowing board,
S o you write the bon-bon mottoes tor ELVIRA palls at One dark end dreary winter day, ' - And looked on all the noble throng
sappert" When snow-drifts wer* fastly melting, As non* sivs (lod ho feared;
B u t H E N R T WADSWORTH smiled, and said he bad not And 'gainst the window's dewy pane
hod that honor: The soowy flakes were pelting. ; "My land bas no rich cities, I
And ALFRED, too, disclaimed the word* that told so much Beoesth the bright gal' genial blue, No aiauatalo* rsined with, gold, _
upon ber. As outer blasts grow colder, °~ And yet it holds a treasure.
I was seated by my Maggie's sid*. Whose wealth can ne'*r be told.
MUter MARTIN T o r r e n , Poet CLOSE, I beg of y o u In- With her eAignon on my shoulder.
form ua;" In its dark and gloomy forests,
B u t my question seemed to throw thorn both into a rage I headed not the storm without— Or where it* mountains frown,
J enormous. Within he sun was shining ; I can risk my deanet treasure,
Th* eland* of lira wer* lifted, then Or trait my lift and crown.
' Mister CLOSE expressed a wish that be could only get l e j f thai silser limnK ;
anlzb to me, And a* my darling sweetly smiled. Mr wealth Is In th* loyal hearts,
And Ulster MARTIN TOPPER sent the following reply to My throbbing kuart grew bolder, Which can ne'er be bought or so'.d,
me ;— I dreamed, a* I bad uerer dreamed, i My power is in th* trusty swords,
m
A fool I* bent upon a twig, but wise men dread a ban- - With Utrehifnon on my shoulder. And not in paltry (old."
dit," I dreamed of riches and of fans*
Which, I know, was very clever; but I didn't understand Then cried they all together:
Acquired by honest labor; i "Your wealth is far abov*
it* A name to live when I am gone, Our richest land or proudest boast—
Beven weary years I wandered—Patagonia, China, Nor- And wraith to help my neighbor ; You bar* your country* lor*."
I dreamed, too, of a happy iiuuie, .,¥v«
way,
Till at laxt I sank exhausted at a pastry-cook his door- Where growioz old and oluer, mosa.
way. Her Hill* hand clasped close In mine,
Her cAi'gxen on my shoalder. s r OSTIUM s i e t i i .
There wcro fuchsias and geraniums, and daffodils and
s myrtle.
Bo I entered, and I ordered half a basin of mock turtle.
Tbe tide of years wilt bear us on;
Our paths are nndirarging;
No frosts of tins* can blast the bad,
How many thoughts I give thee I
Gome hither on tho grail,
And If thoul't ceunt unfailing
j H e was plump and he wo* chubby, he was smooth and Nor frees* the lor* that'* surging; The green blade* ai We pasi,
!i he was rosy, And uol until each heart-throb cease. Or th* leaves that ligh and tremble
j And his llttlo wife was pretty, and particularly cosy. And dust to'dust shall m.dilsr, To lb* sweet wind of th* west,

( And he chirped and sang, and skipped about, and laughed

with luughtor h e a r t y -
H e was wonderfully active for so very stout a party.
Will I forget the blissful time
liar -SJT-HB nrasassj SIT shoulder.
A G E M BY i J J O B N B O N . '
. .

,
Or lha ripple* of the river,
Or th* sunbeam on Its breast,
I'll count the thought! I give the*,
My beautiful, my best.
And I said, " 0 , gentle pieman, why so very, very merrv t The tree's early leaf-bad* wore bursting their brown;
Is it purity of conscience, or your une-iind-1 wen ty sherryt "Shall I take them away I" said the frost, sweeping : Bow many Joyi I owe thee !
down. I Cone sit where seas run high,
B u t be answered, " I'm so happy—no profession oould be "No'; l*ar* than slons And count the halving billows
dearer— .. Till th« berries *r* grown," .. I That break on the shore and die—
I f l a m not humming "Tra! la I l a ! ' I'm singing 'Tirer, frayed th* Tree, while he trembled from rootlet to Or th* grain* of sand they fondl*,
lirerl' crown. i When th* itormi are overblown,
Or th* pearls In th* deep-ie* csrerns,
"First I go nnd make tbo patties, and the puddings and The Tree bore blsbfosaoms, and all th* birds snng: Or th* stars In lb* milky son*,
tbe Jellies, "Shall I take them away?".(aid the Mind, as he And I'll count the Joys I owe the*,
Then I muke a sugar birdcage, which upon a table swell swung. ' My beautiful, my own.
- 1*! t "No; loar* them alone
"Then r polish all the sliver, which a supper-table lac- Till the berries hare grown,'" And how ranch lor* I proffer I
quers; Said th* Tree, while Its leaflets quivering hung. Com* scoop th* ooean dry,
i Then I write the pretty mottoes whlob you And inside Or weigh In thy tiny balance
tbe cracker*"— Th* tree bore his fruit in th* midsummer glew ; Th* star-ships of th* sky ;
Said th* girl, "May I gather, the berries or no I" Or twin* around tby flngen
""""^7','P^PV-" '-' :•'.":' "»s•-. '*"*** J"Yes; all thou canst see
Take ibem all; all tor thee,"
Th* sunlight streaming wide,
Or f*ld It In thy bosom,
Bald th* Tree, while be bent down, hi* laden bough* | While the world Is dirk beside ;
low. i And I'll tell how much I lore the*,
—JVswi >trn«. a tale of JWswgsan lift,by Bjonuon. J My beautiful, my bride I Jzx •ti*JLY
WOESSTOMTHB BATTLE-FIELD.
8 M m i n to the early dawn,
A ^ r t S ^ n d .ilently she moved
About the boue*. Four men had gone
To battle for the land they tared,
And aha, the mother and the wife,
Watted for tiding* from the strife;
How »tlll the hooae seemed! and her tread
Sounded like footatepe of the dead.
The long day paeted; the dark night came;
She had not aeen a human face;
Some vote* apoke suddenly her n a m e -
How load it sounded In that place,
Where day on day no sound wa* heard
But her own footstep* I " Bring you word ?"
She cried, to whom aha could not tee—
"Word from the battle-plains to met"
A soldier entered at the door,
And stood within the dim fire-light.
"I bring yon tiding* of the fonr,"
He aald, "who left you for the fight"
" God bleat yon, friend," she cried, " speak on I
For I can bear it: one la gone?"
"Ay, one la gone," he aald. "Which one?"
"Dear lady, he—your eldest eon."
A deathly pallor shot across
Ear withered face. She did not weep.
She aald, "It la a grievous loaa.
Bat God give* Hi* beloved sleep.
What of the living—of the three—
And when can they come back to met"
The soldier tamed away his head:
" Lady, your husband, too, 1* dead."
She pat her hand anon her brow;
A wild, sharp pain waa in her eye*:
" My hoaband 1 ob> God help me now'."
The soldier shivered at her sigh*;
The teak waa harder than he thought.
" Tour youngest son, dear madam, fought
Close at hia father4* tide; both fell
Dead by the bunting of a shell."
She moved her lips, and seemed to moan;
Her face had paled to ashen gray.
"Then one la left me—one alone,"
She aald, "of four who marched away.
Oh I overruling, all-wise God,
How eon I pass beneath Thy rod!"
The soldier walked across the door.
Paused at th* window, at the door-
Wiped the cold dew-drops from his cheek,
And sought the mourner's aide again.
"Once more, dear lady, I must speak:
Thla last remaining son waa slain
Just at the closing of the fight;
Twaa be who aent me here to-night"
"God know*," the man said afterward,
"The tight itself waa not so hard."
OlUNDilOTUMll.
J u t a* the sun rote blushing red
Over the bill top*, somebody said.
In broken acceuu of mourning woe.
bobbing aloud, but toublug low:
"Grandmother ia dead!"
When the sorrowful murmur broke,
Out from our beautilul dreams we wake,
Fee:ing * tenee of terrible low;
"She waa gold, reuoed from its dross,"
So somebody spoke.
Just a* abe sometimes tat In ber chair.
Lining ber heart In silent prayer.
Looked the; only a purple mist
Bar drooping llda sua loin lips kUsed,
Ana retted there.
Only yesterday, bow aha planned
Labor* of love for ber aged band;
" Whenever my utelnl days are o'er,
Let me (0 to the heavenly store,"
-Was ber demand.
Dear old grandmother! Hew her prayer
Quickened the tar of Eternal care!
And, with only a warning pain.
Els angel gatbeiad her aoul train
To those legion? lair.
Bleated 1* It for her to a'.eep ;
Can It be wring for oa to weep f—
W* who loved uar to well snd know
All the worth of ber loving, too,
And bar wisdom deep.
She was aged ard knew the way
Toothful leet wt re inclined to stray:
" The young are giddy, and they moat learn
01 bard experience era they torn,"
She would gently say.
Happy grandmother! Would that we
Sfurtt share with you the myatory
or that Beyond, where a thought or tin
Merer, oh I never can enter In
Tnrough eternity.
• VgSsfin? . |>(I - - -••• •"••• ^a
THE PUREST PEARL.
[The following translation from the German, and
oalled "The Purest P e a r l , " la a gam of poetry,
which, aet In our English, sbinea with a erentle
radiance that will attract th* admiring attention of
every reader:]
Beside the church door, a-weary and lone,
A blind woman *at on the cold door (tone;
The wind waa bitter, the anow fell fast,
And a mooklng voice In the fitful blaat
Seemed ever to echo her moaning cry,
At aha bagged ber alma of the passers-by:
"Hare pity on me, bare pity, I pray;
My back la bent and my bair la gray*.''
The bell* were ringing the hour of prayer,
And many good people were gathered there,
Bat covered with f u n and mantles warm.
They harried p u t through th* wintry storm.
Some were hoping their souls to save,
And tome were thinking of death and the grave,
And,' alas! they bad no time to bead
Th* poor aoul asking for charity's meed.
And some were blooming with beauty's grace,
Bat closely muffled la veils of lace;
They taw not the sorrow, and heard not the moan,
Of her who aat on the cold door atone.
At last came one of a noble name,
By the city counted the wealthiest dame,
And the pearls that o'er her neck were strung
She proudly there to the beggar flung.
Then followed a maiden young and fair,
Adorned with clutera of golden hair;
But ber dress waa tbln, and scanty, and woin,
Not *ren the beggar seemed more lorlorn.
With a tearful look, and a pitying aigb,
She whispered soft, "No jewels hare I—
But I give you my prayers, good friend,'' aaid abe,'
" A n d surely 1 know God listens to m e . "
On the poor white band, ao shrunken and small,
The blind woman felt a tear drop fall.
Then kissed it and aald to the weeping girl,
"It ia you who bare giren the purest pearl.
~ ^MVxdriH-STriwixi-^*^
I T LIIOH HUltT.
Mary, detr Mary, 1 Istl Awake!
And now, Ilk* the moon, thy slumber* break.
There 1* not a taper and scarcely a sound
To be seen or be beard In the cottage* round;
The watch dog la silent, Ay father sleeps,
Bat lore, like the breeze, to tbr window oreepe;
The moooliabt seems litt'ning all over the land
To the n hitpera of angel* like tbee;
O lilt for a moment the aaah with thy hand,
And kiss bat that hand to me,
Mary-
0 kite but that band to me.
Gently awake and gently rise I
0 for a kiss to unclose tblne eveal
1 ho rapora of sleep should fly softly the while,
A i the breath on thy looking-glaa* breaks at thy
amile.
And rntn I would whisper thee nerer to fear,
For Hearen la all round thee when true lore's near;
Juat under the woodbine, dear Mary, i atand,
Slilt looking and listening for thee I
0 lift for a moment the aaah with thy baud.
And kiss but that hand to me.
Mary-
And lis* bat that hand to me.
Hark! Do I see thee? Tea, 'tis thou?
And now there's thy hand, and I bear tbee now!
Thou look'st like a rose In a crystal stream,
For thy face, lore, ia bathed In the moonlight gleam.
And ct aid my kisses like stream circles rite *
'Jo dip on Iby dimple* and tpreed round thine eyes!
And ohl to be lost on anight auob aa tbia
In tne arms cf an angel like tbee—
Nay, alar but a momeu", one moment of bliss,
And smlie but fbrglrcuee* to me I
Mary-
Ob, amile but forgireneaa to me.
Nobody, sweet, can hear our aigbal
Thy voice just comes on the sort air and dies.
Doat Ibou gate on the moon* I hare gax'd, aa I
rote,
Till I thought If haabrealh'd Heaven's bleating on
lore i
Till I're stretched oat my arm*, and my tears hare
begun,
And nature, and hearen, and thou eeem'd but one.
Adii it, my sweet Mary; the moon's in the west,
And tne leares thine with tear-drops like thee.
So draw In tby charm* aud betake thee to reat,
O thou dearer ikun life to me,
Mary—
i ' Thou dearer tbtn life to me.
MaUni , max,
I T H E I / A T I N G O F T H E A T L A N T I C OJ
BT BAXTH WALDO EafUMOU.
O. tenderly tke haughty Oar
Fills hU blue urn wlm ore I
One mora ia In tke mighty liearea,
And one In our desire.
The cannon booms from town to town,
Our pulaea are not lata i
The ioy-bell* chime the tldUr* down.
Which children's voloe* bias*.
For He who a pread yon broad blue fold,
O'er mantling land and Mat,
One third part of the thy unrolled,
Far the banner of the tree I
The men are ripe of Saxon kind
To build an equal State,
To take th* iterate from the mind.
And make of duty fate.
United State* I The Age* plead,
Pr'eteat and past, in undar-song,
Go. put your creed Into your deed,
Nor speak with double tongue I
For aea and lanS don't understand,
Nor ikies, without a frown,
See riant* for which the one band fights,
With the other oloren down I
Be just at home—then stretch beyond,
Tour sceptre o'er the sea.
And make the broad Atlantio pond,
A ferry of the free.
And henceforth there shall be no chain,
Sure underneath the aea,
The wire* shall whisper through the mala,
Sweet tonga of Liberty 1
M
.
The consolou* stars aooord abort,
The watera wild below,
And ceaseleea, throuaii the cable wore,
Her fiery errands go.
For He that worketh high and wise,
Nor pauses in His plan,
>\ HI take the tun oat of the skie», •
j:'re freedom out of n u n .
•fe'f-
.A-rriere Peusce.
He-wrapt PM round witli lilt rlt-ho*,
BV rover* inu up M 1th his cure,
And Ii.ls_|ovu it the lore of a iny
S^Wnoter llf« I* a living- BTnr»ry
I hare plighted tny woman's ulieclioni,
«5ft)»;,
I hare given my all In all, -
And the flowers ol n daily contentment
Renew their sweet lives ere I be V full.
And yet, like an instrument precious.
That p'ajrelh an nlden tunc,.
My heart Irr the midst of its bJesslngs,
. Goet.back to a dux in J.une—
.;*;.' -To adaJ. »'UBU beneutti tlit>.brancp.es
I ttood by t tileot stream,
And taw in It* bosom an image
Aa e>o* teeth a (ace In a dream.
I would uot resign his devotion-,
No, not for a Quart that lives
Nor change one jotTnr condition
Fur the change that condition gives;
I should mourn not more lor another,
Nor more for another rejoice,
Than now, wbep I weep at lilt absence,
Or welcome hit ttep and lilt voice,
And j e t like an instrument precious,
- r r Tbalpluveth an olden toue, - --- ;
. My heart, In tbn midst of Itt bloasings,
'' (Joes back to a day In June—
- To a day when beneath the branches t
t s t o o d In the shadowy light.
A n d beard the low word* of a whisper '
A* one heareth a rojee in tho night. L
GOOD-NIGHT
' A
Good nigh't—good-ulght !
Tht hour of parting brings the boar of dream* M
I Be thy sleep calm and deep,
A spell of down on silken eyelids laid ;
Bstw.eo our pillows distance only SMOIS,
m
And darkaet* I* ** * trauipartut shade,
And sweetest tpteche* silence* inclose.
• .••
Like rose*' perfume folded in the rose—
0 rowing intent* at slltnco deeper grows: £$
Good-night I .r -.Jy
f
Good-night—good-night!
i i
These parting words are but a tender cheat: r. m
For still wt know that wuetber we may go
Beyond arm's reach, or wide as worlds apart,
i Tagsthtr w* shall ihrob at tech beart-t>*al;
Thrilled by the same electric dart,
Shot from tbe aroa-gud's arched bow,
; Through either botom'a wall of snow- • <•*•*
Forever and fortvtr be It to!
Good-night!
—OverUtiul Monthly.
^ M £ I ^ •M.*kA.-Js-: SL*
- U - ~ — . . . .....

JACKY'S SOCK AND JENNIES STOCKING.
BV HELEN STANNAKI).
'Twos Christmas eve—and from .1 chair
Near which sat mamma softly rocking ;
Suspended hung, ill-mated pair,
Dear Jacky's sock—and Jennie's stocking.
The wee sma' sock, home-made and gray,
Was suited to the sturdy boot.
Which kept the winter's storms at bay,
And safely housed the dimpled foot.
The lassie's stocking, fine and uew,
Came o'er the waves from sunny France ;—
Around the stripes of varied hue
A prisoned rainbow seemed to dance.
The mother gazes at the twain.
As she still sits there softly rocking—
A mist of tears, like summer rain,
Hides Jacky's sock—and Jennie's stocking,
" Oh, Father dear!" she softly prays,
" My darling children's teet e'er guide.
Oh 1 lead them through the pleasant ways,
And keep them evtr near thy side."
Another :>**•• y«r, .ia t'tr\«:iit qifhe,
Was wafted from the little bed.
Where, side bv side, that self-same night.
With folded hands and upraised head,
The children asked their Dearest Friend,
(While 'neath their room mamma was rocking,)
"Dear Jesus! please Kriss Kringle send,
To till up both our sock and stocking."
As if in answer to their prayer.
Mamma has ceased her steady rocking.
And lo! what curious chauges are
In Jacky's sock—and Jennie's stocking.
From top to toe they're both swelled out
With queer-shaped bunches, odd aBd funny,
They surely cannot hold the jout—
It must be bon-bons sweet as honey.
The tiny sock, so short and small,
Is queerly pieced out from the toe,
Below which swings a rubber ball,
And top that's warranted to go.
Above the let; a whip .sticks out—
A woolly dog looks calmly down,
Conjecturing what it's all about,
And whether lie should bark or frown.
From out the stocking'i top—see ! peep
That joyous, beaming little lace—
A lovely doll ! whose ringlets '-weep
l-'.ir downward, with unconscious grace.
She's t'enced around with little toys,
Thai glance out here and there—
Cay tokens nf the Christmas Joys
Which good old Santa Clans doth hear.
The mother .-MIS .main to think—
Once more the chair is gently rocking—
The dog^nd dolly seem to wink
Cross Jacky's sock and Jennie's stocking.
MAY BE.
A tangled miui of wet brown hair,
C.irented it—
Thy fact* so sweet with eiuiles so rare,
I'm iurr 't would drive away a.11 care,
/'d give the world if I poeseesed i t -
May be r
. Thine eyee! are archer* shooting tore,
All 'round thee—
I would 1 were the banted dove,
Who in their range should fly above.
For F could wliU m c b arrows wound mo—
May bo?
Thy lips ! a bud, an opening flower,
• Full and sweet—
Were I a dew-drop, and mv bower
It- trembling leaves,—the hour
I lived, were bliss itself in that retreat—
May b e !
'Chore may be others with thy f a c e -
In Heaven!
But could an angel with such grace,
A naud iu miuo so anttly place.
As thou, mid low, sweat auawer g i v e n -
May be 7
0VB3 THB WAY.
Cone In her childish purity,
Out from the golden day;
Fading nway in tho light 90 sweet,
Where the silver ttarg and the sunbeams meet
Paring a path for her waxen feet,
O'er the silent way.
Over her bo«om tenderly
Tho pearl white hands are pressed;
The lashes lie on her cheek so Ibin— , He turns to me his tiny face,
Where the softest blush of the rose hatb been—]
Shutting the blue of her eyes within
The pure lids closed in rest.
Over the sweet brow lovingly
Twineth ber sunny hair;
She wss so fragile that Love sent down—
From his heavenly gems—that soft bright
crown, . .
To shade ber brow with its waves so brown,
Light as the dimpling air.
Gone to sleep, with the tender smile
Froze on her silent lips
By the farewell kits of hei'riWy broath,
Cold In the clasp of the angel Death—
Like the last fair bud of a fading wreath,
Whose bloom tho white frost nips.
Bobin—hushed in your downy bed
Over tho swinging bough—
Do you miss her voice from your glad duet,
When the dew in the heart of the rose in set,
Till its velvet lips with the essence wet
In orient crimson glow ?
Rosebud—under your shady leaf
Hid from the sunny day—
Do you miss the glance of the eye so bright,
Whose blue was heaven in your timid sight ?
It is beaming now in the world of light,
Over the starry way.
Hearts—where the darling's head bath
lain,
Held by loves shining ray—
Do you kuow mat the touch of her gentle hand]
Doth brighten the karp in the 111.known land r
Ob, she wails for us with tho angel band,
Over the starry way.
WINTER.
The Winter's wreath has charms for me;
The barren heath, the leafless tree,
The holly hedge, the purpling rill,
Retain a pledge of nature still.
The fir, the laurel, box and yew,
Give freshness to the wintry view.
There the brown mead, the swollen mere.
The rime-bespangled forest here.
Declare tho wondrous Artlst-liand
Which all this varied scene has planned.
Look on the crown of silvery snow
That rests for aye on yon monntain's brow,
While streams glide down to tho valley beneath,
Waters of life from the springs of death I
When ni/ head, like his, Is withered and boar.
May my heart its fountains of love still pour I
And see the mantle of white that is spread
O'er the stiffened earth, like a sheet o'er the dead,
Now tho golden days of Autumn bsve tied.
The Frost-king binds with ley chain;
Bnt Spring comes, queen-like, crowDed with flowers
And the tyrant yields to her gentle reign,
And melts at her feet into penitont showers;
And fair Nature, released from her prisoning tomb,
Comes wreathed divinely with odorous bloom I
Thus the shrond shall change its sad glimmer of white
For the rainbow hues of celestial light,
A garment meet for the honored guest
Whom the Master shall bid to His wedding feast! '
HU.UE.
Homo's not merely four square walls,
Though hung with p i c t u r e nicely gilded,
Heme U where affection cull*,
Filled with shrines tho heart hah t bnilded.
Homo! go watch the faithful dove,
Sailing 'Death the bouvoii ahove us ;
Homo is where [hero's one to love—
Hump is where there's one to lore us.
Home's not merely roof aud room—
Home neeils euiuorltiiig to endear i t ;
Home In whero tho heart can blouni;
Where there's <oni«'kit>d lip to cheer it;
What is home with none to meet,
Nuoo te welcome, nolle to grco: us f j
Home is sweet, and only sweet.
Where there's otto wo love, to moot us.
ftp
MY LITTLE BOY.
BT iLFUED BOU.T.
I HAVB a little boy at home,
A little soul from heaven come •
On this green earth a while to roam—
My little uoy.
His little arms my neck embrace, /
And kisses me with angel grace—
My little boy.
I know not what his life may be—
Of joy, or peace, or misery;
But all the world he is to me—
My little boy.
I watch him crooning on my arm,
And sigh for power or magic charm
i To shield his life from UVand harm—
My little boy.
My very manhood, rough and Bold,
Is shadowed with a grace untold
Within this tender, fragile mould—
This little boy.
My soul speaks out a nobler song,
I see more clear the right from wrong,
As on his grace I ponder- long—
This little boy.
So like the awe, the nameless dread,
We feel in presence of the dead,
(The sonl to Heaven eo lately fled)—
Oh, little boy I
Doth seem the mystery that lie*
Beneath the depths of thy blue eyes—
Thy soul so fresh from Paradise!
My UtUe boy.
THE AWAITING.
P o I not bear the y a t e turning?
H a s it. the l a t c h that then feltv
N o ! t b e s e t r t y r murmurs vearntng
Through tbis quiet poplar d e l l .
S i l e n c e ! th» h e d g e - r o w was parted,
R u s t l i n g while o n e thr.utrti it c r e p t .
N«l a frightened bird then tWrred
F r o m the c o p e e , and o n w a r d s w e p t .
A voice with the still air i,t b l e n d i n g ,
Softlv. In uhispr-ra lono?
N o ! th*1 cirrlin ( sw-'n iaser-ding
R i p p l e ' s o ' e r iue stiver p o n d .
H e a r T u o t f e n I'abriv m o v i n g .
O v e r l r H - g r s v o ' - S ' r c w n path? .*'
N n | the fall int.' fruit is proving
Ripeness rom the w e i g h t it h a t h .
D o I not p»e a white s h i m m ' r m g ,
S h i n m e w i t h ailfcr, 8 | , c f n v f;1 IJ
N I Ihe Dillar there •sglimm'rlxfr
'Gainst the s h a d o w e d ye wen w a l l . '
A r d soft, wht'e from hparon'v t-learnes' . j ''
T h e iTf-mews all h n p n y d c e e n r i ,
Nigh sho oiime, u r s e ' n |N h e r n e s r n ' s s ,
A n d w s k f r r e d w U h k i s s ' S her frie.id. )
OOOD NIGHT.
0, sweet my lore, tho hour la late
The moon goes down in silver state, '
As here alone I watch and wait
Though far from thee, my lips reoeat
In whispers low, flood night, my'ewoet.
The house Is still, but o'er tho gloom
Of star-lit gardens, faint with bloom,
I lean out from my darkened room,
And only hear the rooming breeze
Move soltly in tho lilac trees.
Somowhere benoatb tho gracious skies
My bonny love a dreaming lies,
With summer brooding In her eyes, &s
(Jo seek her, happy wind so free,
And kiss her foldod hands ror uiv.
Across this dome of sllont air,
for.
On tie- of floating ether bear
T0
Th.' 1 dIty hka" 'J" 1
"'J"* w » i s p e r . d prayer;
S 3 ,T ? b r "»gbt the night f o r l o r u -
Ood keep thee, little dore, till dawn.
 h: THE CHTLDEEF8 PASTY.
An' what are ye doin' wid Pat's ragged hat,
Yeraelf all a-bhivcr an' yer hands all so
JJf EVERY DJLT 80NQ.
<g>
NO. a red?" BT io»XTUitt roixi.sn.
"Ocb, mother, say nivcr a word till Vm
XOUNO Fat Malone and ills sister Kate through, Every day brings its work;
A grand entertainment decided to give. And sec what u grand, lovely sight I shall Every day brings its sorrow ;
Be pUoocd.it all out of hit frowsy pate, make; Trouble and toil to-day.
Trouble and toll to-morrow.
And tent for the friends that nearest did lire: For the hat on a platter, wid an icicle through,
Bed-headed Fete and his Cousin Jane, An' frosted wid snow, will make triddin' Ever from early morn,
Teddy and Toro and Nelly Gray; cake. Unto the day's declining,
Dlek with his freckles and Biddy Lane Bhure, I saw one no better in a winder up- Sorrow will east its cloud,
Bight where the sun was shining.
Were to be there at four the very next day; town.
For Kate and Toting Fat were master bands Thinks I to meself, I can take Pat's ould bat Every day 'tis the same,
1
, ToOTrprUeJherabble of Ragged Row—. And frost it sll over the rim and the crown— Waking, working, and sleeping)
Wld snow and wld ice make it finer 'an that Every day 'tis the same,
They bad wonderful dreams of fairy lands, Watching, waiting, and weeping!
And could toll of all tbey chanced to know. I'll kapc it out bore in the could till tbey
From beds of straw at break of day come; Every day is our sky
And then it won't melt, yc know, mother Hope is still brightly shining I
They were up, with many a knowing look, Leading us over the rocks,
And bade good-bye in a jolly way dear."
" Whist, Kitty, my darlint; come In an'git Lifting ns out of repining.
To the mother, who ironed for Mrs. Cook.
" Now, Patrick, he good the blessed dny, warm. Every day in the strife
And Uk' fine care o' yer sister Kate, I'll langh till I die, the child is so queer." Many a soul engages;
Wbin I git home, ve'll have ycr piny, . Tbey were ready at four, with their party so Every day brings its work,
grand; And every day brings its wagon.
An' shore I'll thry not be very late.
Ate yer pertater and swape the room, The guests were in time, expectant and gay; Every step that we take,
Kape yourselves lookin' nate an' clane, And you may be sure in all our broad land Nearer the end is bringing;
An' stay in-doors till I'm name at noon, No children were brighter or happier than' Yet every day of onr lives.
Nor be after playin' with the byes in the they. We go mourning—instead of singing.
lane." A SIMPLE TALE. "JIMV~
Then, with a gnod-naturcd shake of her head,
He loved her lo::g through g~icf and pain THB MlsVOMU MINEB AND IIIS IX>ST CIITJM-
She turned away from the cellar-door,
As long sLc love J another.
While Kaly smoothed over the tumbled bed Life was to hi u i c. u?!l domain; BAT there! P'raps
And Pat used the stump of a broom on the Botne ou you chaps
He was to her » brother. Might know Jim Wild I
floor. Well—no offense*:
" Now, Kitty, my darlint, you git the whole When w;ll of love l.e '.uged and spake, Thar ain't no sense
'iears on L c oyc'ids glistened ; In git tin' rliedl
sheet,
And out of this baril a table I'll make. The hear, his wooing Strove to wake- Jim was my chum
Upon (ho Bar I
We'll kiver it over so white an' so neat; Forsook hirn w.ii;o sue listened. That's why I tome
Whilst the mither's away swatc comfort Down from up yar,
Thus in a muiual Iwc-fold search Lookin' for Jim. ,
we'll take. Each dec, e.- led the other; Thank ye, sir! Ton
I'll put in the middle a brave chandelier, Sue was his wealth, his law, iiis church ; Ain't of that crew—
Blest 11 you aro I
Hade from a titer wld a match in the end; He was to her a brother.
An' them bits o' tin we got from the pier Money t—not muoh;
God took him in his early years, ' That ain't my kind;
Will to our feast a brave glamor leud. I ain't no such.
Ere half his yiuth had (lowered. Rami—I aon't mind, «l--.sv
This plate shall be Biddy's, because 'tis .the Beein' it's you. * * -*
best, Then she beheld him through her tears
WitU the heart's saints embowered. Well, this yer Jim,
And she's like the sun, wid her laugh all the Did you know hips 1—
day; Time on her heart's high daring smiled, Jess 'bout your size;
And little I care what becomes of the rest, Batne kind of eyes!—
And blooming bridal made hor, Well, that Is strange;
For they're neither fair at work or at play. And, clinging to a throe-hours' child, Why, It's two year
And Kitty, my darlint, you'll sit like a queeh Binoe he earae here,
In the low furrow laid hor. Biok, lor a change.
At the head of the table to serve out the
But to my sight doth crowned appear Well, here's to us I
feast— Eh!
Each faithful, fond endeavor ; The h—you sayl
The purtiest hostess that I've ever seen;
Balph called her his one happy year, Deadl-
They'll all say that same, from biggest to That little cusst -
And Herbert his forovor.
least. F:om Mrs. How's " Later Lyrics." What makes you star—
And here is the orange-peel, gathered the day You. over (bar I
We walked in tlicpnrk, sofineand so grand; Mine. ~~ Cant a man drop
'a glass In yer shop
We'll have it forswatemates now in our play. EI 0 1 0 . HOWUNt. But, you must rat*I :
Be jabers, 'twill be the best feast in the It wouldn't take
The sun his beams noun freely down 1) muoh to break
land." . On hill aid valley,fieldand tows; You and~youx bar.
Thus talking and planning, the morning slid Bnt there'! one kindlv little ray. Dead I
on; Thar through my lattice loves to itray. Poor—little—Jim I
The mother was back from her work by In gardenlfilledwith fragrant Holers —Why thar was me,
W» wander through the shady bowWa; Jones aud Boh Lee,
mid-day, But one tweet blouom in the grass, .' Harry aud Ben—
With a basket of fragments the table upon Look! softly at me u I pan. f< No-aocount men t
Then to take him!
And her hardly-earned wages stored snugly The gushing clouds distill their rain
away. To gladden many a thirsty plain; Well, thar—Good-by—
But 'neath t be tiny leaf concealed, No more, sir—I— * *'
" Arroh, now, is yer party most ready,my Pat ? One smiling drop lies half revealed. Eh1
Well, open the basket and see what is there. What's that yon say 1—
Tbe woods and groves resound with notes Why. dern it I—shol—
I tould Mrs. Cook just what we were at. That warble from melodious throats; Not Yea! ByJol •A
And she stuffed it all full of things nice an' But one sweet songster folds his wings, Sold!
And close beneath say window sings. ' *T * , Bold I Why, you limb,
rare: You ornery,
Chicken bones, wld a plinty of mate stickin'
on;
Cookies, nice whole ones, and not very ould,
Fame often spreads her wings to soar
In noisyflight,the wide world o'er;
But glidty tarns tbe listening ear,
One joftly whispered word to hear.
.
Deru'd old •
LouB-leitKcd JimIrr _ _
CAPITAL PTJ*riSHMENT7~
i
3
Old Master Brownbrought his fenili, down
An' an apple apiece—them's given by John, That kindly ray for me Itill shine ; His face was angry and red ;
Her son, a fine bye, so brave an' so bould. That look,, that smile, that tone be mine; "Anthony Blair go ait you there.
By that one word let me be blest, Among the girls," he said.
Now, Kitty, come here. What would ye be at, And let who will take all tbe rest.
A freeziu' to death, out in the ould shed f So Anthony Blah-, with a mortified air,

k
And his head bung down on bu breast,
Went right away aud sat all day
By ths girl who loved him best.
JO* ,- -•• ' 'i'"'," '** • ' r • sn-r?" -•• .til
f
„ „ _ . S..U'.—