1776 Scrap Book

001

iiJfe < & Jno. A. Murtin, of tho Atolii-' •on Champion, was married on the 1st inst., to Miss Ma Cpliilin, oldost _ . brids's y u n t i , b / R e r . K. O o a , CoL Jno. A, Mortis, sdito'r ef thli daughtor of Dr. Win. Aj Ciiullis, of Paper, to Misa Ida, aldest deugktsr of Dr. Alobison. Wo oati'l do lliu sell ject Was. L Cballiss, all of tbla city. justice, so copy what tho LeavenKo Sards. worth Cull says about tho affair: Th'ere is no man In Kansas in whose^'-^ "A printer coplurod by u guitar—a [welfare we have a deeper interest than •oldior surroudom at tho bock of u it rcquirna a great deal of nerve upon JthaVpf our namesake at Atchison, Col. ohignon—gone to grass l>y tho witVt) lbs part ol n July to stsnd up, and pro[ Joair A. MARTIN, editor of the Atchison uiac lieluio limveo, that abu will of a fan—"rattlod" by n frill—"lockChampion. It is, therolbro. with no orlove, honor, obey and live with an eded up" without mullet or quoin—and dlnary pleasure that wo welcome him to itor, hut lovu burmouuls all ohaiacles. we hopo, without pie or t-rjuubhlo in | the matrimonial ranks. His friends have It ia iiiideratood that the Colonol r been anticipating this slop for some time, h tbe distant iilturo, thus may thosu A wosd a long while, hut the prirc, how''* and his editorial and typographical breth"forms" pass into tbo realm of the ever, waa worth contending for. Ths ren are showering congratulations upon * Great Master Typo of tbo Universe. | j ^ bride is the eldest daughter of Dr. Win. him, which, in quantity and quality, j Challiis, of Atchison, sod Is a young must be pleasant in the extreme. The Tbus, as Miles O'Bilov hnlh said: S| E g lady gifted with personal bescty.endow Colonel stand* In the front as an editor, "They loll, my friend, the young, the 13 sd with rare culture and social accom« and as a public man, whose services have proud, proud, pllabmsDtr, end just tho person to e n - j been great and appreciated, while his soTho gny, tho festive cusses full— liven an editor In limes of depression. cial qualities but add strength to his A D orange wreath, liuioud of iiiroud, WealMtt—PMte b i M . ^ » H A s H e g — m claims. He was married on the first of % A ring in lieu of m I mi If hall. d«sigJM>ass4rr|rtbn mldaaasffier weaki June to Miss IDA CHAI.LIH, daughter of I The man who fucud u battle's roar K *&Jl^MVtUm,~<}ak0m. They Dr. W D . L. Challls, of that city. We ore Now yields to ruffled cheiniacitvs, 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 Souio twilled, frilled pair ofnauiulcitcs." \ rlobeat experiences of married life ohar- \> ! aoterlto this union "~

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' T h e gallant Colonel JOBN A . M I H TIN, editor of tho Atchison Champion, bss crowned bis hillliaut record with another victory; this tioie s lore conquest. Alter a loin- and admirably concluded siege, the fair Mira IDA GHAI.MSS pt AtcbUon. lurrendera unconditionally, and promises to love, honor und obey—an editor,

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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 housebold with the same kindness and fonbearanoe that he govorned his regiment, £ • will give satisfaction. May happiness and prosperity attend him though

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." <

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*

all time. ~£r

Col., Wt'.Jtivii yinijiiy.

Didn't we^ueisit—

utuioHt knnw It—during Hint Im.JI ride to the

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.. 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 Atchison. Wo horoby tondor tho Colonol |? and his fair brido onr oongrntulations, and wish tlidm ft perpotual honeymoon. Tho Colonol has always beon what tbo boys call "a lucky ouss," yet wo have no hesitation in saying that his wodding so accomplished a young — 1 __0CCur' pneo in bis life

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Tux Atehinon Champion is one of the oldest paper* In the State, 'and luw alwaya appeared upon our table with creditable regularity—until Thursday last. We didn't get any then, and were kept in total ignorance of the reason therefor until yesterday, when we found out all about it as follows: On Thursday. June 1, 1871, at the realdeuce 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 - "fe Just openingjnaxj>ever be hope clouded.

ltoeky Mountains la.-l I'aU'f Huft rvrsand U> Wllelllllg KllllltW tnld tales. John. Your eyes were nut always luivullni for bullal" when astray 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
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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 amiable wife, a happy journey along the path 1 M 1 < < * * ' of Ji(e.^-f * «^**** "^ .--OT*»*S«!W 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 mailefror quoin—and, we hope, without 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 :

&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 his fair young.bride. •vSi**"

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'-!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. 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 following, 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 happily terminated by another and more permanent "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 occar •, 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 approv a l - o f the parents, .and with the good fA wishes of nearly the entire population of [Kansas. _____^_^^___

/ZTUE gtiUaut and

John A. Martin, of the jfe; Col. Atchison Champion, has taken a -:t; partner for h f e , M U S . I ^ C h a l l i S S - * V

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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 capture, h i s friends- anticipate that ere the close of the honeymoon, he will be able to drill in the ranks of the grand army of benedicts according to the most approved rules of discipline, without any inconvenience whatever. Thus, as Miles O'Kiley hath ...:,... . »..**» s a i d : "They fall, mjrfriend, the young, tbe proud, Th« gay, the faaUva c m i u fail— An orange wreath, iaitead of lorond, —Co). John A. Martin, of tho A ring tn lieu of mlnnie ball. • Atchison Champion, has taken a The man who faced a kattle'i roar a&jSlAwP Now ylelde to ruffled chomuetu, partner for life. Miss Ida C^alluss, of And lion hearti bow down before J Soma twilled, frilled pair of pantalettea."

COL. JOHN A. MARTIN, Editor of, the Atchison Champion, was married on the 1st iost., to Miss IDA, daughter of Dr. WM. CUALMS, of that city. We congratulate our old friend in the step he has taken and wish him F=V-S sod his wife many ion health and bappinjes|^;.ji

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E D . - O n Thursday, June 1st, 1ST1, . 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 y 1 l Atchison. No cards. ^ „ , lauai'ii"

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fearless editor of the Atchison Champion, Col. John A. Martin, was married to Jliss Id.a Challiss, daughter of Dr. Wm. L. Challiss, on the 1st instant. We extend to the happy couple our hearty congratulations, and hope that their path through r ,strcwu with flovv-ers,^bj-ight, " ^ I life may bc^stn ( 4 ' t f

of that

. H o w - m i l PaiMTtRSDOTALC ABOC1

MATBIMOSY OF OUR EiOTOB^-Our-; readers know that the Editor has committed iriatiimony. 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. CTiiUk«jVje!<1 ocjI, John is a modest man. It's taken him a long time to get married, and ho was jined right easy. But it's got out, and the printers .congratulate him We know h e will appreciateCOL J O H N A. MABTIN, of the ,te right jollily. the good things .-the -papers say' -about Atchison Champion,wi» married on matrimony in general, and his matrithe .1st tMtv,Ut Miss Ida Challis. mony in,_ particular. " '" In^his obsenoe, we Courageous beyond a doubt, during iz* therefore take the liberty of telling our readthe war, he has proven himself ers, how the printers do talk about tho event doubly so to marry 'in the caloric which has left T H E CHAMPION office tempora•days of June- May. he be happy, .«« rily in charge of ; * j e local" and " y e devil." "and may the beautiful bride, that, was"Challis, nevermore b^.chalice\ | £ '. Our genial.' evening' neighbor, the Patriot, does it.up in the superb style.following: Hi ' ~-' ^ o t b e J i | s ^ t h e ^ ^ m » i y n njan.^J. M A B B I E D . — On: Thursday. June 1st, 1871, 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 Si?: -"'•: city. • No oard«.-T u:> :.; ~^~^' " ' — ii • -\~i

ON NJMSAGANSSTT

BAT.

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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, , i » Oaramia^-,... ,. ••, .. 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.

L';i3w55T MU^j^Ji^ssgs^SSSEPS^J~:^m. ler, of the White Cloud"feWe/, puts in his compliments as follows: " M A B B I E D ! — J o h n A. - Martin," of -- T H I ATCHISON

CHAMPION, was

married,

on

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the

•!tt*i

1st inst., to ,Miss Ida Challiss, daughter of W. h. Challiss, of that c i t y . ' The Colonel's military ardor is still'so strong, that be emp l o y e d Rev. Mr. Guhn ; to perform the oeremony. It i s well for an editor always to have a good Ida. May John A. never lose his." .i . .; ••..' The Emporia Newt extends its congratu-

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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.' ' brother, for many, many years, and may the beautiful creations of hope and love in your hearts made one never die." •r*M;." Frank A . Root, of the Seneca Courier also extends his oomplimenta to his old comrade in the newspaper business. After quoting •*••• % I the marriage notice, he s a y s : j: By the foregoing it will be teen that our 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 couple a l i f e of unolouded j o y and happiness -.>,afeJ 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

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Von have a "through •'through tieket" ticket" foryour for jour jeur-' jeur- ! MASKS. ._ , ney, and that you will never hav«,-o»u*.e to I D u r i n j J tbe absence of the editor tor tne regret the .tart. You havelaag been an en-1 T C B X M P I O H ha* been un! c S & a S j o i e of the oldest and ablest thu*ie*Uo admirer of "Westward, Holl'-buti P*""*" 1 > . r f » . m MABTIN, e of the ianaaf Wy»P»P ?v conductors, and hereafter you will be more sincerely atUohed | dor the editorial charge of DAVID MIBTIK, it <">e of the mo»t prominent citiiene of Atoh- i • -, Esq., who ha* placed us under many obh Uon. TO»lftid|belpnge to one of the oldest M to Ida-ho! gations for the fidelity and ability with which The Fort Soott Monitor congratulates .our and most »WgT0y respeoted families of that be has discharged the duties of the position. oityf^«rets"mlgb£ be regarded as a marriage absent Editor in this wise: •• ..:•..•... r'%H He is a graceful and vigorous writer and a in Kansas of high life! acoording to the best "CoL Jno. A. Martin, of T H * ATCHISON meaning at suohja phrase. We wish the reCHAMPION was married on Thursday, the for- clear thinker, and if he had turned his atspected couple the very best fortune in life. tunate lady being Miss Ida Challiss. Not only tention to the press instead of the law he ! The Platte .City Landmark congratulates 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 the Colonel" i i follows: -., and business will extend to him and Mrs.' M;<' strong and fertile pen. We take occasion to Col. John A. >Iartin| editor of the Atchisthe-warmest wishes for a long, prosperous tender him our grateful thank* for his kind on. CHAMPION, was married on Tuesday of and happy life." •• .:.•.:;.';•': ,!.;.•-" attention to our work during our absence. last week, to Miss Ida ChalliBS, daughter of The Lawrence Journal after quoting the We have several times made draft* upon hi* tfr. Wnv^L". Challiss, of Alohison. AVc connotice of the marriage of CoL Martin, says: gratulate, the Colonel npon this happy event good nature in this way, and they have " We congratulate , Brother Martin npon in his life. the happiest event of hi* life. Good editors alway* been kindly honored. The Walhena Reporter after, referring to We also take occasion to make our acmake good husbands,as a rule;' and, accordthe marriage of the editor says i ing to this rule, Miss Challiss is to be con- knowledgements to the journals of the State We congratulate our friend'Col. Martin, gratulated on getting one of the best hus- for the kind and generous well wishes they and wish him "and''his better naif all the bands in the Slate.". . ..; „ „,..". »--t" r have recently and so warmly expressed. We pleasures and good fortune that this worlH is The Topeka Commonwealth under the, head capable of bestowing. certainly appreciate the kindness and goodof " Hymenial," after quoting the marriage The Holton News greeteth the Colonel both will of our editorial brethren, and shall notice aforesaid, disoourseth in .the compliin prose and poetry. Hear: always feel an honest and an honorable mentary manner following, that is to.*ay:j Oua NEW MA.DK BENEDICT.—The marThus has ooourred an event that has been pride in having and holding their esteem riage of Col. Martin, of THE CHAMPION, to We especially anticipated for some time by the Colonel's 1and , value the „ D a l rfriendship. lBuaB„H. w tbe accomplished daughter of Dr. Wm. L. many friends. No editor in K*n*a* has f b m e m b e „ 0 f the profes-jf ChallUs, of Atchison, affords an occasion for more friends or enjoy* a larger degree ofl gooo opinion «; numerous congratulations from the Colonel's popularity than CoL Jno. A. Martin. . / H o n J *ion in which we labor. The work anu on*. |, host of friends. As a faithful soldier, an orable, brave, high-toned and oon*l*tent, H*^ t ; e g 0 f editorial life we honor and love, we able editor, and most genial gentleman, the masterly and ready pen has ever been at the Colonel heartily deserves• the many delicate aervioe of freedom, justiot and right, and alcompliments showered upon him by the Kanways opposed to sham* and duaagogusry. for those who labor with us at this pleasant sas press?;*,*-""'v' • *" In hi* new relation he ha* the solid good will though arduous work, with pride in it and '• ' ":The' greeting hand extend wel and wishes of hi* legion* of friend*,; •'„ May i affection for it, bringing to the discharge of ' -The joys of life attend ye, continual honors and (uweaa.be his portion ' it* duties zeal, energy and honest enthu'Till ripe old age shall come. and may unalloyed happiness always be en, ' .The Glorious One befriend ye, joyed by the new marital firm." _•'•/; ;•.','; ,. eiasm, we feel a, friendship and regard that • • And • oherubs*'many send ye! The Lawrence Tribune seem* to think-the is very strong and earnest. To win and • ,"And.dying take ye home. i 'keep the friendship and esteem of these, our Colonel has acted very wisely. It'say*:" claS^-The Topeka Record is satisfied that " AN EDITOB MAXKIXD.—We are pleased to ' brethren of the press, will always be with " our Editor did a good thing. It says: ' announce the marrlege.'of OoL.Jno. A. Mar- something worth striving for. We hope. We find the following in THX ATCHISON tin, editor of Tux ATOHIIOX CKAMPIOX, to few? CHAMPION: Miss Ida, daughter of Dr. Wm; L. ChalUss, shall always have it of that oity. The bride is . represented as a On Thursday, June 1, 1871, at the resiA W O R K M A N ' S WOOING. young lady of great personal .beauty, rare dence of the bride's parents, by Rev. £. ) oulture and amiability.'.' :.;'„;...'; .'-•'_:.,',., I know that my hands may be hard and rough, Qunn, Col, J&o. A. Martin, editor of this We congratulate our editorial brother on That my cheeks may be worn and pale, 3 * paper, to Mlas Ida fihallis*, eldeit daughter the happy event, and the young lady on her Bat my heart le made of a good sound stuff, of Dr. Wm. L. ChalUai, all of this city. No 'good fortune in scouring a life partner so cards.. '•',. '] That will never falter or fail; worthy of her. CoL Martin's • name might And though in tbe world withraymates I stand We congratulate a good editor, good solTo share in the battle of life, dier, and good fellow on his fortunate union .heretofore have been said to have beoome a household word In Kansas, and it is singular I take thee, my girl, by the dainty band, with an amiable and, aooomplished .woman. that he ha* to long delayed making it a houseAs my own, my sweet bonny wife. The engagement now so happily terminated by another and more permanent: *• oontxao t," hold word in more endearing term* than the Though never ajewel wreath may span has been no secret among. CoL Martin's common .acceptation. 'None but the brave The curls on thy beautiful brow, On that hypothesis the friend* for two or three years past, and its deserve the fair.' I'll pledge tbee my heart and troth like a man, length has been the subject x>t tome' impa- gallant bridegroom ha* fairly won matrimoAnd love thee forever as now. tient comment, but we suppose we violate nial honors. Long life and happiness to Col And though the bright dreams of lore's sunny no confidence In saying that the delay has been Martin and his estimable wife/' prime occasioned l>y. an inflexible rule ' established Too often tbe future belie, TO EVA. by the young lady's father, that h.U daughTbe steep bills of lite together we'll climb, ters are not to marry till thoy are twentyB I EALPH WALDO 8UEB80K. And conquer our fate—thou and I. one years of age. This exoellentirulej HavMy coat may be poor, my words may.be few, ing been dutifully complied with, the parties 0 fair aud etateb/ maid I whose eye Yet there's never an er.nined king, were married with the approval of the par* Was VindlaJ lu the upper iSy, Can offer a queen a present more true ents, and with the good wishes of nearly., the At the eame torch that Uxbted mine: For so I muBt interpret still Than mine of a beart and a ring: entire population of Kansas. • ' •'•; » i ' The sweet dominion o'or my will,— That tiny gold link with wbicb we may bind The Mary sville Locomotive thus funnily dls' A sympathy divine. Our fortunes in one common bond, oourseih: "'"* """.•; .. ' -• .'i'!.'•",?.;';'.-! Ah I let me bhunelew gase upon And rear us a home where happiness shrined Features thai aeem in heart my own; THB ATCHISON CHAMPION of yesterday May dwell with affection most fond. Mor fear those watchful sentinels, morning, oomea to us with the following very Which charm the more their glance forbids— What more would we seek? What more would w B Ohatte^growinf underneath lelr lids, .sj&ft^* jt*fr*rr'irrft' r.!'.!!,'.'.*"'" *ri~^u M ' have? Withfirethat oi [raws while it repels. >;. MAXBUS:—On Thursday, June lit, 1871, What more could fair Nature bestow, Thine eye* atlll shone for me, though tar •4*v'« at the residence of the bride's parent*,' by If, of all her rich gifts we ventured to crave I lonely roved the laud or sea j Ji'ev, E. Qunn, CoL Jno. A. Martin, editor of As I behold yon evening star, Tbe richest that mortals may know? Which yet beholds not me. thl* f paper,- to: Mis*v Id* Ohalliat, eldest For aye, dearest girl, shall our wedded love Thin morn I olimbed themisty UU, Flash star-like, atop or our life, And roamed tbe pasture through! • daughter/of DrV. Wm. L. Challiss, aU of.this How danced tby form before my path, . And never will I a base traitor prove bity.4?No cards.-.-;.-. .;: u..-;. w: vi„u , »£ I Amidst thedeep-eyeddewl •*- Jtk To my heart, my home, or my \ j . ' S p i y W have; lef^V^e'toiroli^t.'baehelor '•J^^nnrMmMrmii-Wni' '° - b ' i L ^.wr®* . * • Carriage

[o»y compliment* the happy

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Tee, aofe In my Father's core ! 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 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 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.

I

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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
I

- O n Sunday, at 4 o'clock, the first carriage that ever crossed on the Atchison 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. daughter of Dr. Wm. L. Challiss, all of Atcb Martin, the little daughter of the editor of ison. 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 The happy couple left for St. Louia yes span, over which the carriage had to be 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 busilittle 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 Jor eaeh other as their bright marriage day.

§H%endeni

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C3XAL00SA,. KANSAS.

Atchison, Kansas, Bee. 21 1 8 8 3 3 . W. KOBEUT.S. "F. ir. HOBEItTS.

Editors

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 grandchildren, 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:

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. J This is all so I will dose, so good bye. From your little friend, HtlTJI JlattTIK. '

FIUDAY MORNING, AUG 13. Atttiiaoi!, Ksusnii, -.'lurch 'il. 1*35.

II. E. SMITH, EDITOK.

.••!:•:. Martin. I £0,

Pi", — 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 Martin, a t w o y e a r s old daughter of the editor of the Champion.

t ' THE KANSAS WEWERA. bATUU[^vY,"Xu(Tu"sT""llT-Tw^

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4r l\!> OFFICIAL

€tt$xh%\. STATE PAPEB.

J. K. TUCSON, Editor and Proprietor^

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 housetwo Martin, aged ti w wu o years hold. This makes fc four daughters and one r u n , ageu iuu.» and -• - i ,
—A

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DAILY GLOBE. THE PATRIOT T a / i T I &. H A E D W I C K E ,

138 Daji P"»

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MAY

Saturday Evening, March 2h 1885. | | • r f

D»ji to come 227

Here. John A. Martin, take :; close of yon own medicine ; although you are Governor o; the State, you should take a dose of that which you have so long administered to others, to wit! John A. Martin came down town this morning with ft smile, on his face Which rese.inhlcd an OJJMI barn door, and While handing cigars around to the hoys gave out that n hounciim hoy baby arrived at his house last night. Mother and son are

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| We congratulate GOT und Mra Martin I - - -- ,_, - . » _ •_>, | i. | i , , j , A | Q iU dill on Hie advent of a little dnufilite- at th family maiiEioD, -. . .

DAILY GLOBE, i JE1GWE & CO.,

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A Dew uirl haby arrived at tlie residence of His Excellency, Governor Martin, last evening. •

^ " ^ n T K a ^ I T K a ' v 19. 1886.

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- A boy hahy was horn to Gov. and Mrs. Martin yesterday morninir at 5 o'clock. _ /

TUESDAY

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 I last Friday evening.

the affectation of a fine gentleman. 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! JlvS.Y<; E, and \»delivered by request of the sender, under the conditions named above.

THOS. T. ECKERT, General Manager.

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i O H S A. M i B t e , SUito? A Proprietor. BOBL.E JL. PUESTJ8, Associate Editor.

SleSiiges, Kemaas, December 14. IC82, DEATH OF AttTHCB UJEIALX.ISS. g The sad intelligence of the death of A B T H C E CHALLISS, which occurred at an

typho-malarial fever, ana aiinoagh tbe best •nodical advice waa obtained, it was of no avail. The fountain of life had beoa poisoned, and cartel? skill was futile, At times it seemed as if the terrible fever wai broken, and the hearts of the anxious 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 end, which cane after all unexpectedly and terrible, as it always comes to the stricken ones. Just as the gray dawn of a winter morning faintly tinged the eastern sky, rising with the cun to that brighter world beyond, the spirit of young Arthur passed from earth to heaven. His faith was constant, and his reward sure. "Blessed are they who die in the Lord" To his parents in their deep affliction our citizens tender their warmest sympathy. The funeral will take place this afternoon at two o'clock from the reaidencs of his parents on South Fourth street. The interment will be made in Mount Vernon cemetery.

early hour yesterday morning, waa received with sincere sorrow by ail who knew him. He was a remarkably bright and studious boy, whose youth gave promise of a sterling manhood. He graduated al our High School a year ago last June, with marked honora, and some months later entered the State University at Lawrence. About three weeks ago he was taken sick, and returned to his home in Atchison, where he has since been conFuneral 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 and a quartette of friends rendered some friends many of our best citizens, young and 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 salutatory 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 biHall 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

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| There Is no ore beatlful bight on a resting place, has coased itTTeTttnirX than a devoted husband and wile wbo OioJ, on Wednesday night, 17th insk, ! and is still til death * have traveled together for half a century, Kj J at 12 o'clock, JOHN A*., voungest son of "Tho old. old lashion: Tho fashion • FnED. ]). ond KLI.A M. MIU.H, ngod two and now In the evening of IiIf, the center that came ill with our first garments, and years, three month-., and lour day of tlrivoloil children anil irietula, wait their 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: "We'vu cllmbdl Iho bill Iheglther ' o'clock. And mnny n young tiny, John, fashion—Death! Oh, thank God, till who Less than n wotik itg•> tho fill!" l«».V W'va had ni' 'nnoanlihrr. sec it, for that older fashion yet, of Imwhoso death U thui ri'CorJVd, wn« in tlio Now we innun lollor dnin John, mortality! And look upon as, nugols of llut band In linml we'll eo. ,full bloom of health On Saturday evenyoung children, with regards not <|iiilo And Bleep tbeuHlier atthc foot, ing ho began to show mam symptom i <>i' estranged, when the swift river bears us John Andenon, my Ju." Iillness, and l») Monday mm-ning it w.i-. A h'Wt of TilemlH will wish tho old pooto the ocean." jovident that ho had been attacked l>v Youth that iaaweeli'it lii-« chill, Met Mill in di Dili : plo mnny more years of comfort and 1oy. L'lrwu therlr.ir ryt-lnit upon the lendT ryes :\ 'tint I'Trihly fatal malady, ni''r)il>i',iuot|s The following relatives of Iho venerable Ami huali the i leading* no murmur n ! umphed over the disease for several day?, And ernor Martin, wift> and daughter*, Mr. and 0, fur tho moonlight —O, golden dream* that were! Mrs. n.T. Srulth, Mr. Hud Mrs. A!f. U. and gavo tho grief-stricken parents n And (I, tho glory of life'* lung, pluus'il way-: Martin, Mr. and Mrs. W. C. Marliu and faint ho]M that liU life would be spared.. were Ibe (araa lilt ayea have looked upon ; daughter, Miss Isauoll Crawford, Mr. and But on Wednesday evening ho was much Kair lint theae are Uaga-rd, aud wan, aud fury aad. Mrs. K. K. Dlair, Mr. and Mrs. David f: Sweet theInre-laugntera.and red the Up* he won; worse, and at twelvo o'clock that night llut here la ailanre nf llpa no longer glad. Au'.tl, Mr. and Mrs. 0. II. T. .lohneon, Mr. ho passed over tho dark and silent river. So, part the branches, where light fall* loin: between, aud Mrs. D. C. Mowcomh, Mr. and MrsAud plant the graue.i about hi* fool and bead ; How many fond hope*, what deepaf3, T. C'oplan, Mr. and Mrs. .1. M. Whit*, Hera hi* loved auunier ahall wear bor anficat green,, i foot ion?, were centered in this little child, And wind* jtul ruffle the fringe* of hi* bed. 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. JoseAnd hi* tho rapture life kuowrtb nut again , phine Lashler, Mr. W. C. Smith, Mils I their knoos nnd filling their homes with Mm our* the lent if*!, lite aklca no Inngrr hlu< , I'or iriidrr tnnlhjhl, ami londrr fulling rilu. I'annln Wnodard, Mr. W. 11. Oiookham, tho music of prattling accents can unMr. ami Mrs. J as. M. lSdmonsou, derstand; and they can also appreciate and sympathize with the sad household ; so stricken by this bcrenvemenl. Hut only those, perhaps, who havo lost an idolized child can fully understand and f'Uly sympathize willi the anguish of the parents whose lovely, boloved and Atcbiaon, Kcnsrui, Juno 6, 1880. loving baby boy has drilled out, stainless and fearless, upon the dark and unknown . A tttMflrftR WKllIilXU. sea that rolls round all the world.' lini Ho was an exceedingly attractive child, The Firtlclli Anniversary «r Mr. Dad aim. JauieM ftturtlii. : Kw-^S45wis*SS«l?''f- ii 1 full of grace and manly little ways, af»H''i*£sifir*'sS*vsr,4V. > " 1 ' fectionate and thoughtful beyond his Fifty years ago yesterday, In Brownsyears. 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. TilirawriMaWrww -k•»'v A golden wedding celebration is a rare everything that was said to him; taking retugoin his father's or his mother's arms occasion. Tho gathering last night was MMSBEfflfaj*<whon tlio dreadful paroxysms of his dis- of a very pleasant and really joyous character. A venerable couple surrounded by ease came on, as though he found rest their children and grauUchildreu In the land easo tliore; and recognizing nil enjoyment of good health, aud having the about him till tho last. reverence not only of their family, but fc* Death is always solemn aud full of sorall 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 Mills was made up nearly altogether ot ness, it is peculiarly sad. And this little boy was a perfect typo of ideal babyhood: tho family and old residents of Brownsville. At tho special request of the old "Mkc a lulolDg crown upon hi. (uruhr.nl Lay the 10U rloge of hi* amber hair i people there was no parade and the evenNever gnutlo eoul Lad lovelier Caitd, ing was passed In coruial greetings and Never r u n morlul child tuoro fair. pleasant revival of old memories. The | Like a lakn'a (-s)in quiet III Hie lurr.-l. only living witness of the wedding off (Were llio peace and rlearneaa of hi* ey e*,l-'ull olalumornus light* nnd warm, brown th-dowa, fifty years ago is Jlisu Isabell Crawford, fc Dark, rot nut forgetful of lh« »Llt~.' the venerable sister of Mrs. .Martin, now And now the prattling tongue is voiceeighty-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, iuMartin Is elghty.three and Mrs. Martin in nocont eye3 are closed, and tho pure and tie/ seventy.flfth" Mftr. There are no-^ sopajujo^wo daugbters fwinless, lio^rj^inLwbioh no hatred, or ndgtif3 hlDocrtsf;'or/ susmcion. or sin ever found Cu:£il*?:v"**" IX MKBOIIIAM.

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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 employed Rev. Mr. Qunn to pertorm the ceremony. It is well for an editor always to have a good Ida. May John A. never lose Ms.!' The Emporia iVeuu extends its congratulations to our yet absent editor. It says: " MARRIED.—John A. Martin, editor of THE

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Tir^szia ry FAIBMOUNT JMIK; w ..RMtJurnOSAJtY EEUCS IX THE PAHt—r / ^ TRANSPORTATION FACILITIES TOE EXHIBITORS—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 attention 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 southwestern 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 Commissioners, with great ceremony i the large concourse 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"
I

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 Atchison. 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 respcoted couple the very best fortune in life. The Platte City Landmark congratulates the Colonel as follows : Col. John A. Martin, editor of the Atchison CHAMPION, was married on Tuesday of last week to Miss Ida Challiss, daughter of Dr. Wm- L. Challiss, of Atchison. \Ve congratulate 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 Kansas 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.

(3) HOW TBS PitlKTEES I>0 TALK ABOUT THE MATBIMONT or one EIHTOII —Our readers

know that the Editor ha* cotnuiiiied matrimony. 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 married, 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 matrimony in particular. Iu hie absence, we therefore take the liberty of telling our readers how the printers do talk about the event which has left THE CHAMPION office temporarily 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 capture, his friends anticipate that ere the close of the honeymoon, be will be able to drill in the ranks of the grand army of benedicts 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 wedding caused the suspension of THE CHAMPION 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 ignorance of the reason therefor until yesterday, when we found out all about it as follows: On Thursday, June 1, 1871, at the residence 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."

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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 himself doubly so to marry in the oalorio days of June. May he be happy, and may the beautiful bride, that was Challiss, nevermore 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—" rattled" by a frill—" locked up" without mallet 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. Martin, 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 before 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 eldest 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 person to enliven an editor in times of depression. 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 unalloyed happiness.

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In olden.tlnies, so we eje tild, the wise men journeylag came "V^;l>"\ — •. 'J* From out the east to leak more light on Bethlehem's etar-llt plain. " The wisdom of the world * u ' theirs, not free from earth's alloy t . _ That which they tought was undeflled—"glad tidings of great Joy." This gained, all round from iea to sea, from land to land afar, They spread abroad the wondrous tale of Bethlehem's rites star. And ever tinco, ai time h u aped on rapid wing away, Leaving the Impress of new truths on every plastic day, The cnurae of wisdom e'er has been, through all the world's unrest, From Orient to Occident, from East to teeming West I And so our wise men, gathered now from sections rarylng wide. From cities, towns, from north and south, from plain and river side, Betake them from theae fertile fields, with wealth of harvests crowned, To where the mountain summits are in frosts forever bound. Blast pilgrims! thalr's the happy task to spread the light di vino, Which springs, responsive to their touch, from wisdom's glowing mint. Disciples of an earlier age, no scrip, no purse bad they, But yet they lingered not upon their Heaven-directed way. And so are these of goods and gold no ample store possessed, But how contentedly they "run their faces" in the west 1 No aigh of penury is heard to sound the word "alas!" But each sage resolutely grasps his talismanic "pass." The lowering form of RCT.YOLDS looms, resplendent in the van, The " Herald of Knnsns " 'neath his arm, a pencil in his palm; With microscopic eye he notes the landscape's varying line, Audnowandthonhis"point"InscrilK>!ahleroglyphic sign; These sent.Iwtimes by Uncle Sam, to grace the Journol'i page, First vex the eye of foreman bold, and make the printers rage. His ways are ways of pleasantness; his paths to glory lead, For Virtue sits enshrined within his firm's illustrious bead! With Tiucata's learning,^ deep and rich, the ballast ne'er will fail, . . . And REYNOLDS' "wind" will always fill the wide-expanded sail! Cynics are ever telling that the times degonerate are, Renowned for blodd and violence, for tumult aud for war; But however dark and shaded they may draw historic lines, There are thousands who find pleasure in the columns of onr Timet, While there are those who think, perhaps, Its touo is somewhat milder, ' Since be who long has held the helm 'has, turned a wandering WILDES ('

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Yet It lacketh not of grace nor fire, the beauty born of woman, While o'er Its varied'interests presides the handsome Lowatax. i ...'. From off financial rocks this craft by sturdy bands is

•"»"• • Zat. ."••"•• ••'<••< And so insidious, foe. has scaled the decks while

To scu .the Bui-Ui-(ili-iii no one lias e'er affrighted been, Of all this goodly ceuipany, eo gloriously gathered in. For though a lively animal, and sometimes given to fight. Its horn exalted only is when It thinks it sees the right. The right It may at times mistake—t will ne'er desert Its work. But ever yield obedience to the orders or its BURKS. Here 'mong the black republican sheep are found the goats suspicious, And yet, perhaps, the difference Is one only just factitious ; For did we wist our humble names the historic page to illume, Who conld the task more fitly claim than a PstsooTt or a Hum! To them the unchallenged right descends In a continuous line, Anil the glory of their ascestorfjiniay yet around tliein shtno! Though time and trouble may have dulled the Tribune's gleaming STEER, His place is gracefully supplied by the red-legged cavalier; For life and warmth aud rigor true its readers ne'er shall beg, While its columns yield to the master touch of the S** ever-ready OnEoi:. And If a Champion CI we need, he's here at onr cora-1 mand, His martial tread, sereuely Ann, resounds on every hand. The crash of battle come and gone—his warrior itsg he furls, And his only conquests now are among the Aichisonian girls. Oh, may the time not distant l.o (this wish is ours,be certain), When aome fair maid shall prisoner take the long-

Here, tucked away in happy plight, in tbls.congealal corner,"' ' -•'" Is seen the welcome form and "phis" of the everblooming Honniiu-'^ v-*1* • '•-".i Ton can't mistake him, if you would, by any luckless : chance, >HM'f? , -' 't. For bis omnipresent watchword Is, "Two dollars,In jidwrnctp"'" '..". Jjftr,. **•:: y. And hore sits "one, to meiSory dear, or orthographic fame, ' .'.'.. iO •" '•• •* ".;i • > The great chief of the Wyandottes, and Tmba is hi, name. •_.-.. : . u • itf,«*' -' • • ,-J :\:'r,iTon can find him out without delay, ho'we'er concealed be kevifit :i.'.V'..i-'' .-.V •'•'' -^'- *.',«, ,--..f| For -his hwiches, hwens, his hwitbers and hweres, will betray him sufficiently. •:.«,>If, on this morn, the clouds shall bend with moisture to the ground, > jl.^. • •*' . . ''•. Wo yet may hope to see "0u> Sot." fling sunshine all : around I. , •' • -f. • r . ., His is an orb which naught.obscures—which shines by day and night, V ••.. And .many a leaser planet wheels in his reflected .' . light."",./'„ .' ,.' tfi.'. . .... " [\[-; But we must forbear these lightsome words lest a Afonitor'i just reproof, .V . , , ...'.".' Should make us regret the fated hour when we wove this fanciful woof. Now, let us away to the reglou wild, whose mountains kiss the skies, '. Not forgetting e'erwhlle the tribnte dne to that giant enterprise, V ' • Whose brain and wealth and genius bold made possl• hie this day, • 1 And the land with countless blessings crowned through which Its pathway lay. 0, ever may this thoroughfare Trade's favorite high* way be, tail ec . ! • : . . . From the Paclfic'e qulot shore to the coast of the £ j stormy seat! ,-• -^jjr.t. %:-. b :•• ••.-' i ' • ; Long, through this''.glorious,medium, may our ad — defiant MARTIN ! „venturers bold •' ,H\'-•' 1 'r • .t Tis necessary, too, to make some Record of the Exchange their surplus products for Colorado gold! journey,. So HIRER enters, pen in hand, the intellectual tourA PSJUU FOR -V£1T TEARS EVEney. A friend stands at the door; Upon his venerated bead, like a living halo, glow in eitherfadhl-closedhand The genius-sparks emitted from that active hraiu beHiding rich guts, three hundred and three score; low. .. , ~ , Waiting to strew them daily o'er the land, And honest CuiiKixas, never far the "stager's"coarse Even as the aower, behind— Each drops he, treads it in, and passes by; Defouded by a conscience clear and Independent it cannot be madefruitfultill It die. mind— . O good Now Year, we claap Betakes him to the railway bonrne, In eager haste Thla warm ahnt band of thine, Loosing forever, with half clgh and half gasp, t' Inhale That which from ours falls like dead finger's twine; **• life-Inspiring odors of a Rocky Mountain gals ! Ay, whetherfierceUs grasp Thus far, dear Muse, your task has been most reaHaa been, or gentle, having been, we know sonably light, _ ,;•••• . That It was blessed: let the old year go. Bat now, alas I a beavlt/r one breaks darkly on year O New Year, teach us faith I sight.»•• "•! •••• The road of lire is hard; What form is this, oiifre of shape aud monstrous girth When our feet blend, and sconrglng winds us scathe, around, Point thou to Him whose visage.woe more marred Whose footsteps fall like barrels of salt from garret Than any man's, who salts liicb to ground? "Make atraight paths for your feet," and to the oppressed, Whose respiratory organs work, like a blacksmith's "Come ye to me. and I will give you rest'' bellows, free, vv -• • And emit a sonnd resembling much' the swell of a Yet hang some lamp-like hope distant seal . '*••'!' Above this unknown way. Kind year, to give our spirits freer scope. 'Tis PaoUTT I big of head and heart, with ample bowr And our bandastr«1ig«i to work while it is da}'. els warm. , T,; . , But If that way must slope For evory suffering brother man, and every maid forTombward,' 0 bring before our fading eyes lorn I The lamp of life, the hope that never dies. Ah, yes! 'tis he the Ponderous one, In'the glow of r Comfort our souls with love,— buxom health, Love of all human kind; Whose stalwart genius pioneers the peorloss COMMON'Love special, close. In which, like sheltered dove. WULTBl Each weary heart Its own safe nest may find; What though Topeka londly boasts touxli'c primacy ? And love that turns above Emporia yields not up the palm, bnt clings to her Adoringly; contented to reslsn . rivalry. All loves, If need be, for the love divine. ; V And though her StOTtui has not swelled to mas Friend, come thou like a Friend, todonie bounds,' And whether bright thy face, Or dim with clouds we cannot comprehend, The Cassiuses are many whom his unctious flesh con- • 1 We'll bold opt patient hands, each In his plaoe, founds.' And trust thee to the end. The time's, not distant far, perhaps, when shall meet Knowing thou leudest onward to those sphere* In loving troth Where there arc neither days nor months nor years The giant of the Neosho and the Topeka Behemoth I

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$flfc«r«y Mr. Henry.; A. CMtlej iHfflSfo^lfiutJ I7ro#h, at the Mlnneota/-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.— $onde"rful Art, U'r'~'Jt • " 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. '

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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 , 1 . . f Explores,— • -,"*,-.«;• i. l u th'e deep.granlte beda, or rip among Ihe stirs, i .'•' She delTei—or soars.

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•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," ., .Or»all It,—its true o»e—THt-Tiils! ~.'!

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On a pedestal, carved with the legends (rand, Luilting Panst.'tp.hjm, of our own bUsfland;'. Vi Who plucked the plames from tbe lightning's wing, -' f P 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.'- ' ,

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•'Vjri* 3krweleomethia monarch's •ochallenged reign, ' —' ^ ^ T O e l e r r o r s fall before his gaae, U /; fsj And throned oppressions bond and tremble," : JAnd sin, nolonger, in hut blaxe; "•' - rv i Can virtue's shining form ditsemble. Still as a seraph in a dream,

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™. aoul Tokphere-Htdeatinyis born, "•"• lie dreariest hillside wastes unroll ''* In broldered wares of grape and corn. 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".

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BY r. T. rALOIlATB. '.

lir 1. B. LOWELL.

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-: ' 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.

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."

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 so I weur heron my heart And take her fur my Queeu Of Love.—

AH ATHENIAN wt*Klt". ST THOMAS sasiserrox KaOar/LaT.

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.

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

'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 ,,' :'':.'fHTo lie all dark on the hillside That looks over woodland and corn.

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.

Hot an the Spartan yootb. wheie simple eehoel lnelflled the plain bot salntary rule Of klndaaii, and whose lioneit seals preferred Troth te display—perfoimanee le a word.

" Wo know the practiced finger," Said the books. " that seoms like brain ;* And the shy page rustled the seoret It had kept till I came again.

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

\» 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.

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!

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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. „ Her angel form hue left me now, With each familiar strain, • ' , I feel her hand upon ray brow— .Oh! sing those songs 'again.

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.""

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, 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

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IIV Hi C. STCIIMAN

:tf.A I*. »*| •In- ((.nlon-n'O meeting llirowh at 1 i.'t,

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.

\» 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.

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Snl liiav r he Ni«t I.'Mis ,'lie ivall jit level niio-ttrr HuMie- linen, 'I Imu I |if 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.

•' .,.'

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•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.|
m las*

|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)' -. . 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.

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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, Like a wild lawn you lied . Fur. far from we.

"PSALM OF LI 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, Let the dead Fast bury it=- dead ! 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; , COWAEDS IHC0££IGI3L£. And glorious la the budding year, .. . /- , • t With leaf andflowretcoming fast. A FABLE O F U FONTAINE. Tbe warm rain falling on the earth. The aunahiae following the atorm. - • BT JOBK O. SiXS. Tbe south wind, blowing soft and warm, The swan upon the lake, Bespeak a new creation's birth. The wild rose in the brake, A ahepberd, to his rrief and coat, The golden clouds that make Tbe trees no longer leafless stand. So many of hit abeep bad loat The west their throne. But with tue wealth they had before llv hungry wolves, that he was fain Of leaf and blossom covered o'er. Hieir depredationa to restrain The wild ash by the stream, When Summer reigned along tbe land. lry aome contrivance, new or old, The full moon's silver beam, IV save the remnant of his fold. The evening star's soft {rlcsni, Last week the tulip paled apace. Krflectinc deep and long, tho man S'liii.im? alone ; The violet died the week before, }{«iolved to try a novel plan; > nd now beside tbe open door Says be, "My silly aboep to teach, The I il v robed iu A'hlU— The red lose comes to take their place. I'll try the virtue of a speech, All—afl are fair and bright; Kiplaining bow by eloso array But ne'er on earth was siyhtI walk the garden path alone, IVkeep the hated wolf away. - 6o bright, so fair. , . And bear tbe thrushes sing above; The man conceived (sagacious thought.') Tbe air is redolent of love. tiat if the fools were better taught As that one glimpse of thee And so I sigh for thee, my own, n sell-defense, beyond a doubt That 1 caught then, ma chrec,(i) they'd fairly put the foe to rout, It BLole my boa it from me. I asked tbe red rose, In tbe dew. with thla he called theflocktogether, iVi'iu playful lamb to wanton wether. If sbe coald tell tbe happy time That evening thi,-*. An J straight harangued them for an hour When I coald take her band in mine, With wondrous eloquence and power, And pledge again my love anew r And now you're mine alone, Tki- burden of his speech was this: „Tha,t heart is all uiy own— • "My woolly friends 1 (alasl I miss Tbe red rose, laughing, said to mc. Vroui this assembly many who That heart, that ne'er hath known -1 E'en now ahe hastens on apace ; W «it) very dear to me and you 1) She comes to greet thee face to face, A flame before, .1 Attend!—and hearken well, I pray. She cannot linger long from thee. That form, of mould divine., . j 'i To all that I am going to say. That snowy hand'of thine, I * To you. many subjects, I would ahow Tbe honey-laden bee la humming. ! The ready art to 'scape the foe; Those locks of gold are mine: ' And all tbe thrusbea sing in tune •Tijsiiuply this: Whene'er you see To every flowret of the June, ..,^For evermore. .'• " Tk» wolf approaching, do not flee, She's coming! oh. my love is coming ! Was lover ever seen A» is your wont, but oravely stand As blest as thine, Caitlin ? •'.•;' JVotUiiii; jLoai. \t one united, solid band. Yourfirmarray the wolf will scaro Hath ever lover been Nothing hi lost; Ihe drop of dew Ami set him running.like a harel" More fand more true F That tremble) on the leal or flower, With one accord the sealous sheep la but exhaled, to fall anew Thine is my e.v*ry vowi The offered counsel vowed to keep, In summer's •hunler-abower; For ever dean as now! And thanked the friend whose sterling sense Perchance to shine wl'hln the bow Vrefared them now for self-defense. ' jfityeen of liny heart be thou I That fronts tbe aun at tall of day— Bat saark the sequel I ere the light ' i Perchance to aparkle in the Sow Of day had faded into night. Of fountains far away. Than came again the fearful cry, ••A wolf I" whereat the cowards fly. So with our deeds, for good or ill, Although 'twas but the shade of one They have th-lr power, scarce understood; Bow the beat state to know J—It la found out frWected by the setting sun I Then let ua use our better will ,.„^ Like the belt woman 't—th nt least ulked about. WOEAL. ; To make tbem rite with good. . / ^ , ^ IJJJ Like elides on a lake Ihey go, -a aj J Satan will ont 1 'Tis all in vain , SCUIIiEB. ,,Blng within ring, and never stay, f^) , fa bend her course against the grain; yr Ob I that our deeds were fashioned so . .' Ttatfh, preach, exhort—do what you will, That Ihey mijbt bless alrrayl > - • ^; ; I» towards—they'll be cowards still I

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% •••.yZ.sjfftjir

'•L**.')»fr.-.!*» -' 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, As m a n j another woman that's only hair as old.

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I I.

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Taint no use of boastin', or talkin' over free, B u t many a bouse and home was open then to mo; Many a han'some offer I had from likely men, And nobody ever hinted that I was a burden then.

I

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.

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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 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 and gray, *3 ••*'1 I've noticed it sometimes somehow falls to work tbe V. other way.

81

Rail '.•Hi J3j!

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; And what with her busban's sisters, and what with children three, •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 An' then I went to Thomas's, the oldest eon I've got. Over thfl^hlfi ift?tbe poor-bouse—it seems so horrid queer! For Thomas's buildings '<1 cover the half of an acre lot: Many a step t/ve taken a toiUu' to and fro, But all the childr'n was on me—I couldn't stand their But this is a sort of Journey I never thought to go. sauce— And Thomas said I needn't think I was comiu' there to What Is the use of heapin' on me a pauper's shame t boss. Am I lazy or crazy t am I blind,or lame 1 True, I'm not so supple, nor yet so awful stout; And then I wrote to Rebecca, my girl thatllves out West, But charity ain't no favor, If one can live without. Aud to Isaac, not far from her—some twenty miles at best; I am willin' and anxious and ready any day And one of 'cm said 'twas too warm there for any one so To work for a decent livlu*, an' pay my honest w a y ; old, For I can earn my victuals, an' more tou, I'll be buuud, And t'otbtr hart the opinion the climate was too cold. 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 say, For any kind of reason, that I was in their way.

ft

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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.. 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; 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

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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 Because I beop them back ?

I

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.

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; One goldeo day ledeems a weary year. But still I've borne up pretty well, an' wasn't much put Patient 1 listen, sure lint sweet at last down, Will sound Ula voice ol cheer. Till Cuarloy went to the poor-master, an' put me on the Then vex me not with chiding. Let me be. town. I must be glad and %rateiul to the end ; Over the Lil! to the poor-house—my childr'n dear, good- I grudge yon not your cold aud darkness,—me l.yi The powerB ol llgbt befriend. 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 M-ASl/KING T H E B A B Y . That you shall nc ver suffer the half I do to-day. BT E _ _ l

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.

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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

TTS'.

imiMnmiiiji IFJT

' •* « ______ 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. , •••• 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 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 *"!t God is good weTuiowi

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• • ..

ALIO! BSOWKX.

We measured the riotous baby Agalnat tbe cottage-wall— A itiy grew at the threshold, Andtheboy wasjosta* tall! A royal tiger-Illy, With spots of purple and gold. And a heart like a jewelled chalice The fragrant dew to bold.

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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 moanTo 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 Lady In the land I .; ".*.."• When the early roses 8cent tbe suony air ..'•"••'•> • She shall gather white ones ' To tremble In her halt I 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 Go down to the meadow, And labor away 'mong the That ever the sun thone

©he iFacrs JPcstrr«$Eoth?r.

break of day, ion John, sweetest hay 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.

as fcX5

Till he caught the sight of a golden head, And a fair and merry face, Then so bright and round, with a sudden bound, T h e sun went up in liis place. 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.

Br 8

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

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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."

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, And Mary, she laughed at her lover's mood, 'TIB not to soothe thee Into sleep, but Just to As she turned from his fond caress, still m y wo? Though the south wind blew,from her lips so true, And k n o w ye, when I lean so calm against The sweet little answer, " Y E S . " 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 ? " Oh ! wherefore so glad?'' said farmer Grey, And know yo, tho' m y m i l k be hore, m y " Oh ! wherefore BO glad, son John ! heart is far nwoy, For tbe storm to-day spoiled tbe sweetest hay Dim Face, Grim Foce! Daughter of a Fay! That ever the sun shone on." III. But John knew nothing of rain or flood, Gold Hair, Cold Hair! Daughter to a King I And nothing ot ruiued liny ; Wrapt in bands of snow-white silk w i t h jewFor the. flowers of joy, to the farmer's boy, els glittering, Tiny slippers of the gold upon t h y feet so Were scattered along the way. thin, And merry the wedding-bells rang out Silver cradle volvet-llned for thee to slumAud merry the pipert did play, ber in, For ihe golden dnwn of the happy morn Pygmy pages, crlmson-hair'd, to serve thee That ushered the marriaee dny. on their knees, To bring thee toys and greenwood flowers J GOING TO M.tlEP. and honey bags of bees— . BY ALICE BOBBIN'S . •>{ was but a peasant lass, m y babe had hut the milk, Gcoi i itlif. Dstty I Wh-'i. one kiss more 1 Gold Hair, Cold Hair) ralmented In silk I I e»rr v< u t w p t r siMesbef««>; Ot'! tri* Is the very Ian' »f VI, IT. Klfbt ou u witch, '('« tbesamiuld trick; Upon a bed of rose's-leaves ahe lies and fans Aud Johriry Clover »n1 A r t D-'W Bating each other down stairs for you. herself; And though m y heart Is aching so for one I don't like ruber, mv aleier.pt. afar from me, So luneti and p-ade or pour and fret; I often look Into thy face and drop a tear for* Joru.ru is neb and Arty U wise. thee. But scmeoody else ba« tbe b .uuiest eyes. And I a m but a peasant born, a lowly cotAsd somebody, beiehol won", come to-vlgbt: ter's wife, 8'i nrre'e for » frolio, ynu winsome spnte. i Pale Thing, Frail Thing 1 sucking at m y life! Tbn'f fair; tbe pi lows were made tor bulls, Ana babies for love-pets, and nu^s and fall*. v. Weak Thing, Meek Thing! take n o blame Dnr't err. darlinr, I'll kls« the bruise, from me, ' 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. give to thee; For though thou art a stranger thing, and "And daddy'sto»s?" Yhu'rea wlteb to guess; though thou art m y wo, Bui, since you're »o wondroosly o ever, yes. To feel thee sucking at m y breast Is all the Burnt church be.llsring en the clear soft air, And fairies aie gainbolii-g everywhere. joy I know, It soothes me tho' alar away I hear m y A s t n r t ! Well, listen: "G-r-Be"—vewnlog, nb.'flel daughter coll, "Boy Jack built a bean-ladder un to the s k y : , My heart were broken If I felt no little lips And be jnunu at tbe top—" It baa come lite tbe at all I •weep Of the fine tailing bloesinis, aud Daisy's asleep. If I had none to tend at all, to he Its nurse and slave, 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. \ and rave I Tbtf 'ri->toLe; sfid the ohurcb-tellsTrrow fitful and faint, : VI. And tbe sweet air, so pitiful, echoes tbetr plaint! Bright Eyes, Light E y e s ! lying on m y k n e e t t ' If soon I be not taken hack unto m i n e own A «'ep on the gravel—a W iti>! He 1 • th re! countree, I'll run ic the mirror aid fatten niy hairj :. J.' For. thonim Johnny if wealthy and Arty is wise,'-' To feel m y own babe's little lips, as I a m I love s mcbody else for his laughing nrown eyes. 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, I £^r'—^Vr^^.-V*^'*- '• * .."/.i/iV Ji.-?:. 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

x'.

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.

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 iiiar. 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; And in short measures life may perfect be. —Ben. Johmon.

p M

fujtEXTBAL.

.'HE

Growth,

g

DECK OF T H E " O U T W A R D BOUND."

. a p t liipnc ollssfufduyi , S o w eeldom we dream of the mariners' graves, Breaks on the silence of the wintry earth 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!

I t V i ^ ' ^ ^ y , n. MYERS •'r-ty.-..-'Vv*->.i-.; - — : —

The hurricane comes aud the hurricane goes, And little the heed we take; Though the trees may snap as the tempest blows, And the walls ot our homestead shake. • , _ , NptT 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: On the deck ol an " outward bound." Nor, In one perfect hour • ••

atnbV.hfitltV footsteps pf J*t
I In slow, softpulses, crecpsherlire again. ^ 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

ft.'.

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LABORERS.

*•

BT CHARLES DICKENB.

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; Not.in one ao'.den wauf Will thy soul ripen to Its glorious prime And the rich fruitage mark till) harvest time; • But slowly, • day by tlay, In the full sunshine aud thciMidnight gloom Must grow the fruit that crowns Its wondrous bloom. What though the blossoms lade! Better than all the tender idiarmsof spring, The minimer verdure where the birds ntny sing. " »' Ami tiulld-tlieir sheltered nests. In their glad songs perchance thy soul may hcajr ,. .,.. ^ . » . .'. •, . Some heavenly eehoosstealliig^to (hiue ear. What thoujth the. leaf.may fall! So the full light of autumn suns may glow With ripening warmth on preejons "fruit below, »"" Fit for the Master'* hand. Aud the frail vine may nobly stand at length Nursed by . the tempest to Us sturdy strength. *".'$•' • .

The following Terse*, written daring a period of severe agricultural distress, tppeued In Thi Dotty Ntwi of Feb. H, IMS: Ouee, on a.stormy sea, O B God, who by Thy Prophet's hand A ship rode darkly through the midnight -a. Didst sinit* the rocky brake, drear. Whence water came at Thy command, Her trembling crew forgetful, In their fear, Thy people's thirst to slake: Of Him whose tender love. Strike, now, upon this granite wall, Its constant watch above his children kept. Btera, obdurate, and high I Though worn with toil, tlie weary Master And let some drops of pity fall slept. 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.

Safe is thy ship, 0 Soul! Bearing such precious freight, though skies be black ' And nngry surges beat across thy track, If Jcsns sail with thee. -.• .. Keep thou the .watch, ami In each fearful hour . . . . . . . , The wind and wave will own the Master's 'power.' * •' ' " " ' •" . • • - ' • •• Put on thy shining robes; Some happy morn "thy feet shall touch the strand, "'-• ' - i And thy glad soul await thf beckoning band, . \ Smiling and unafraid.; ., Aud pass with singing through the golden gates To the fair palace where thy Father waits. .
| Kuow'st thou, Gretchen, how It happens,' I That the..dear ones die ?..;•,, . . God walks dally'.In his garden T While the sun shines high: In that garden there are roses Beautlfurand bright,T *?•" And he gazes round delighted With the.Jovely.signt: x , ;;;v If he marks onVgayiy blooming1,''" Than the rest1 wore MM'tt$l"#'*$ «']. He. will pause and look up6u It, fj .'.-.- j ? F u l l of tend«r care;' . #$ . •, '] And the beaufeoiyi rose he "gathers r1*"* '.3 V Injds.tpabni Hes^Hq «»"Vr '-wt'/C n u t on earth". aro'teaiS _ sorrow. But earth' are tears aud **1 For'*diIfc^£aies'tL^i;t'ijtBU.

As the wind gets up and the last faint light Is dying away In the sky! How we listen and gaze with a silent lip, ' And judge by the bending tree, How the same wild gust must toss.the ship, And arouse the mighty sea 1 Ah! sadly then do we meet tbe day, When the signs of storm are found, And pray for the loved one faraway, On the deck of an " outward hound." There is one that 1 cherished band in hand— We roved o'er lowland and lea; And 1 thought my love lor that one on the land Was as earnest as love couUl be. But now that one has g-mc out on tbe tide, I And that I worship the more; And I think ot the waterB deep and wide, As I bask 'mid tbe flowers on shore. I have watched the wind, and I have watched the stars, And shrunk irom the tempest sound ; For my heart strings aie wreathed with tbe slender spars That carry the " outward bound." I have slept when tbe zephyr forgot to creep, And the sk y was without a frown; But I started soon from that fittul sleep, With the dream of a ship going down. I have sat in the field when the corn was in shc.k, And tbe reaper's hook was bright, Bnt my fancy conjured the breaker and rock, In the dead of the moonless nignt. Oh! I never will measure affection again, While treading earth's flowery mound, But wait till ihe loved one is tar on the main, On tbe deck of an '• outward bound.' —Eliza Cook,

The Swift Messenger. O Ariel, tricksy and dainty, You spirit of flUMt air, That was given the first man Afani Tbe breath of his month to btar; Well suited the pair in Men Your happy, wandering will: But the world li wider aud sadder, And you sre a triflir still. 0 Hermes, with winged saadala, 0 teacher of toogut-s apd arts; ., That came to the crerii'g uetious As the world grew in taelr hearts; Unbarring tbe gates of learning. To stcres for the i eopls's need, And tsaeblt'g the cUl>ter»l boekmea To write fur-^he n.or«d to read. . »,•' Tly swiftly the wldeearth over, O IKruue, whose feet are wings 1 Before you the derkness lightens, Behind Jon the desert singe. . But lh« world spins taster and faster, And blessing must strive with ban, And wbrreihall wefinda swifter • To carry the -wcrit of man I On htm In the' iatlr?eYages ' (And his >igna>s areall daub) Tke train ••( thi> thundering aKee, TD© e&ds of the world., are corns Forth on the wild ste^m-horses He rides to I he last affray; Bat whom shell he send-before htm, And who shall prepare bts way 1 Ilia cry cam's op to the Watcher , That sits forth* help of msu,': rAnd H J said, "I muss send another, "•• Or the world mnithalt sgsln." Bo He rooghMo'the hont of spirits:'. The spirit taat'swirteet ran,. And "Go," H> said to the Lightning, -And carry the words of man I"„

-•••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.

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.' ^ . •

When lips have felt the dying kiss, And felt the kiss of burning love. Oh, please dontso down on yonr Wneea now, And kissed the deed—then never more J net thinkiPerhaps some one may come, In kissing should they think to move. } If yonr sylph-like Miss Belknap should see us, Mas. X. B. Baownraa •• Her anger would make her quite dumb; ; But since vou insist on an answer, .:':f.vThough 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 !

m

Not mine to look when cherubim And seraphs may not see, But nothing can be good In Him Which evil is in me.

- - -' 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: Assured alone that life and death His mercy underlies.

tie

And if my heart and flesh are weak . To bear an nntlred pain, The bruised reed He will not break, Butstrengthen and sustain.

i

No offering of my own I have, 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; • And Thou, O Lord! by whom are seen Thy creatures as they be,-." ..-^'J: Forgive me If too olose I lean ,,.. My human heart on Thee I.' (

issr

•

B A W K ' S NEST. ^..(SiSITM.)

„ DICKENS IN CAMP.

Above the pines the moon was slowly drifting, The river sang below ;

oade—the red road sharply round- The dim Sierras, far beyond, uplifting 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 ;

• A tEpKMDd ftet.belowi

Or w t e i ^ ' n a l U a y ' . V*

mon,,ulB

Baby Paul, BT vis. minor TBOMPSOH.

» i ? w«T H-'-n" SSaiai'

Vi

•ld*

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-

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;

' S S f e f f l a ' ^ r a ) / bnrronedi '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, And as the fire-light fell, ''Walkw/of Mnrpby's, blew a hole throujb Peters He read aloud the book wherein the Master Portellinsr him be. lied, „„..,,„ Then up »od dusted out of South Horaltes Had writ of "Lillle N e l l . " Across the long Divide; ''We'renblm out of Strong's, andupthrougb^den, boyish fancy—for Ihe reader And 'jcrosa the lord below. And up this mountain (Teters' brother leadin'), Sngcst of them all — And me and Clark and Joe. he" read, from clustering pine and cedar "He'lou'l us game! somehow, I disremeruber A silence seemed to fall; Jest bow Ibe thing scm round;- « Some sav 'twas wadding, Bsome a scattered ember some, say C The fir-trees, gathering closer in the shadows, s From Area on Ibe ground. Listened in every spray, "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, Wandered and lost their way. \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. Ih - ' • 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!

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!

• .«; 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, Blend with the breath that thrills And kinder makes one queer Anifduuy looking down. A drop of whisky With hop-vines' incense all the pensive glory Ain't a bad tblng right here I'' ' "* That fills the Kentish hills. 1 - f > l » M l l ArtTt»-H»w. !'INTO EACH LIFE SOUS EAIH MUST And on that grave where English oak, and holly, I TALL." And laurel wreaths entwine, /£• "Into each life?" aye, eten so, Deem it not all a too presumptuous folly — ,, %. Clouds roust gather, or iwlft or slow J This spray of Western pine! L And the bluest sky may be darkened soon By the thunder clouds crossing the burning noon. But,-bleuings on the rsln I A WINTER DAY. Freshness and beauty come In its train; And though the drops fall. 0 MOURNFUL day ! 0 fallen leaves ! Glory and sunshine do follow them all. 0 rain! Blow-dropping from the eaves ; - The clouds that have no rain 0 wind ! that beateth at the pane, 'Are darkest «nd coldot, most sad and drear; And sobbeth, though your sobs are vain, Most dull and gray, with no promise of cheer. 1 weep with you this mournful day, ..Silence ana gloom axe in their train; For life and love are gone away. , 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, I loved her, and I dreamed, as men ;-• 'And through sll one's brain Dream once, but never dream again— Goes s sense of pain, Dreamed of a thousand things to be I »A saddest interludlng, •• — j All for iter sake who cared for me— L&s iu harmony with the mournful strain f ^ h a t is slgbipg in the breeze— Dreamed sweetly, but the dream Is done .That Us moaning .'mid the leafless trees. That with the summer-time begun. As a requiem o'er all The fadiag lUe wherein no rain doth fall. She was a flower that loved the s u n ; iMy frail white flower ! no fairer one ~Wh«t lift but hath Its tears? 80 sweeter made, What were the sunshine but for the shade? iDied, when the Summer's children died A,weary monotony that will not fade. Sn valley and on brown hillside. i X w * J f , o u f ? , ° ' e r changes, but they are The gray clouds hid away the snn, ., W As glory pf.the sun, or star, ; And soon her summer-life was done. Jtougfceloudy day or night cfear breaking. Shlningfti off, It may be-but still shining, Sob on, 0 wind, and cry In vain, * j to rebuke! most sweet of our repining. For that which shall not come again. Heboid the rilted clouds are taking The fairest flowers are first to fade, liD^MMML* flight, and with them go.ur fears, The things we love most, first to d i e ; jif&fh toes not thesuu the bright*?forthe rain? . ^ ^ ^ ^ • . " S ^ F e e n ? moregolden-bued the 0 wind, the sad complaint you made, • j$ni»o s M l dare to say that through our lives I Is but the universal c r y ! ^^mnnetoijrtthasameanalogyF wsg^nto , nowy laroud]

,^uu

I

" —XoHjifellow.J

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, This U my Baby Pnul,

$

1

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*, Scratching the table and wa'l, 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. - -
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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, When I was one-*nd4w*aty. Mag, And you ware siTentoen.

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. BONO or TAB Bisnro ixafc •

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Oh did you see him riding down, ' ; "" i y J U f ^ And riaing down, while allthe Vown . ^ . ; Came out to «ee, tame out to see,. , •'.*•'; \ • .' 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," And did you hear that cheer on cheer, •';.-'.• That OTer all the belli rang clear I •. e ' 'J' * And did you eee the waring flage, • ic* Tbe fluttering flage, the tattered flage, Bed, white, and blue, ehot through and through, Baptised with battle'! deadlj dew T And did you hear the drum*' gay beat, The dinmi' gay beat, the huglei sweet, The cymbals' clash, tbe cannon's crash, That rent tbe sky with sound and Aatb ? And did you ice me waiting there, Just waiting there, and watching there,. One little lass, amid the matt That pressed to eee the hero pass J

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' BT HLBAKOKA LOUISA. UBBVKT, '.

• i irr HOBS. n « n . '*' V T i^'if'^'.-

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, I was woke In the grass B y the delicate pass Of a gossamer thread.

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Darning little stockings For restless little feet; Washing little faces To keepXhem clean nnd sweet j Heartirltj Bible lessons, Teaching catechism, Praying for salvation From heresy and schism,— . „ Woman's work.1 . Sewing on the buttons, Overseeing rations, Soothing with a kind word Others' lamentations; Guiding clumsy Bridgets, Coaxlug sullen cooks, Entertaining company, And reading recent books,— Woman's work.

Up I Bed 1 up I fled I , Lake, forest, and valley before me were spread -JBinjrieand_n.eadojfcrln»v____ .. . . . Shingle and lea. Glimmer and shimmer and ripple it sea..! •:' < Higher, higher, .-„„„•*,. My wing's desire I • • * « « • « • • Higher, higher, higher, higher, Small as spines on the thistle The white spires bristle, "•- " —HO-XttoerrhoUller;— Smaller and smaller.' -.::•' • '• I Higher, higher, • - . . . , .. Myvrlng*sdesire. " ' • ' Up the fire-mountain, by fountain and fountain , - . Of flrel ,. • ,.-,.-,., On the topmost cone A white eagle's feather la waving alone.'•'• Higher, higher, .. • My wing's desire I ' ..»•"" Let me swim, let me'swoon - • In the rush of the whirlwind that swirls 'neath the moon. •^ Higher, higher, higher, higher I— C •... Oh I the drive of the rack.

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Burying out of sight Her own unhealing smarts; 1 Letting in the sunshine On other clouded hearts j Binding UD the wounded, Healing of the sick, Bravely marching onward Through dangers dark and thick,Wonian's w o r k !

sum stun stini sum ..,.,

Leading little children, Tbe rush and tbe thrill - . . . , . . And blessing manhood's years ; Beat me hack; ' ••-•.>>•• • • Showing to the sinful In tbe strife < . L',,: i . Aha did yomee him amiling down. H o w God's forgiveness cheers ; Breathlessly, deathless)?,,- •• 1 Scattering sweet roses And smiling down, at riding down lighting lor ••««-• -•;•• ^ « . " - ' " Along another's path ; l a k e hack the rush *ratsrifl.yl'«-'.:.. With slowest pace, with etately grace, 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, • —[VKW, hi higher, higher, higher!. Letting fall bar own tears PW Turned red aad white with sheer delight, .Higher, Tbedelifcbt, the delight I- ' - • Whore onjy God can see ; . To meet the eye«, tbe smiling eyes;...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, . ••! • ! After the roar, - ; ; ••.;:;•• Ob did yon see how swift it came, Teaching by e x a m p l e ; . So to soar, so to soar •' 1 Bow swift it came, like sudden flame, , Yearning'for the gateway, ;•' ." Through tbe golden ddor'l "' . That smile to me, to only me, * .. " "1 •' < ..:Mo higher, no higher, .. ZT.':•, Golden, pearly, ample,— • . • My wing's desire I. , . ... Woman's w o r k ! The little lass who Washed to see 7. . 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 ; . Bright upon bright, Oh all along, a lovely throng Her locks smoothly braided, ... j .• Sweet upon eweet; Of faces fair, beyond compare, Upon her breast a rose ; Bllenoe on silence floating out stealingly, - , Lashes resting gently - * . Beamed out upon him riding thore. "• Hushfully, feelingly, *}' Upon.the marble cheek ; After the whirlwind not a pulse beat 1 A look of blessed peace . .All asleep, asleep, . * Bach face was like a radiant gem,. ^•Asleep in tbe still. Upon the forehead meek. ' A sparkling gem, and yet for them Folded deepj ••• ' Ho swift smile came, like sudden flame, • Tbe hands softly folded, Asleep In tbe still.of the broken :wlil • '.:,•• Touched by the universe tenderly, healinglr, The kindly pulses s t i l l ; Ho arrowy glance took certain aim. ,, •^ ^ U around ^ •• . . The cold lip knows no smile, Not a sound, ; * . -. L T h e noble heart uo thrill; Be turned away from all their grace,' Her pillow needs no soothing, Left or right — ' From all that grace of perfect face, She craveth for u o c a r e » • • ., Hot a eight. .. . . -. He turned to me, to only me, •"" "'".' > Only the stars sailing fleet after fleet Love's tundercst entreaty (> The Utile laas who blushed to see 1' __ ...' B u l l u t u g h b «..; Wakes no responses there. ..-./. r . Lapsed in supinenees, (.OLDEN HAUL ," Ol the divineness, A grave in t h e valley, ' t..i^ j After the whirlwind rjot;a pulse-heat I Tears, hitter 6obs, regret; Golden Hair sat on her grandfather's knee ; \' , l i g h t upon light, r Bear little Golden Hair, tired was she, Another lesson taught, T .71 Heat upon heat, I All the day busy as busy could be. -' That life may not forget ; - :» Bright upon bright. , A race forever hidden, •, cj ' • -, . ••• , Sweet upon sweet; ' 1 Up m*thTrnoTnlng~tTsoon"as" lwesltehTr " ' A race forever run : Wings in the ,wuderness r worlds at the feet, f~Out wttlrthe.blrds and the bntteifl.esbright; " D u s t to dust." the preacher, salthi -• ••' ••• '••*" Sweetl F ittting- about till the coming of night : 1 . . ' ! ;;r'.;::..: 1 - Sweetl • And womanVworXliLdarifi. Grandfather, loved with the curls on her head« I . . ^ 1 '•• ^ , i . ' - B w e e t l ' . - " ~ ~ ~ J i i TBIHK OP THEE. " What has my baby been doing;" he-sald,"THE L A D V TO TVBFUO'fEB.. "Since she arose with the sun from her bed?" •-• 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, Embalm tbe scented lea; In what Bweet way our love appears to me. Played with.my,dolly,aud/esdsdmy 'bun';,,,... And tinge tho west hi golden hues. Think of sweet ways, the sweetest that can be, not "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. "know; And then I made ont of water and. soap M 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; Therefore similitudes thou must forego. "Then I have readed In my picture-book -, And zephyrs 'mid the rustling leaves Thou seem'st myself s lost part, Disport in wanton glee. . . And little Bella and 1 went to look '" 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 When nature's beauty dies, "Then I corned home, and I eated my tea, v- •' " And fit the leaves again about the heart, I'll think of thee, when spring time comes, That mended flower would be . •: And t climbed Up to my grandpa's knee: .i-.-.tJ Hearer and nearer the little head pressed,-'*: t, A poor, faint sign to thee And flowers around us rise. I'mjesItasUied tiredgrandfather;* can he..', S'I*breast.Of how one's self about the other grows. Until droopedasupon Sear little Golden Hair, "sweet be thy restl'" I'll think of thee 'mid summer beams. Think of the sun and dew „ , „,-Walled In some little house of leaves from sight, When Joy birds sweetly sing; We are but children: tbe things that we do, 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*," And thou art still as far as day from night And every silvery note recalls I -Be may find it ae guUeless-as'Gold^n. Hair's play' Sweeter thanv„honey-comb. ' - > \ . . >. • '"r 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 Whon'fancy"s&iys to elfln bowers, ', As to sink like an innocent child to our re»t, < . And cornea-love's witchery, .-^ • And feel ourselves clasped to the .Infinite ..brtsst 1 I'll dream again of vanished hours, c ; ^Dlssluidpwed fc And fondly Udnkjof ther '"-•' ' -" L';;:. •''• •-.•.->•,*> v liiriiiii.-,'-.- \i itudesjhtiu;

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BABY BUNN. ,'-, BT JOSI«/. M-» V Winsome baby Bunn! Brighter than tbe stare that riso In the dusky evening ikies, Browner than tho robin's wing, Clearer than a woodland spring, Are the eyes of baby Bunn— Winsome baby Bunn!

THE DTINO T E A S ,

WOULDN'T YOU LIKE TO KNOW?

at urn m a r GaaMnaa.

BY JOHN 6. SAXB.

With ilirfe.lihe meiic.'low, Coaadl forth eglin the lolemn harp of Time; Mail f«f Ilia bariad houil, a foiieial ultima O'er human joy and woe. f b a i a r t laai'i wail aroonil Uia paninjr biai; Based la thy diaaulait Mat, drparlmf year!

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!

TTSt eve Thy wine hat iwepl O'at tha wide threaluild of Ilia shadowy pail, Give back tha tiealurel U thy bosom call, Tba hari-etlearlh lial wain; Give back tha lily'l blocim aoil aiolal'i brealh. T b e S a m " 1 " leevei tbatbowed before tha teapar Daalh. I Girt back tha dreamt ofTame, . T b a eapirelieue airunj U* {lory wen; llopee that want out. pi-rcliance, whan veltliy lea, Nor laft nor uaea nnr name; •Gief back tha wealed hour., half.illleiod prayer, T h e bi(b roselies foi(at, that Hemp thy anaali fair.

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!

Give back the flow of Iheushl T h a t woka within tha pnat'i yearning braait, Weaning i n wild and paisionnle anraat; Love's ralahuw viiion* wweght O f yanth'e daap, fearless trust, that light tba ICIOH With an iatinia flaw; taeordi or heart and tool! Give back—fi
Weep, mother, weep! For the little one asleep With his head against your breast; • Cite back! who shall aaptara Never in tbe coming years, Creatine*! boandlaii taalmi, in maik ihy preyj Though he seek for it with tears, .._. Who tnoael whare man hai never m u n i to away, Will he find so sweot a rost. Or teieaee dared In mail Oh, the brow of baby Bunn! ^ .Oh', -who il,all if II what loni have iat lor eye, Ob, tbe scarlet mouth of Bunn! What waildi «oaa oat, what eyitt-Bii paiiad awayl Ono must wear its crown of thorns, Not till tha tut* lhaII fall, Drink its cup of gall must one! _ . A n d earth and ski hafora ataaj'l piasanoa flat, Though the trembling lips shall shrink, Jahell-homen vision look aa ipniii saa White with anguish while tbey drink, baaaath thy mvitic pall: And tbe templo sweat with pain . Bat hark! with aacant claar and (lute-like swell, Drops of blood like purple rain; •Fleet, o> lha New Veai's vaica. Departed one, Farawel Weep, mother, weep!

THE PERFECT WO MAN.

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!

SHE was a phantom of dclisrlii When first abe gleamed upon my sight I A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament ; Her eyes as stars of twilight lair ; Like Twilight's too, her dusky hair ; Hut all things else about her down From May-time and the cnecriul dawn ; A dancing shape, an iina?e gay. To haunt, to startle and wa>lay.

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!

I saw her upon a nearer view. A spirit, yet a woman loo! Uerbousebold motions light aud free, Aod steps of virgin-liberty ; A countenance in wbicb did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet ; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's dally food, For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.

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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.

And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of tbe machine ; A being brealbing thoughtful breath, A traveller between life and death ; Tbe reason firm, tbe temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength and skill: A perfect woman, nobly planned To warn, to comfort and command ; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of an angel-light. WILLIAM WOEESWOHTII.

I know a girl with teeth of pearl. And shoulders white as snow: She lives, ah! well I must not tell — Wouldn't you like to know? Her sunny hair is wondrous fair, And wavy in Its How; Who made it leas One little tress — Wouldn't you like to know? Her eyes are blue (celestial hue!) And dazzling in thoir glow; On whom they beam With melting gleam — Wouldn't you like to know? Her lipa are rod and finely wed. Like roses ere they blow; What lover sips Those dewy lip? — Wouldn't you like to know? Her lingers arc like lillies lair, When lillies fairest grow; Whose band they presE With fond caress — Wouldn't you like to know? Her foot is small and has a full Like snow lUkes on the snow; But where it goes Beneath the rose — Wouldn't you like to know? She has a name, the sweetest name That, language car. bestow | "l'would break the spell If I should tell — Wouldn't you like to know?

A PHODLEM. Ill

L O U I S E CUA'NDLKB MOOXTOS

M r darling has a merry eye. And voico Like silver bolls: How shall I win her, prithee, say— B y what magic spells 1 If I frown sho shakes her bead. If I weep she smiles; Timo would fail me to recount All her willful wiles. She flouts me so—she stings mo so— Yet will not let me stir— In vain I try to pass her by, My little chestnut bur. When I yield to every whim She strait begins to pout. Teach mo how to road my love, How to find her out I For flowers she gives me thistle bloomsHer turtle doves are crows— I am tho groaning weather-vane, And she the wind that blows. My little love I My teaming love I Was woman made for man— A rose that blossomed from his side < Bollevo it—those who can. I went to sleep—I'm sure of i t Some luckless Summer morn; A rib was taken from my side, And of It made a thorn. But still I seek by some fond art To link It to my life. Come, solve my problem, married men: Teach me to win my wife.

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W I L L H E COME.

HILDA OF THE HEAD.

• A true incident, showing woman*! love and devotion, that may ba witneiaad daily In one ! of the thoroughfares of Cincinnati.

BT D . IVAS DOWNS.

[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. , 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 receiveBright gifts from garnered fruits above? On, that we only could believe I

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 ; And three are gone, three darksome years, 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.

I i

AS4a YmeBMioBT «s*I w t w ' t ' 1 n n °'^ frfe1"' of mine, In his library1 coiily over our wine, 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. 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,"

J £ t^'K^^^V^*" What glor What glory tbcs I Wlutt A gUiupee 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

My treasures—source of all my Joys— The wealth that cheers me on thro' lif.tril 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 ornamentKnown 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 nd ehe laid: '• 0 my Ii A bod and falling and old and grey, > B V, You have eufferad Ike ilk. On the thirtieth morn or her wedding day— ;« moaning. 5 Firs, wlf* in lini* but the ninth in number— g fi\i Betsey Perkins awoke from slumber; u~ ..

oe,*for.4bsenc* atoning, ; you b i n bled without

* 0 tarry a day-are foreverwe part! For tb* bliss of your.eomiog brine* death to my heart!" . .. j "

And ihe hear d the belle or Bait Uk* shsddlng -Their melody over her husband's wedding.

Then it seemed that tbe cot and the mountain* eauk down, And the stars thronging round hid tbe lighta of the town.' '. ii i.-- •

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..

But her fear* .wore assaugeJ on the breaet of her choice, . . . " And the comfort unspeakable borne on Hie n i c e ;<

for he In the church was a reigning star— Oae of the "Twelve" and a Couniellor;

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 many missions had made him wlee, And deepened the lights in hie handeome syss;

" And eepouied in My pain, with My arme opened wld The old and neglected by men caet aelde I"

While eh*, bod.rlddeu with habu and caret, 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.

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.

And tho wedding belli were clear and ehaip •As arrow* ehot from the chorde of a harp.

Then* lay on a cot. with her face to the South, Tbe wife of hie youth with a entile 'round ber mouth,

\ i \ tenderer belie had pealed for h*'r That-wedding morn In Xxetef,

Tbe emile that ehe were In her frethneee of charm*. When be woke in the morn and ehe elept In hie anna;

When in the Parish Church ehe stood. Upon the threshold of womanhood,

Like'the light on Twin Peaki when the day Hagert low, • • I It lay 'aeath he white halre and tinted their enow, .

' And trustfully, heartily gave bar all To the etrong young blackemlth, frank and tall;

Recognition of lore everlasting it spake. When father and mother and husband foraekel

Hia stiver watch hie thrift cosfeeeed; A aosegey smartly bloomed on J>U breast ;

"0 Oentilei I" eaid Perkins—and knelt bj tha place— I "Can your wire* die like eun, with a smile on the : facet'!. ; ..

Ilia Corniah aeoent, d**p aad queer, Like Psalmist's melody thrilled on her ear ;

" 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

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 ;"

[From tha New York Independent.] GOIHO TO BLEEP. J

A

BY ALIO! B011MXB.

' 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 . .

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

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.

" 1 am chill and blind. Let me lean once more On the breaet that receWed me eo gladly of yore!

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.

" 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!

But daddy's stockings were in them, though.

"Not all.Wt a moment of. love I *ntr**t: To hear on my threshold thaaound of bit feet,

"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.

" 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".

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 , , 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. They're gone, and the church-belle grow fttful and faint. And the sweet air, so pitiful, echou their plaint!

But a hand like a lover'* *he felt in bar palm. Arfdavoica\hit%"arb^"lng'.pVk.Tofo'f"th«c*lm ". . • .' . . v; ; " 0 weary and laden one, come untom* 1 .Tour prayar it is answered;, your love you ahall tee! I A atep on tbe gravel—a voice 1 Se ia there 1 ' By the-bedside, all brightness, One beautiful Mood, n i I'll run to the mirror and fasten my hair; • But Ihe prinu on Hit feet and His side war* Ilka . 1 For, though Johnny ia wealthy and Arty is wise, ,,,., blood. ,. ,,..: , ; . , , , . ,»tufcl9M! " ' I love somebody elae for hia laughing brown eyes. But like tha ideal ihe had wept to smbraeaLi; • - * Jh* groom of ber girlhood Ha aaamad by H 9 fac*. '

:T

•'---,S: i .

|'

TKEHABDE$r
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, When tbe tear* refute to t»U:... But the waiting time, «iy brothers, Is the hardest lime of en."» —

"

J®

Youth and love are oft Impatient, Peeking thinse beyondH&ir reach; And tbe heart grow* eiclrVtth hoping, Ere It learn* what life can teach. - Por, before tbe fruit be gathered, • We must see the bloasoma fall; And the waiting time, my brothers, It tbe hardest time of all. ' ' . '•

•

"vi I1"** \ 1

M>

Jm'r | '; *'-
mWt

7/

Loving once, and loving ever, It it aad to watch for year* Por thought whoee fitful shining 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 . Thy check is pale with many cares, 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, Whene'er I think thou may'st depart. And leave me desolate; For, as the wretcth who treads alone Some gloomy paih,iu-wlldi ubkuown, Such should I be, if thou wert gone, My beautiful, my wlfel

* > J 'J

m

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; Before dark despair would rise, 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 "*""*"

. ':'!

• -1

•''•.'• '-;• FBKjSiSTKNCS:.

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.

Became I begged 10 hard, Thla, then, li iny reward— :

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."

LOT* the wayfarer become! LOT* tbe gue*t;

No mora In itreeta of acorn. : lie turn* away lor lore— " ' 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

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.

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*.

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.

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.

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"

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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 . • •.. • . | Ho aimed It with but little art, . Yet It touched and wounded a human hi art.

t • * I '• *•*." ' •

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*?**.*tf*«£H "Shiest, was Kinged with prayer, . And he shot it forth in the yielding air. i

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:•«&

<»•.'•• r ^ ••- ••*

THBEE ACES.

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. ..

i S ° e ,*E* fo1 aim the preacher took, .Taxhe pierced turned to heaven hie upwatd look; 'Ye'tlt \ heart •tplerceda both hard and proud, ! 'TW. n «sJt in ail the crowd.

Avails it whether bare or shod, These feet the paths of duty trodT •..•"•'« • If from the bowers of Ease they fled,.' , ' To seek.Affliction's humble shed; If Grandeur'* guilty bribe they spurned, A n d home to Virtue's cot returned; These feet with angel's wings shall vie, 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,

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. I never bed sech luck afore, la any spot or place; 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 »ocialeucher." 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

.-±a-ji'»u***ii.\• j g i r V ^

ATJTUMH WOODS.

im i-*-

T H E W E D D I N G RING. {Of TBX PlUXRJffi BlIIXK.). "; ;.

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 the colored landscape II» round.> wide,.-sweep: 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 I On the green fields below. I I

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— . '• One wife in Natchez-under-tke-Hill * And another one here, in Pike. •• * A keerless man in his talk was Jim, *

FUes^stling..where the painted leaves a r e l l ^ ^ W - f f J ^ W ^ S ? ^ ' ; ' * - . ' • * ' • ' • strewnr'AncTtn^ w ^ 4n t h a f i i o ^ l i B i a d - . ' , ; Along the winding way.. i - .To tareatbiB englnfi-yelLfc '.'....y.".. .' ; -:...! -And far in heaven, "the while, , ,~Neiferbe passed on the river*.. - > .•-. The aun, that sends the gale to wander here, - ; Tojnindthl?Pilot'sBeBV- ••'' Pours out on the fair earth hli quiet smile— Ahdif. e vet the' Prairio-Bsne-tbokflre— j > The iweeteit of the year. . - .--A, fcliousandtimes he swore, Her(t hold her nozzle agin the bank Where new the solemn shade— '' Tin the last soul got ashore. -••• Verdure and bloom where maay branches meet; Be grateful,'when the noon of summer made P• . " • - The valloyg slok with heatT ' " ' All bouts- has their day on the Mlssisslp, . And her day come at hist— \ v; f\\ ....... -, . . . . . . . • . ""•TheMu\ aetar was a hotter boat,. !... i '--'.- Let in through all the tree* Come the strange rays; the foreit depths are But the) Belle she wouldn't be passed f bright! "-And 60"ahe oome tearin'along that night-—~_; Their sunn y-oolored foliage, in the breeie, . 'I'lle-oldest craft on the line, . Twinkles like beams of light, i •% . .With a nigger squat on her safety valve " ' And her furnace crammed, rosin and pine. | 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, i • And burnt ahj)l'". tn the night, "> And glimmerings of the sun. Andqujck i j a iiaah she turned, audVinade JjJre* that wilier-bank on the right. i . But'neathyon orimson tree. cursing, but Jim yelled. Lover to listening maid might breathe bis flame. There was runutng and ; Nor mark, within its roseate canopy, on*. '-*.,—•• --—•-• \ Her blush of maiden shame. ,- -. - - •we**, y " * y f f " * 1* "'m . Ovev ml the inffimal roar*. ' , • Oh Autumn I why ao soon " 111 held her nozzle agm the bmik. Depart the hues that make thy forests glad; Till tlio la-^galoot's asWt'oT' Thy gentle wind and thy fair sunny noon, ——---,• And leave thee wild and sad? Through the hotrblack ;b"ror,tU of theburnia' bonl?, -•••-• •—• -0':'. . . Ah I 'twere a lot too blest v Jim Blutlso's vi^ce was heard, Forever in thy colored shades to stray; A n d theyull had tt^st.iUjhis,cu8sedness,... Amid the kisses of the soft southwest And kuowed lib would keepr his word. :.." To roam and dream for aye; ; And, suro 's you 're born, "frio> all got oil And leave, the vain low ctrlfe Aforo the smokestacks fell—''* . That makes men mad—the tug for wealth and i And Bludso's ghost went up alone power, In the smoke of ike Prairie Jtiulle. The passions and the oares that wither life. And waste its Little hour. He were n't no snint—but at jedgment I'd run my chance with Jim, 'Longaide of some pious gentlemen THE SWING. That wouldn't shook hands with him; " IT stands, no beauty on the lawn, Ho seen his duty, a dead sure-thing— Though beautiful to me, And went for it thar and then: The rugged, crooked, gnarled, stunted, And (Jhrist aint a goin' to bo too hard On a man that died for meu. Blossoming apple-tree, J. H. I love to see it rich with blooms, OT white with feathery snow, A LITTLE LECTURE. Ripening thoughts as well as apples, Out .of the Long-Ago. SIT still, child, if you know the way, Cross your white arms upon your breast, Twelve summers up the stream of Time; Let the dark glory of your hair It seems but yesterday ; From bands escape. I made a swing from its sturdiest bough, In a morn of merry May. 'Tis wear)- always to be gay; And from it swung my love, my life, And sweet is silence, sweet is rest: In the flush of her sunny youth ; We drink the juices of despair And I wooed her shyly, won her bravely, From life's crushed grape. With all her love and truth. Why should I lecture? You are young, And now I swing another as fair, And tameless as a dragon-fly, She's nine years old, or ten, And beautiful to look upon, d she laughs, and sings and shouts, And sweet to touch. " Papa! Nothing you know of nerves unstrung. Swing me again ! again!"' nd I swing her again and kiss her. Nor can I believe that you will die, Don't kick at the stars !" I cry, And go where other girls have gone. And she crackles with laughter, and says, " I I ask too much. will, Pshaw! Flutter like a pretty bird, . If you'll swing me up as high I" Outrun the wind, outlaugh the brooks, i.Gnarly, crooked, rugged, stunted, Flout the frail ferns with flying feet, I* Blossoming apple-bough ! Outblush the rose; £1 do not know In the wide, wide world Let your young petulant voice be heard Another as fair as thou 1 Joyous through all the forest nooks. Three loves, tbree lives, three spirits of Hope, | Amid thy leaves are hidden, But where are you drifting, where—my sweet ? Ind thy fruit Is a fruit of Paradise, ! Who knows? Who knows? Pleasant and unforbidden.

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, With a voice both deep an I tender, Plighted his manhood's truth.

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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 My own dear wedding ring. 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, 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 °(

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y.fe?''' u r Passing treasure. .xiaL

TWO VOICES OK ST. V.&XEirriNE'S DAT. INDIAN

SO"'11611'

BY CLIO STANLEY.

• "«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.

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!

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.

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!

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.

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!

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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, g Not clone to the aad fields of Autumn Dost thou a lott brightness restore, 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

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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, * Aud happy sight* and sound* afar . " Bball make us young again <,{•

'•> ?-..y "$.?*• ,;••'.'"

It's long, iny love, since you and I JcjyUave 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 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-- Qreenflaldm WIIOM very tlgnt'aiiatf H**\ke The heart forget its Mlw££.'}% ' Than neW aig^-4>e glad to4&£fcL. ! tlu wind—^i-^fv. - Tbtow^orrowto 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

V

•ssrsifeS' J:^*..Vf '-••

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, The vows of others scorning, Tou whispered, " I'm pour Valentine, M . One February morning!

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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# 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 darkYet 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 victors' tntmpeU, in full pomp and state 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, Without a conscious purpose of his own la swung andllfled to the nation's throne;

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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, 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!

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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 Is" '•• 1 All tbe loves and all the grace 1 To be clasped in your embraces . Monarch'! guerdon were: V Not a man, I ween, who sees you, But would give bis life to please you, Yet yon say—that lovers teage you 1 Lady fair 1 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&

i

Miss dolly was seated beneath a pine tree, By the aide of a table spread out for her tea: g> A work-box well tilled in the center was laid, on it a ring, for which Annie had.prayed. The following poem, written by Mrs. Sophia P. And 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 red.' 1 . '.' " ; , *XL , beautiful that we hare *T«r read. It cannot fail 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, : What eare I If bank stockfails ten per cent, more 1 been riven, Hereafter I'll make it a rule, I believe,' ••-••• • That they should retire precisely at seven, To hare Santa Claus -visit us each Christmas Ere, Instead of eight; for they troubled him more So thinking, be gently extinguished the light With questions unheard of than erer before; And tripped down the stairs to retire far the night. He had told them he thought this delusion a sin, As soon as the beama of- the bright morning sun No such being as "Santa Claus" erer had been, Futrthe darkness to -flight, and the stars, one by And he hoped, after this, he should never more hear one, • '. I,y How he scrambled down ohtmneys with presents Four little bine eyes out of sleep opened wide. each year. And at tbe same moment the presents espied, Then out of their.beds they sprang with a bound, And this was the reason that two little heads And the very gifts prayed ibr were- all of them So restlessly tossed on their soft, downy beds. found. • Eight, nine, and the-clock on the steeple tolled fen ; They laughed and they cried' in their innocent Not a word had been spoken by either till then, When Willie's sad face from the blanket d{d peep, • glee, . • And whispered, "Dear Annie, Is you fast asleep t" And snouted for "papa" to come quick and see What presenta old Santa Claus'Jbrought In the "Why, no, brother Willie," a sweet roice replies, night,' '* "I'T* tried It In rain, but I can't shut my eyes; (Just the things that they wanted,) and left before For, somehow, it makes me so sorry because light. . ' . . _ » : Dear papa has said there la no 'Santa Claus;' " And now," added Annie, in a roice soft and low, Now we know there Is, and it can't be denied, ' '"You'll believe there's a Santa Glaus, papa, I For he came erery year before mamma died; know;" •• But then, I've been thinking that she used to pray. And God would hear everything mamma would While dear little Willie climbed up on his knee, Determined no secret between them should be; •ay. And perhai perhaps she asked him to send SantaJClaus And told, in soft whispers, how Axnle had said That their dear, blessed mamma so long ago dead, I here, With the sacks fall of present* he brought erery 1Used to kneel down and pray by the side of her ebair, year." - ••, .•• "Well, why tan't we pay deet as mamma did theo, And that God up in heaven had answered her • prayer I And ask him to send him with presents adenf" "I'TO been thinking so, too." And without a word "Then we dot up and payed dust as well as we tould. more And Dod answered our prayers, uow wasn't Ho Four little bare feet bounded out on the floor, dood?" , And four little knees the soft carpet preased, And two tiny hands were clasped close to eaoh "I should say that He was, if He sent you'all these, breast. And knew just what presents my children would "Now, Willie, you know we most irmly believe please. That the presents we ask for we're sure to receive; (Well, well, let him think so, the dear little elf, You must wait just as still till I say the 'Amen,' And by that you will know that 'your turn has 'Twouid be cruel to tell him I did it myself.") Blind father! who caused your stern heart to recome then." lent T "Dear Jesus, look down on my brother and me, And the hasty word spoken so soon to repent? And grant us the farer we are asking of Thee; 1 Twa* the Being wbo bade you steal softly up stairs I want a wax dolly, a tea*set and ring. 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 That Santa Claus loves us far better than he, .tintA.'I lo ^id-.n*•• I . a a j V 7 i > | }<•—' Don't let him get fretful and angry again At dear brother, Willie and Annie, Amen I" .•.One day In tlie-'blUfSt-'bPiilifninertvciHh' r, "Please, Desus.'et Santa Taus turn down to-night, Sketching under * whispering-dak, And bring us seme presents before it Is ight, I wsnt he should dive me a nice little sed,; ixbean* tSv« bobollnltekf^liltJS together With bright, shiny runners, and all painted yed; . ,jGveT.soine ornithological joieV' '• 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." ' Their prayers being ended, they raised Vp their ,(I)Vhat.Ui(3iirgti)'wasi:l Couldli't.discover— • Language .of birdsls-a riddle, oiheartb: heads, And with hearts light and cheerful again'sought Whtrt coulU titer llndilrj a*aite<weed auci their beds: .U.iVrXViClQvex . j ^ J f i l M M t l i »1>J They were soon lost in slumber, both peaceful and . .To..«pUt iJieir sides.with *uch uin.si>:;tl deep, .•' -i-i.: mirthf . ' . . t 3 .!<S»;5 ':•• And with fairies in Dreamland were roaming In /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 ' 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 "I wss harsh with my darlings." he mentally said, • Under the stone-yhll s,tcft}thy and sly? "And should not hare sent them so early to bed; ' But then I was troubled—my feelings found rent, Or^wa*'thc^qkeartf uVftie a l m y easel, 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; But, just to make sure, I'll steal up to their door, Still thej^fletf'tipsiiv;3haking all over, . For I never, spoke harsh to my darlings before." r<^Bubblhig i \Titfi*jollt^rtrflful of glee— . So ssylng, he softly ascended the stairs, deepW the clover And arrived at the door to hear both of their •While 1 s a t listening ••':WorideHiig^hatith'efr1,fa'r3il: £,iihiUs^ur'i .<;*>2 bins al u*nw> draw nigh. "I'll atone for my harshness," be Inwardly said, 'JXwas bufctbsisong otjill -Joy tlfat Is light"By answering their prayers ere I sleep in my 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. Threw on* velvet slippers and silk dressing-gown— Donned bat, coat and.boots, and waa out in the "^rrif ,eM*IJ'«9l» U» «%JM,Mfj 'c< iti.M^lngbigi «!» ua i > * v » .*;n-' From the box full of candy to the Uny gold ring; n (Pnly.bytoues can wcroliow the tune; Indeed, ha kept adding so much to his store, Jn. theJJU1 heart of the summer fields ring'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 And with Aunt Mary's aid in the nursery 'twas l>i¥Ungingjiui/ythmical gladness of June J Istowe4l:^,.....-^ T r^ K 4..,ii_d«.. _ ; . ..... A S M * A1TD WILLIS'S. PB1YEE

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i^.*."' Lucy alone at the window' Softly and cozily rooks, !. • Busily plying the needle, Dnrning ber husband's old socks ; Loving and sweet little woman, Fond of each housewifery core. No uueen in her royal palnco With Lucy in wealth can compare.

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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 As sweet, artless Lucy can feel. Skillfully plying the needle Over and under the yarn, Filling sad rents with a patience Known to those only who darn: Lucy hems in with her stitches Thoughts bright with lore as a gem, Happily toiling for Richard, The dearest and noblest of men ! Swift, and more swift flies the needle, The meshes'are filled ono by one ; At last the big holes are nil mended. The week's tusk of darning u done. BntwillOick—.ih, tlio'denrcitrcleas fallow!— Know when his wife sings and rocks, She fastens her be:irt in the stitches She weaves iu his old, worn-out socks ? T H E HTTnrBT.Tl BTJftTATi. BY 3(118. M. A. KIDDER.

There was no earthly pomp, No splendor, no display, To herald in the spotless soul Through gates of shining day I A snowy cotton robe, A coffin poor and plain, Shrouded the little lifeless form They ne'er would see again. Of all the beauteous (lowers That in God's garden grows. There lay upon the pulseless breast But one fair opening rose; And that was wet with dew, Tbe holiest that e'er fell— A mother's bitter, priceless tearsHow sacred who can tell! No grand display of woe, No crowded, bustling throng, When angels bore the babe to Join The hallelujah song. Yet there was Joy hi heaven, That through the ilelda of light One seraph more would wing Its way On pinions fair and bright.

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SE- hfle the mass art* ©fotns 33}>. Thero are lonely hearts to cherish. While the days are going by; There are weary souls wbo perish While the days are going by; If a smile we can renew, As our journey we pursue, Oh! the good we sdl may do, While the days are going by I There's no time for Idle scorning While the days ore going by; Lot our face be like the morning While the days are going by ; Ob I tho world Is foil of sighs, Full of sad and weeping eye*. Help your fallen brother rise While the days axe going by. All the loving links that bind us While the days are going by, One by one we leave behind us While the duj-s are going by; But tbe seeds of good we sow, Both in shade and shine will grow. And will keep our hearts aglow While the day* u s going by.

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BY omqciTA Come, my darling, let UB float In the moonlight, down the We w i l l dream a fairy boat'

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.

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.

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

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- 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 • 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 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 : -- 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.

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B I L L MASON'S B B I D B .

DR5FTESG.

(jilmaster's Reverie.

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• 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 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. Tb^.ai^brOTght every morning to me. , -uf 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, e'fcood-nlght and be kissed.

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,W*£ TTD2 SNOvT-DUOP,

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.

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.

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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. '

Darling, in our bearls may be Linda as fair with sun and flowers, Lying in a boundless s e a , Wrapped in quiet all the hours — Love's own quiet, deep and calm. Only thrilled with birds' glad sirigin*With an air of s w e e t e s t balm, 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, • And tlie sheeny folds of a crimson robe Lie in Ibe moonlight, silently. II. In soft white raiment that nutters and floats Over her bosom, and down to her feet. 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 wlud that blows— 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." '

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~fb» j w n M r o p i» the herald ot the flowers, :'. Sen(w1tltm:*V>u. »*^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

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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."

And Msry sat by tbe window To wait for tbe night express, An,'sir, If she hadn't a'done so 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, Bill Mason's on time to-nlgbt I 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 fillTo 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.

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„-*T~l — t W — — — MM • ~l

-** " T H E D I A M O N D ' S

Ill — Mill II

STOBT.

THE ANCELOF THE HOUSEHOLD.

BY THOMAS DCNN ENGLISH.

Qems thst on the brow of beauty, In their splendor flash and glow. From whose sunlight-smitten centres liquid rainbows ever flow, These could many a tale of wonder tell to eager-listening 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 morning 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 wheelrim wore away; There the dealers came to view me, and the burghers, young and old. And the high-born dames and stately, till one morning 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

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.

While his gifts she craved, her fancy sought a lower man than he— Sought a workman strong and rugged, all devoid of And homely ways she wreaths with grace, courtly grace, Harsh duty turns to loving zest; With the muscles of a wrestler, and a lion's grimly fare. And cbeery hope and steadfast will Rose the long down-trodden masses—cap of wool Are at her side, in work and rest; against the c r o w n Yet never dreams she you can spy Heaved the earthquake of a people, toppling fane The angel looking tromher eye! and palace down; Seed of wrong sown broadcast, growing, threw up S H E A N D I. many a blossoming shoot, Coming up to plague the sowers with a crop of Why do I love my lev* so well! bloody fruit; Why is she all in all to me! Day and night at. horrid revel, (lends in shape or I try to tall, I cannot tall, man were seen; It still ramaiaa a myiUry;' Day and night were victims wedded to the guillotine And why ta her 1 am to daar Fell my mistress: ere they slew her, :o her swarthy i I cannot tall although I try, lover she Unless 1findboth answers here ; Sent—his death In turn awaiting—as a parting She Is hanalf and I am I. token, me; He, ere dying, to a comrade, for a draught of brandv, Her face Is vary sweet to ma, Uer ayaa beam tenderly on mln*; gave What were ransom for a monarch, then went But can I say I never .saw drunken to his grave: Faca fairer, ayaa that brighter iblnal And that comrade would have followed in a little This thing I surely cannot lay fortnight more, If I spaak the truth -ad do sot He; Had not Robespierre's bitter ending opened wide Yet hers I am In love to day. the prison door. Tor she's herself and I am I. Me he looked at and remembered as the gem he 'd It cannot ba that I fulfil given away Completely all her glrllah dreams. Long before he hid from hunters bat to later be For far beyond my raal still their prey; Harold ideal sorely glaams; Some he thought of earlier pleasure, ere he used his , And yat I know her lova Is mtoo, limbs for hire. A Sowing spring that cannot dry, Ere his wealth was snatched by spoilers, ere his cas- ! What explanation! This Is fine: ties fell by tire; Sh* Is harelt and I am L But he merely shrugged his shoulders, then he sold me gold to gain I Mid all the cords by which fond hearts That would bear him o'er the mountains to a shelter I Ar* drawn together into one; safe In Spain. This it la which nav*r parts. But str*nth*ns as the yaars roll on; When Napoleon's star of glory blazing to its zenith And though, aa laaaona hurry past, rose, Grace, beauty,wlt, and genius die, When he stood, self-made, a monarch, over abject Till the last hour this charm will last; kings, his foes. Sh* Is herself and I am I. I was bought, and set with others on the crown Imperial's rim— She Is h*rt*lf and I am I. ••On the crown whose Inches never added stature Now, henceforth, ev*r more tb* sam*, unto him— Till the dard angel drawath nlgh, Him who never sought for Jewels, lu3tre to his And calleth her and m* by nam*. deeds to lend; Yes, after Death ha* don* his worst, Him who ever Bpurned such baubles, save as means Each risen soul will straightway ti y to reach an end. To meet the other. As at tvr*t Monarchs four since then have worn me—what She'll be herself, I ahall b* I. ;• •• care I for such as they ? What showed they to match In glory aught In great PATIENTIA; Napoleon's day 1 One a gross, good-natured creature, lazily lolling Toll on, 0 troubled brain, on his throne; With anxious thoughts and busy scenes oppuased ; One a senseless bigot, losing power by folly of his Era long release shall reach the*. A brief polo I own; Then—East.'. One a money-changer selfish, with a head shaped like a pear; Watch still, 0 heavy eves, One a cross of fox and Jackal, sitting in a lion's lair. A little longer must y* vigil keep! And lo I year lid* shall cios* at morning'• riie I have seen, while here In Paris, two great emperors la sleep. and their train Rise and fall; two monarcha hunted, and another Throb yet, 0 aching heart, caged and slain: Still pal** the flagging currant without ceaaa j Two republics sink and perish, and a third in peril When you a few hour* more bene pl*y*d yourpart, thrown— Comasp**c*l War and revolution round me—I unchanged, unhurt Bear up, than, waary soul I 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

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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! Thou dtest? Then with thee I die." 1 '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— , My wife and I. And as hours vanish In time's quick flight, And our life's fair morning grows tonight, As calking cares with our pleasures stay, And our heads are streaked with the silvery gray Yet shall love Increase As the days go by ; And we live for each other— My wife and I, \

_ar«u> **«•* **••• ** "

.-..'>'

gryTAnni6'8 Dream. IjjY CEMA TIIASTKR.

FIRESIDE MUSINGS.

RIGHT.

Low to myself I said the word; BY HELIX A Y l n S PAQE. V l j H A ^ o h d e r yon, Kittery A n n i e , With deeper thrill through voice and will It rang* as with a shoutl " m t l d l T y o u . i t in the s u n . The wind without blew loud and shrill, Much power was in it to be heard. R o c U t f g t i i e chair before y o u , And whistled away with a heartr will; And from tbat hour my soul grew still, While your work lies all u n d o n e ?" . 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; . Little Annie turned to her mistress. Cheered on and on by the welcome sound A force to wield on deadliest field. " I think of my dream," RIHJ said ; Of the hammer, that, wleidec In mirthful haste, Which be who grasps shall feel " I t lies on my mind the l i v e l o n g day, Told of the nuts that we soon should taste; As if his hand had drawn a sword, . And triumph were forestalled and sealed A weight as heavy as lead." And as they fell in the waiting pan, W ith the first battle-peal 1 My thoughts In a musing channel ran; " W h a t dreamed you. K i t t e r y A n n i e ? Tor I saw in the nuts a type of raan. A royal word I a conquering Word I I'll telljyon ray thoughts as they came to me then: Come tell your dream to m e . " Which none could speak with lips so weak The first that I noticed was large and fair. " 0 , 1 thought I could not hear your voice, But straight tbey should grow"strong; And the hammer tell with instinctive care, As if, unknowing, they had heard For the thundering of tlio s e a . 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 ! " F r o m east and west and north and south • Just such have I known in dally life, A soul that seemed with goodness rife— It gathered fierce and fa«t, The grand word I Ihe eternal word I Who walked among his fellow men Given us whereby to glorify A n d ragged about the quiet h o u s e As one whom naught could lead to sin; This dally work and oare. A n d reached the door at last. Bat when temptation's hammer loll. Building our temples to the Lord — I; sounded a solemn funeral knell • After the heavenly house on high Of human hope in that man's truth; Where tbe city lies four-square. " A n d just ss if it raised n hand For it showed thot from his early youth, And struck an angry b l o w , Like the worthless nut, the shape alone And straight and perfect lives do grow— A great wave beat against the d o o r , — Whose imago is in form of His— Was there, but the goodly kernel gone. From heavenly bight to bight. Another showed, in the fair outside, Then silence seemed to g r o w . " So let the will be done below; A tiny hole, that n pin might hide; " D i d no one an«wer, A n n i e , O Duty, It needs only this, But we looked within in vain for good, And thou art named Delight. f o r a worm had made the nut his food; That awful knock at the door ?" So one whom a father's hand bad led, " N o ; waves were still, and winds were still, iiVA l'ENSEUOSA. And a mother prayed by his childhood's bed, And I heard nothing m o r e . " Sweet lips spart, Had welcomed the secret tempter to sin, Why poiif-ively wreathing?' And the worm of destruction had entered in; Cheeks with deep ruby T h e mother thought of her b o n n y sons, And the heart, that once was pure and fair, Bow sunset is bathing! Bmb'ti is thy bosom's glee, And there crept to her heart a chill, Was lost for aye in the fatal snare. Which heaveth Bleepily, Another shell was so large and thick A n d ever »he thought of the r a v e n i n g sea, Murmuring, lite the sea, That the hammer's blows fell strong and quick, With u low breathing. A n d the dream that boded ill. 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, " 0 . is it my bonny boys it s e e k s , But so little room was left for the meat As their ailes of diamond Are rising or siukiug— Lashing the home around? That it ©tiered a fast, instead of a treat. How twites that silken trass Or is it their comrade, tried and true, And who has not seen its human type, In tbe small hands' caress! What dreamy anzels W' as In the man with fortune's favors ripe; Must in his prime be drowned ?" Thy spirit's thinking? Whose gold, and land and worldly care, Have crowded out the gem more rare— Now bashful Echo, W i t h his clear gray e y e s and g o l d e n beard, With many-toned reed, A generous heart and noble mind. Is heard all abroad, Like a strong young king of the. sea, That greets with mercy all mankind? To eaoh voice ghing heed; But all of our nuts were not of thi3 sort, . The younger came, and, " M o t h e r ! " he said, Through the dusk coming night Seem'at thou a thine of light, Or else our pleasure had fallen short; " 0 mother! listen to me." Smiling upon the blight For though these worthless ones I saw. Of Sorrow's seed. They followed by no moans the common law; She answered him with a sudden c r y : There as thou leanest For the pan was filled with a goodly charge In latticed recess, " Our friend is g o n e ! " h e s a i d , 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. " 0 mother, our comrade, tried and true, May thy love aye endure! And some lull thin, that yielded quick A t the foot of the rock lies d e a d . Be thou holy and pore, The good that was bidden; nor could I tell, A? a fountain sealed sure' V th' wilderness'. . (Though I had watched and notid well), " T h e breaker cuffed his s h i n i n g head Or those that were left the false from the true. And struck him from the l i g h t ; A CHINESE LOVE SONG. And as I thought of the men I know, A n d with a hundred arms the w a v e s I might not say of the hidden hearts BY R. B. STODDARD. How many were those like the larger part Swift drew him out of sight. Of the nuts—a full and perfect whole— A happy, sin-free and God-loving soul; Now tbe wind la softest, " O, darkened are his kind b l u e e y e s , But well did I know that the day would come Lighter now the shower, T h a t were so fair to s e e , When Jesns should call this earth to its doom, And in an hour the barren boughs And still and cold the ready h a n d s Andtbese shells of bodies should straightway fall Begin to bud and flower. And tho hearts stand alone, of one and a l l T h a t worked s o faithfully." 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. Sore mourned the younger brother, As to the arch of yonder bridge B u t the elder did not speak ; The mists of morning cllag. TO A C H I L D . H e bowed his head upon his breast, Pitiful the miser. W i t h the salt tears on his cheek. 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. A n d no vo'ce had the mother So barren and so cold I Vet ere we part, one lesson I can Iwte you ' F o r her heart that beat s o w i l d , No, I love thee, sweetest, » For every day. And tbe wandering dove— B u t wistfully ber eager e y e s I send her with a sigh to thee, Be coed, sweet maid, snd let wbo will be clover; '"• Embraced each sorrowing c h i l d ; Do noble things, nor dream tnem, all day long ; A little verse of love. it'.'J, 5*$"" • And so mak» life, death, and that vast forever, ' " Oo count the silken tresses , A n d as she saw from the w i n d o w s One grand, sweet song. That hang on yonder tree; t t s ^ T h ^ breakers flash and g l e a m , GHABLM KINUSLEI. So many are my loving thoughts, ' Sbea.huddered afresh at the w a r n i n g And so they cling to thee I" ( j [ i S « r y , A n n i e ' s dream.

i!

MHHHMI

ft^r"*--' OTJT OP THE OLD HOUSE, MNOI

•a

H« tiro n&iRsu. ^SHPSKsL • ' Here . « » W

And the old ihintwiU seem to be a mourning all the while.

»T WILL M. CABLITOJt. [tut the old house, Nancy—moved up Into the new: ^&il the hurry and worry are just u good at through! Only a bbunden duty remains for you and I, And that's to stand on the door step, here, and bid the old J, house good-bye, ~; :' p • What a shell we've lived In these nineteen or twenty years! 1 Wonder it hadn't smashed in and tumbled about our ears: f Wonder it stuok together and answered till' to-day, Bat every individual log was put up here to stay.

F a r e y o u ^ W n o u s . ! your'e naught that *£<*%»»> But youseevn like a human beuig-a dear Mfriend tome And we never wiU have a better home if my flj^*"*^, Until-we commence .aieepiu'house in the house not maoe ~i»k wA..a. . - . - • ' '.'..• _ . .. . __ - . withhauoA-"

Things looked rather new, though, when this old house was ' built, And things that blossomed you, would've made some women wilt; And every other day, then, as sure as day would break, My neighbor Ager oome this way invitin' me to "shako." | And you, for want of neighbors, was sometimes blue and sad, • For wolves, and bears and wildcats, was the nearest ones you • But, lodkin' ahead to the clearin', we worked with all our might, Until we was fairly out of the woods; and things was goin right. , • Look up there at our new house!—ain't it a thing to see 1 Tall and big and handsome, and new as new can be ; All in .apple-pie order, especially the shelves, I And hover a debt to say but what we own it all ourselves. • Look at our old log house—how Uttle it now appears! 'But It's never gone back on us, for nineteen or twenty years; • An,' I won't go baok on it now, or go to pokin' fun, There's such a thing as praisin' a thing for the good that it has done.

\

I Probably ^ou remember how rich we was that night, When- *e was fairly settled, an' had things snug and tight: i We feels* proud as you please, Nancy, over our house that's ! niw,: ' But w~e feel as proud under this old roof, and a good deal prouder too.

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; tie has trampled out the vintage where the grapes of wrath were stored : . . . . . He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible qdick sword: His truth is inarching on. Cnonrs— Glory glory, hallelujah, 4c. I have seen him In the watch-fires of a thousand circling camps; They have builued him an altar in the ovonlng dews and damps; I have read his righteoui sentence by the dim and Marin* lampa; 1IU day is marching on. I have read a fiery gospel writ In burnished rows of steel; "As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal; Let the hero, bom of woman, crush the serpent with his heal, Since God Is marching on." j He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat, He Is. sifting out the hearts of men before his Judgment seat; Oh, be swirt, my soul to answer him! be jubilant, my feet! Our Qod Is marching on. In the beauty of the lilliet Christ was born across the sea, With a glory In his bosom that transfigures you and m«; Ashe died to make men holy, let us die to make rasn free, While God is marching on. Caoavs. —Julia TTord How*. MIDSUMMER.

. Never a handsomer house wo* seen beneath the sun, Kitchen and parlocand bed-room—we had 'em all in one; And the fat old wooden clock, that we bought when we come .1 -West, " . . * • . Was tickiu' away in the corner, there, and doin' its level beet. Trees was all around us, a whispe'rin' cheerin' words, Loud was the squirrel's chatter, andsv.eet the song of birds; , And home grew sweeter and brighter—our hopes began to I '• mount— t ". >• • A n l things looked hearty and happy, then, and work appeared 1 to count. And here, one night, it happened, when things'woe goin' bad, . We fell in a deep old quarrei— the Cat wo ever had; And when you give out aud cried, then I like a fool give in, An' theuwe agreed to rub all out and start the thinij sg'in. LHereit wasyou remember, -vo sat when the day rat' c! mo, EAnd you was a n1.1V.i7.' DUCilng that uamt/or either one; . (And of iehv'n soft *Wd 0; love I was sort enough to say, f i n d the wolves was howli:;' in the woods not twenty roil., away. ; Theri'our flrst-boru baby—1 regular little joy— Though I fretted a liule, because it wasn't a boy ; Wa'n'tsho a Utile liirt, though, with ait her puut3 and smiles') Why, settlers come to see that show a halt a dozcu miles.

1

Yonder sits the enidle—a homely, home-made tiii.-.g ; And many a night 1 rocked it, providiu' you wouid siug; And many a little squatter brought up with us to stay, And so that, cradle, tor many a day, was uever put away.

v

'How they kept a comin', so cunnin' and fat and small! How they growed! 'twas a wouder how we found room or 'em all; • But though the house was cro,vucd,U empty seemed that day. When Jennie lay by the utvpuee), there, aud breathed hlr life away. And right in there, the preacher, with Bible and hymn-book \ stood. I " 'Twixt the dead and the living;" and "hoped 'twould do us good," : And the little whitewood coffin on the table there was set, ; And now, as I rub my eyes, it seems as if I could see it yet. 1 Then, that fit of sickness it brought on you, you know; Just by a thread you hung, and you e'en a'inost let go ; '• And here's the spot I tumbled, an' give the Lord his due, : When the doctor said the fevor'd turaed, an' he could fetch ' you through. Yes. a deal has happened to make this old house dear; Christenin's, funerals, weddiu'zi—what haven't we had herel Not a log in this buildin' but its memories has got, And not a nail in this old Uoor but touches a tender spot. Out of the old house, No .lo'y,—moved up into the new; 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

And present gratitude Insures the future's good, And for the things I see,. I truet the things to be; That In tha paths tin trad, And the long days of.Ood, My fast shall still be led, My heart be comforted. 0 living friends who love ma 1 0 dear onus gone above met Careless of other fame, 1 leave to you my name. Hide It fiom Idle praises ; Save It from evil pbrasaa ; Why, when dear lips that spake it Are dumb, should strangers wake it * Let the thick curtain fall; I batter know them all How little I have gained, How vast tha unattaioed, a Not by the page word-painted last life be banned or sainted : Deeper than written scroll Tbe colors of the souL

,.

Sweeter than any sung My songs that foundnu taugue; Nobler than any act My wish tuat failed of fact. Others shall sing the song, Others sball tight thewrons— yinieh what I begin, And all I fail of win.

. O h , softly on yon banks of haze Her rosy lace the summer lays I Becalmed along the azure sky, The -argosies ol woodland lie, —Whose shores with meny shining rift, Far on* their pearl-white peaks uplift.

1.

The astor-flower is falling, The hazel's gold Is paling; Yet overhead mors near The eternal stars nppear 1

BY J. T. tr.OWlUllDOI.

:

What matter, I or thay * Aline ur another's day, So the right word be said Aud life thoswaeter made?

Hail to the coining singers! Hail to the brave light bringer*'. forward I reach and share , All that they King and daro.

Through all the long midsummer day The meadow sides are white with hay. I seek the coolest sheltered seat •Tust where the field and forest m e e t Where grow the pine trees taU and bland, The anoient oaks austere and grand, And frlnzy roots and pebbles fret The ripples of the rivultt.

The airs of heaven blow o'er nte A glory ahinea before me Ofwhat mankind shall be— Pure, gonerous, bmto and froe.

I watch the mowers as they go Through the tall grass, a white sleeved row, With even stroke their scythes they swing. In tune their merry whetstones ring; Behind the nimble youngsters rnn, And toss the green swaths in the sun; The cattle graze; while, warm and still, Slopes the broad pasture, bnska the lull. And bright, when summer breezes break, The green wheat crinkles like a lake.

As silently, as tenderly. The down of peace descends on me, Oh, this Is peace! I have no need Of friend to talk, of book to read; A dear companion here abides; Close to my thrillinz heart He hides; The holy silence is His voice; 1 lie ana listen, and rejoice.

TBIUMPH,

The autumn time has come; On woods that dream of bloom, And over purpling vines

Around this lovely volley rise The purple hills of Paradise.

The butterfly snd the bumble bee Come to the pleasant woods'with me; Quickly before me runs the quail. The chickens skulk behind the rail. BIgh up the lone wood pigeon sits, And the woodpecker pecks and flits. Sweet woodland music sinks and swells, The brooklet rings Us tinkling bells, The swarming insects drone and hum, The partridge beats his throbbing drum, The squirrel leaps among the boughs, And chatters in his leafy house. The oriole flashes by; and, lookl Into the mirror of the brook, Where the vain bluebird trims his coat, Two tiny feathers fall and float.

MY

at jott.v 0. wHiTTisa.

H Y M N OF T H E R E P U B L I C .

.*

A dream of man and woman Divining but still human Solving the riddle old, Shaping the Age of Gold. Tha love of God and neighbor An ec-ual-hauded labor; The richer life, whore beamy Walks hand iu band with duty. King, bells in unreared steeple*, Tha joy of unborn peoples. Bound, trumpets far off blown, Your triumph is my own! Parcel and part of all, I keep the festival, Yore-reach the good to be, And share tho victory. Ifeel tho earth move sunward, 1 join the great march onward, And take, by faith, while living, My forehold of thanksgiving. if.'''- w

It,..

.

_

DOMESTIC BLISS. Domestic happinesa, thou only bliss Of paradise that has survived the fall I Thou art tho nurse of virtue. In thine anus She smiles, appearing, as In truth aha is, Heav'n-born, and doetined to the skies again. -Oowp
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 ?

frllE'

BT JK1H IKO»LOW.

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 .

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*

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.

F o r g i v e r.je if t h e l o v i n g W s s * * 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 .

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 Ran up and waihed it while they fed : 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.

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 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.

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 . j 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 Aud tiny bods, that lie asleep " r • On hill and field, her summons hear. . 1

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,"'.:' ' 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. »/~

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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.'

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 .

" 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.

' T H E VOICES OF T H E S E A - B I R D S .

• R A T E R - OF^TIDJ TilOTEED'i

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The oold is not in crag, nor scar, N or in the snows that lap the lea, 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 1

*" 7^

' Otthi!ttiriairnT 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 Sli ci' t:'i' Jf veitra tl*V il .iili Luve's vaJae ',' »' * r . . - J •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 Ami rliu Him eia icj^L.up Ui 1l1n.11 eje) K- i,i,; , , J 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_ i ICiiw t u n JUiveT'e'.pteti'e'draws.iieiir;''^'"-'' " •' '" And,tii« linivcnnj! us-^'^iu>.'i.^-jii' - **- rf-m mt+aj^w > i u e r t M *«•#•* •tuoinents * f ' * " V " * ^ tlat'pert aH»*B»y S/a* il».atij:,^'iii Ar6(.cnd;oai.ii) hupa^mij (oar.a \ , 1 v' 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,,' " MgKWSSwSf ' Set Alonn %-lth Cf ,.'.,i.'i lie heau'tAinxbawtDie] «r]^i"J-o.ftf; 'i *l|a»i»j»it»<j 4iiBljg5lWa J rx'VJs'aaii ,

I

3T

mymfe't^pi*m*

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

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There was the human chattel Its manhood taking; There, in each dark, bronze statue, A soul was waking! The man of many battles, With tears his eyelids pressing, Stretched over those dusky foreheads His one-armed blessing.

' %s •^v«*'^fcXp? *"*•--•'

SFHING. .Then Dame Earth bares all her charms, 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 beesAnd 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. -Grralil Mtucy'i "SitHatt of Babt Chrittabtl.

TBE

F1BE

BY

THE

lUT ALICS CART.

Fold the cold abrend on her bosom,.... i N Lift her. with lasting and mirth, , ,,'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'-,'

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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 sunlightWhy 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 momentPshaw! 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 slowThough 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.

SEA.

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.

TIIKKE were seven fishers, with nets in their hands, And titer Walked and talked by the sea-side sands; Yet sweet as the sweet dew-fall The words they spake, though rhey spake so low. And he said: " Who hears can never Across the long, dim centuries flow, Where tna^tc roses bju*tf"Mi Fear for or doubt you : In [he evening's guld-u l'*iit, And we know tlrem, one and all— And the air is iadea with ira^rsnee Aye! know thtm aud love them all. What shall I tell the children f rmn the lilies' sUver while.. Seven sad men In the days of old. Up North about you ? " And one was gentle, and one w»* reold, Tim iFen with their waving brutiches, And they walked with downward eyea; Murmur a Niry song, Then ran round a whisper, a murmur, The bold was Peter, the gentle was John, Ami tUe bruoklet merrily d^U'-es And they all were sad, for the Lord was gone, Some answer devising; As it ripples and dances along. Aud they knew not it he.would riseAnd a little boy stood up: " Massa, Knew nut if the dead would rise. A nl louder, enchanting lovo songs Float - n the balmy breeze, Tell 'em we're rising.' " Tho live-long night, 'till the moon went ont And tbe heart's unspeakablo longing In the drowning waters, they beat about; By their music is set at ease. Beat slow through the fog their way; O black boy of Atlanta! And the sails drooped down with wringing wet, Would that my sl'-ps could teach And no man drew but an empty net, But half was spoken : That happy fiowery stand ; And now 'twas tho break of the day— For all ray earthly afllictiuns The great, glad break of the day. The slave's chain and the master's Would cease in that fairy land. " Cost In your nets on the other side"— Alike are broken. (Twas Jesus speaking across, tho tide)— Oft in my dreams 1 ta* it, The one curse of the races And they oast, and were dragging hard ; In its glamour bright aod fair, But that disciple whom Jesus loved But with daylight's ear iest glimmer Held both in tether: Cried straightway out, for bjs heart was moved: It vanishes into air. •' It Is our risen Lord— They are rising, — all are rising. Our Master, and our Lord 1" A P R E S E N T SAVIOR. The black and white together! Then Simon, girding bis Usher's coat, BY Jor/N o. Wurman. Went over the nets and out of the boatAye ! first of them all was ho; 0 brave men and fair women! Repenting sore the denial past, ' . We miy not clime the heavenly stoops Ill comes of hate and scorning: He feared no longer his heart to east To bring the Lord Christ down; • Like an anchor into the sen— . Shall the dark faces only In vain we jearch tbe lowest deeps, Sown deep In the hungry sea. For him no depths can drown. Be turned to-morning? And the others, through the mists so dim. In a little snip came after him. Cut warm, sweet, tender, cvon yet Make Time your sole avenger, Dragging their net through the tide; A present help is he, All-healing, all-redressing; And when they had gotten elose to the land And -faith has still its Olivet, '•.:'•; They saw a Are of coals la the sand, Meet Fate balf-way, and make it And love its ftatilee. ' '•' ' • And, with arms of love so wide, A joy and blessing ! Jesus, the. ojuclfled 1 The healing of the seamless dress • •. Tts long, and long, and long ago Is by our beds of pain; ••'..• — ATLANTIC MONTHLY for March, Since the rosy lights began to flow .1 We touch him in Life's throng- aud piess. O'er the hUlsof.QaUlee; ; i n it a s . " " """'I*.*' And with eager eyes and lifted hands Atitl wo are wholo again. . , .>,:. i The seven Ushers saw-on the sands" Birds are singing round my window, ,.... .Voir Through him the first fond prayers ore said The Are of coals-bv the sea— Tunes the sweetest e'vor heard ; r < -.; , •.«••,: On the wet, wild sands by the aea v ' And I h a n g m y c a g e (here dally, i .-j v , V Our lips of childhood frame; .! But I never catch a bird. ^ •. ,;,-•[ » lth The last low whispers of our dead iI&£2S§19*i m our souls a k m U a d J u 8 t y«' '* Aro burdened with bis natno. So with thoughts my brain Is peopled, iT n a °y tna' A" of ooala st i »tieamedo'er the mists of t h e j e a ; -•: And they sing there all d a y l o n g : . • •'•* •*'<•* •'"' »™, 0 Lord and Master of us all! I But they will not fold their pinions, --dw -i>t •* I ^ L T ^ 8 . , ' * l r d m 6 ui » Cher's "ont. >v In. the I. tue cage «f song I isliqt *•' .Went over tbe nets*nd out of tho boat, What'ar our namo or .•i™ x nawer .' — -—.•«». i : _ i i " W . i \ M > ( •'• TSrf '' "'Lov'at thou me 1"

T H E WALL,

BALDER'3

1 1-Jitatelr<''«H nK •«, ' y ^ e h u i g doora ; HagW the celling high,

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.

. '.,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.

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.

. 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

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.

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?

WIFE.

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 Amid the now mown hay, Or proudly aid with vigorous arm His tasks as best they may.

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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.

BY SUSAN COOMDOB. MY SIRS. MART BOOTH. -'

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.

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.

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"Home la home, DO matter whtrsP Sang a happy, youthful pair, 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 brookSee 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 frownElsie 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.

DV O. W. nOI.MES. 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 * A D e n d t o m o r t a l 'lun.'s. 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 Ot A u t u m n ' s b u r t h e n e d w a i u , — 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 . A n d knoweth well to w a i t 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 . If s o It need m u s t h e . 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 Old e m p i r e s o v e r t h r o w n . — 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 , 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 , B u t he shall care for all,— I t m a y be, m u s t bo,—yes, he s o o n s h a l l tire T h i s hand t h a t h o l d s t h e l y r e . T h e n y e w h o listened In t h a t e a r l y d a y W h e n to m y c a r e l c v i l a y 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 , With u n t a u g h t rurtcft skill 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 T h i n as til* locust s i n g s W h e n t h e shrill-crying child of S u m m e r ' s h e a P i p e s from hirt l e a f y s e a t . T h e d i m pavilion lit e m b o w e r i n g g r e e p Beneath whoso shadowy screen 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 g a i n s t the sang-!i;rd'3 t h r o a t . A n d all t h e e c h o e s listen, but iu v a i n ; T h e y hear no a n s w e r i n g s t r a i n , — 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 Shall sadly turn a w a y , 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 T h a t w a r m e d our blood ><( o l d ; 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 . A n d let us s t r e t c h our b u n d s O v e r a briglttor a n d fie..|;-kimllcd ilanie; Lo, tlii.- is line the s a m e . T h e j o v o u s dinger uf oar uiot n l a g t i m e . F l u s h e d high with l u s t y r u y i i m ! S p e a k kindly, for he b e a r s a h u m a n heart,— B u t w n i s p , i- ll:m apart.— Tell h i m the woods fhfii? A u t u m n robes h a v e s h o d A n d all t h e i r uiru.s iiuvo l i e d . A n d bhoiiting w i n d s unbuild the n a k e d a o s t s T h e y w a r m e d with p a t i e n t bivasi-a; Toll h h u the. - k y is dark. ' ic s u i i i i u u r o'or A n d hid h i m s i u g n o m u r e ! A h , w e l l n d a y ; if words so c r u e l - k i n d A listening ear might liuil! B u t w h o [hat hears the music, Iu his SOU) Of r h y r h m i c w a v e s t h a i roll 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 Stir all tho d e e p s below Till t h e great pearls un c a l m m i g h t eve,r r e a c h L e a p g l i s t o n i u g on thu b e n c h , — 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 , T h o rush t h r o u g h h e a r t a n d b r a i n , 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 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 riast s e t Mis pul.-c aflame. 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 A l a s ! and UIIHK it be I 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 T h o m i g h t y bards Imvn u m i a : 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 A n d purple rubes uf xullg; V e t t h e BliifUl lllitl.-lrcl loviw tr.o s l e n d e r t o n s H i s lilts m a y call his o w n . 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 i m e d by hi* purse's h e a t , 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. Say not I ijsi iuni w r o n g . 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 III l u t u s - g r o w i n g m e a d s 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 That till their suUis w i t n d r e a m s . 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 ! 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 But testes that wit-hing load. 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 . A n d link* tho tlifU-iie* u o g . V e n t s iiii e x i g u o u s riiir't, attd ii'om ills u c s t F l a p s u::u::: •; g r i v i . i o i , .-erauibUng d o w n To w.i-.i ,:.e *- . 1 --,;rt l o w u . Still kMKWiliiil of i'ee ,-:-.-i:u a m i b i l l o w y w a s t o Whose .-ait lie- l o e g s to ruhfe, E i ' i Mis wnrai jVavo its c h i l l i n g oii.^p m a y feel, 11a., t w i r l e d tUl) lUllhjf'.* Wheol.

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 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 I t r a c k e d the Hying M u s e : 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 With r o s e a t e h u g e r - i i p s ; 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 With till! n e w c h o i r s of S p r i n g : 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 Aud thrill m y s o f t e n e d l a y . 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 Fur w h o m a b r i g h t e r auu 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. Aru not all g a r n e r e d hero I 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 , All g a t h e r e d here ! a i l ! nil 1

! Their dainty garments are rich aud rare, Tkeir faces are fair to see, A n d the golden d e a i n of their s h i n i n g hair Is I right us a crown might he ; A n d many a stranger s t o p s to smile s i the. picture, warm and bright, Tho beautiful children, looking out On the dark and stormy night. I l . - L O O K I N G IN. With tattered garments, and faces thin, Abroad in Ihe bitter cold, Tho poor man's children arc looking in Through the curtain's crimson fold. j Tho bleak wind l o s s e s their rags in scorn, 1 Their feet aro aching and hare, I While they gaze at Iho beauty aud light wtthiu, And tho children's faces fair.

j

I think, us I hasten olong tho street, Ot the beautiful home above Where tho rich aud tne poor alike will m e e t , •And share in the Father's love. T h e Lord will open tho s h i n i n g door, And gather l i i s near ones in. Tho rich, with their soil and dainty rohos, Aud tho poor, with their garments tain. F E N I A N

MABUIAGE.

T H E E V E OF ELECTION.

TWO PICTl/aE8. DT EMIIY HCTTTDtaTOtf MILLKlt. I.-LOOKING OUT. E o s y and worm the (Ire light falls. In the rich man's home,"to-night, Ou the pictures hanging against the walls, And the children's faces bright. They have parted the curtain's crimson folds Away from the window biirh. And their eyes look ont at tho whirling s n o w . And the dull and stormy fky.

i

TBUE

Let mo not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love li not love Whieh alter* when it alteration finds, Or bead* with tbe remover to remove ;—. 0, no, it in an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and la never 6hakea It is the l u r to every wandering bark, Who-e worth's unknown,'a!though his hlgbtbe tsk Love's uot Time's fool, though rosy I ips aud cheeks Within uia bending sickle's compass come I 0T " * altera not with his brief hours and w « e t t But b«*n it out ov'n to the edge »f doom " J W l be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man over loved.

SONG.

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 Ha'li s a d and s i l e n t lain, "iShail sound a g a i n within those

wails,

To Freedom's lofty strain ;

BY JOHN « . W U I T T I E K .

From gold to fray one mild sweet day Of Indian Summer fades too soon; But tenderly above the seal Hangs white and calm the Hunter s moon. In ita pale Ore the village spire Shows like the zodiac's spectral lance: And painted walls, whereon it falls. Transfigured stand in marble clay. O'er fallen leaves the west wind grieves. Yet comes the seed-time round sgain ; And morn shall see the B u t e sown Iree With baleful tares or healthful grain. Alone the street the shadows meet Of Destlnv, whose hands conceal The monlds of fate that shape the Stale. And make or mar the common weal. A round I see the powers that be. I stand by empire's primal springs, And princes meet. In every str' et. And hear the tread of uncrowed kings. Hark! through the crowd tbe laugh runs loud, Beneath tbe sad, rebuking m o o n ; God save the land a carele-ts hand May shake or swerve e'er morrow's moon. N o Jest is this: one cast amiss May blast tbe hope of Freedom's year: O ! take m e where are hearts of prayer. And foreheads bowed in reverent fear. Not lightly fall beyond recall The written scroll a breath cau float : The crowning fact, the klngltest act Of freedom, Ls the freeman's vote. For pearls that gem a diadem. The diver in the deep sea "lives: The rpgal tight we boast t'-n'clu Is owned through costlier sacrifice. The blood of Vane: b h prison pain Who traced the palli the pilgrim trod: And hers whose faith drew strength in death. And prayed her Russell up to nod. Our hearts grow cold: we lightly hold The right which brave men died lo gain: The tire, the cord, the a x , the sword, "irirn nurses at its birth of pain.

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, O: martyrs wilh voar crowns and palms. Breatho through these throngs your battle-songs, In m u s i c o n tiie g a l e , Your scaffold prayers and dungeon psalms. 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. Thou solemn moon wilh searching beam. Willi ?oug3 of I n u i s f a i l ! Till In the nightof thv pure light 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'. Hharae from our hearts nnworthv arts. T h y sun is v a i l e d , H o t set ! T h e fraud designed, tne purpose dark: And smite away the hands we lay 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. S i i a . l w a k i in initiator y e t ! To party claims and private aims, • T Reveal that august face of truth. 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. The beauty of immortal youth. A n d iiy I h e s i l v e r y L e e , 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, 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. A spirit stirs w i t h i n t h y blooil — It .-hall j i o t s t r i i c e a m i s s ! It f e e l s '.he s t r i f e h c y o i c l t h e

flood

T i l t parts t h y shore from

this.

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 , B y m a n , ' a hi.I a n d f e n , 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 * T h e y spring- u p a r m e d m o u ! From Antrim to the Southern l a k e s , From T r a l e o to Klltlare, One s i l e n t s p i r i t w a l k s and w a k e s T h e l i o n In h i s l a i r ? F r o m Arraghmore'3 far s t o r m y To Carlow mil

Thou rises!, giant-like, Arise!

steep;

Kin?ale, from si-'ep ;

s t r i k e lloiflv!

prov.r.'.!

'Tlio A i i t i e ] . „

i-ationce.

Bosklo the tallstiniy -.vay. T.Giieiv and dark by fruits aWI flowers unhi^st, Which my ,vorn ,'i-ot :rtmj ^iuly, day by -la), UHiJS'Ug iu •*aia for rust. An augol softly w.ii'i«. With i-alo .!~eet fstht, auu ey 4 scajt tneokit down, Tho -viiilu, frem withered l.mVei auu Ihcverlctt slaiks, She weavtij my n u i u - crown. And iweet aud Bailout ^.ac \ A. look of arm ondurance, t r it -j and triad, Uf suffering isonkly burns, leaia on k&r lacs— So pure, so jlorlfied, And when my faintins: heart Jfeprtondf and murmur* at ita atttarM fate, Xiien -piietly thuanafvi'a bright iip-t 'iari, Whispciia- iof!ly, "Wait I" "raiienco."' she iW.'8l!y ini'L— "Tha Father's mercies HOYCM- ennju :o,> i i t e (iird thee with patiiri t .strength and m u t i n g faith, And iirm uuduia:...-j_,va;::'' Angel I l.ohold, I wait, Wearing the ihoruy srowil Ihrilldll aii ii.'c'i hrsr.i— Wiit till ihy hand shall open ,h-.. eternal salo, Audcbang-.i the I!,,.IIIH lo Ih.wera. — .''.la Fruni^ii:>:n

l'i:ntt.

I.

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

Their joy was a joyful thing to see; Their weariness sad as sad could be.

ITTTLB Nellie Adele De Lcs Denier Bad Just attained her thirteenth year.

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''

For the children were cross, I must confess; Hut the party you'll own was a grand success.

Fair as &flowerwas the face she wore, Sweet the expression Of love it bore.

A

The heart was fall of childhood's gold, A» fall us a birthday heart could hold.

The sun's ray6 never were half so bright, Dazzling ber eyes with golden light;

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

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?

The blue 6ky never so blue before, The earth a whiter robe ne'er wore;

; l

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.

And l i e birthday festival was to be A party as gay as party could be. Already the hangers had come with

KIDING DOWK.

The glad light faded from eyes of blue. And voices were weak and weary too.

THE CHILDREN'S PAETY.

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

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; stealth; I can see thein running to ind fro. And the sunbeams come, and the sunnef-Tis go, The calla, majestic, towered grandly on high ; ' But on no prettier eight have thev resiec. I know, Than this, to-day. The pale crocus sighed, "Oh, pass me not by"; "Yet call cot these life', happiest days, •While Nellie Adele De Les Denier When I hey are gone ; For ail life it happy, if Uved aright, Was the sweetest flower that blossomed Thus childhood ano manhood shall bcflh be bright. Ana shine each day with a fairer light, there. At tic years roll os. '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,

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.

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.

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.

Aud did yon hear the drum's gay beat, The drum's gay beat, the bugles sweet, The.cyiDliale chub. the. cunuun's crash, 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... \
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.

I-

All the west was fall of glory, •' 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-

NOVEfliBER.

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!

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.

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!

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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.-

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
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.

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,

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.

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.

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.

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.

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* In which they lived and died.

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.

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,— Too wild to be united ; 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.

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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 ?

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.

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 !"

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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. 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

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?AfKER PAUL. 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

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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; 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.

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: - • 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 BECBETAnd 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' ' * 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 For-hislrer girts thy being bore y, •'..!, 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, oam t^Ert.*?**1fV * «' 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

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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, , Cuddling ber babe In her knotted shawl, . Lulled by the croon of a lullaby. ' ' '•' " 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^

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 BBWhat *im.) il LB* What song Will win j'onr fancy, dear, •viiii ixiuvM your heart to singAs 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 '••

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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. Till tre are moved to weep 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 ' * Wlmt ntwd to ask, the straits. That youth to youth will bring; • Lore it bos ever sung

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' "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." 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.

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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.

''May sh'e'have-her dolly, ; Cradle, and all that 1 And the Noah's Ark, Mamma, • And the squeaky cat?

. 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.

" Bnt I though t the 'man'dinent Bald,. No play must he. "'"' . Doesn't that mean little1 girls— Only boys, like me>" - **;. * '* •

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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—

" Do yon see the lammlet, How they frisk and run t And the dear Lord of ns all Made them, every one,

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.

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* Wh»i osn Babydo" at home T •** 1» It Wong; to play With her rattle and her dram, •. As on every day ?

" Listen, little questioner 1 Po yon hear the birds Singing hymns in all the trees, Without any words ?

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.

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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.

Jim gadi can go to church,' ' Baby is W s m a l l > r i : : '

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

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 !

- Only to listen—listen a i d wait

" In the steeples un; ^ ? ; l~• /

'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. •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

And then her sleeve came down, and I Bweet Maud thinks 'twill always be summer! fastened If up—her hands were doughy; Ob, It did take the longest time, Her partner Is equally sane; Her arm, Ned, was so fair and snowy 1' And, fearing to meet some chance comer, She blushed, and trembled, and looked thy; Somehow that made me all the bolder ; Close-locked, they glide oat of the lane. Hor arcb/ilps looked so red that I— Well-found her head upon my shoulder. 0, sweet is the scent of the clover, •. The year strikes its opulent noon; We're to he married, Ned, next month, Cotuo aud attend the wedding revels. Tet blot out but love and the lover, I really.thing that bachelors1 '' Are the most miserable devil*! . , ;A- And where is the beauty of June ? 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. ''-' ?.'••

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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. 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 cannonBrave hearts from Severn and from Clyde, And from the banks of Shannon. They sang of love and not of fameForgot 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 speakYet, 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. Andonee again a Are ofholl 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'*

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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. Say not In deep dejection, , £ ' l lku. : ' . BT W. 8, H U M 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. have found him!"!7T, A T a pleagaDt evening party, I bad taken down-to rapper One whom I will call ELVIRA, and w e talked of love and To u s th* earth's bright glory, And I beard toe gentlepieman l a the road behind me Th* glittering heavens above, TUPFER. 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*. •oup'* MbilUngl" I dealing, : f o r I've always been distinguished for a strong'poetlo B u t until I reached ELVIRA'S house, I never, never Think not that I despise thee, feeling. Thy faithfulness decry, waited, Oh I dearer far I prize thee T i e n we let off paper oraokers, each of which contained And ELVIRA to her FERDINAND 'S irrevocably mated. Than aught beneath th* sky. a motto, And the listened while I read them, till bar mother told AN E M B L E M . 7st pause in indecision, ber not to. Com* not too near I pray, What ii ray IIilie sweetheart Ilk*, d'yon say Then she whispered, " T o the ball-room w e bad better, Or tby fond fancy'.-t vision - - -.j A simple question, y«t l b hard to answer; dear, be walking; Will surely fade a«ay. Hut I will 1*11 yo.il Iiiraystammerlngway If we stop down here muob longer, really neoele will be The best I coo, sir. • talking." * Th**, al I my fault* detected, When I was youag—that'* n*lth*r h«r» nor there— I sink in grief and shameThere were noblemen In coronet*, and military oonslns, I read, and trading roads my eye-lid* (listen; Not what thy hope* expected, There were captains by tho hundred, there were baronet* Hut I'll repeat the story, If yen car* Not what thy merits claim.. . b y dozens. To stay and llet».,y . ».» .„ - , „ •• -1 Some fairer, wiser maiden . . .,. .. ~s a* sfs * * *r •#•. •* * •-* a •' Tet abo heeded not their offers, but dismissed them with • blessing; A wild rose, born la * modest glen, Will charm thy wandering eye, Then she let down all her back hair, wbloh had taken And sheltered by the leavoa of thorny boshM, Whilst I, with lorrew laden, 1 long lu dressing. Drooped, being commended lo tbe *JM of men, Must cast mo down and die. And died of blushes. Then she had convulsive sobbings In her agitated throttle, 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. ritoH THZ an>u* or JCSTIK* zsaxza. •• Mow, if there were, and on* Buy wall suppoM Tbero never was a flower of inch ran splendor, Be I whispered, " S e a r ELVIRA, say—what oon the matter In the Emperor's hall at banquet Much lees a rudely minuted wildllog'rose, • be with yon. la Worms, that goodly town, Withal no louder— .y . ... Doe* anything you've eaten, darling P o p s r , disagree Bat many a mighty German prince lint lay there were; what is a rose the lets, — with, you 1" Of ram* and high renown. >•• When all from uut to west tbo May 1* biasing, That any tuneful bard her face should miss, Tben she smiled upon the carpet, a t the oeillng, then And each one proudly boasted AM ('»• bar. praising I '•-•'•-.•.above me, Of his land, wealth and power, Yet say there did, and that bar heart did break, '•' And i b e whispered, " FEUDIKAMDO, do you really, reallu Of hi* fair dames and gall int knights, As telle tbe romaDC* of my early reading, ' 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 Sir, are you needing.'— Then uprose » noble Saxod— her sweetly— Aye, say then were, and tbat eh* ipant her day* ••. Of hi* country's wealth be told, For I think I do this sort of thing particularly neatly— 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 3w**t-h*art*d, shy, and strange to all tbe art may know, lu its vineyard* 'sparkling win*.'" •••I Of your In* ladle*. l a it up the Algbest Andes I down a horrible volcano I" "Many a rich city ha* my land," i Butane said. "U isn't polar bears or hot volcanic grottoes. So tender, tbat to death she needs most griers, Lewis oi Bavaria cried; Only find out who It Is that write* these lovely cracker Stabbed by the zlancea of bold *y», is certain;. "It 1* rich in wealthy duster* mottoes." Take you ibe emblem, than, and giv* me l**v* To drop "the cVrtal a. * ~~g T ** •-»••»--»« And great in power and arid*." P A R T II. " 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

Ulster TorPBR, S o you write the bon-bon mottoes tor ELVIRA palls at sappert" B u t H E N R T WADSWORTH smiled, and said he bad not

hod that honor: And ALFRED, too, disclaimed the word* that told so much upon ber. MUter MARTIN T o r r e n , Poet CLOSE, I beg of y o u Inform ua;" B u t my question seemed to throw thorn both into a rage J enormous. ' Mister CLOSE expressed a wish that be could only get anlzb to me, And Ulster MARTIN TOPPER sent the following reply to me ;— m

A fool I* bent upon a twig, but wise men dread a bandit," Which, I know, was very clever; but I didn't understand it*

Beven weary years I wandered—Patagonia, China, Norway, Till at laxt I sank exhausted at a pastry-cook his doorway. There wcro fuchsias and geraniums, and daffodils and myrtle. Bo I entered, and I ordered half a basin of mock turtle. j H e was plump and he wo* chubby, he was smooth and !i he was rosy, j And his llttlo wife was pretty, and particularly cosy.

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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. And I said, " 0 , gentle pieman, why so very, very merrv t Is it purity of conscience, or your une-iind-1 wen ty sherryt

B u t be answered, " I'm so happy—no profession oould be dearer— I f l a m not humming "Tra! la I l a ! ' I'm singing 'Tirer, lirerl' "First I go nnd make tbo patties, and the puddings and tbe Jellies, Then I muke a sugar birdcage, which upon a table swell - 1*! t "Then r polish all the sliver, which a supper-table lacquers; i Then I write the pretty mottoes whlob you And inside tbe cracker*"—

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Then Wuttamburg's loved prince arose, And stroked hi* flowing board, And looked on all the noble throng As non* sivs (lod ho feared;

H I B C H I G N O N O N U T 'SHOTJXDEB. One dark end dreary winter day, ' When snow-drifts wer* fastly melting, And 'gainst the window's dewy pane The soowy flakes were pelting. Beoesth the bright gal' genial blue, As outer blasts grow colder, I was seated by my Maggie's sid*. With her eAignon on my shoulder.

; "My land bas no rich cities, I No aiauatalo* rsined with, gold, And yet it holds a treasure. Whose wealth can ne'*r be told.

°~

In its dark and gloomy forests, Or where it* mountains frown, I can risk my deanet treasure, Or trait my lift and crown.

I headed not the storm without— Within he sun was shining ; Th* eland* of lira wer* lifted, then l e j f thai silser limnK ; And a* my darling sweetly smiled. My throbbing kuart grew bolder, I dreamed, a* I bad uerer dreamed, - With Utrehifnon on my shoulder. I dreamed of riches and of fans* Acquired by honest labor; A name to live when I am gone, And wraith to help my neighbor ; I dreamed, too, of a happy iiuuie, Where growioz old and oluer, Her Hill* hand clasped close In mine, Her cAi'gxen on my shoalder. Tbe tide of years wilt bear us on; Our paths are nndirarging; No frosts of tins* can blast the bad, Nor frees* the lor* that'* surging; And uol until each heart-throb cease. And dust to'dust shall m.dilsr, 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 . '

_

Mr wealth Is In th* loyal hearts, Which can ne'er be bought or so'.d, i My power is in th* trusty swords, And not in paltry (old." i

Then cried they all together: "Your wealth is far abov* Our richest land or proudest boast— You bar* your country* lor*."

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mosa. s r OSTIUM s i e t i i .

. . ,

The tree's early leaf-bad* wore bursting their brown; "Shall I take them away I" said the frost, sweeping : down. I "No'; l*ar* than slons .. Till th« berries *r* grown," .. I frayed th* Tree, while he trembled from rootlet to crown. i The Tree bore blsbfosaoms, and all th* birds snng: "Shall I take them away?".(aid the Mind, as he swung. ' "No; loar* them alone Till the berries hare grown,'" Said th* Tree, while Its leaflets quivering hung. Th* tree bore his fruit in th* midsummer glew ; Said th* girl, "May I gather, the berries or no I" J"Yes; all thou canst see Take ibem all; all tor thee," Bald th* Tree, while be bent down, hi* laden bough* | low. i —JVswi >trn«. a tale of JWswgsan lift,by Bjonuon. J

How many thoughts I give thee I Gome hither on tho grail, And If thoul't ceunt unfailing The green blade* ai We pasi, Or th* leaves that ligh and tremble To lb* sweet wind of th* west, Or lha ripple* of the river, Or th* sunbeam on Its breast, I'll count the thought! I give the*, My beautiful, my best. Bow many Joyi I owe thee ! Cone sit where seas run high, And count the halving billows That break on the shore and die— Or th* grain* of sand they fondl*, When th* itormi are overblown, Or th* pearls In th* deep-ie* csrerns, Or th* stars In lb* milky son*, And I'll count the Joys I owe the*, My beautiful, my own. And how ranch lor* I proffer I Com* scoop th* ooean dry, Or weigh In thy tiny balance Th* star-ships of th* sky ; Or twin* around tby flngen Th* sunlight streaming wide, Or f*ld It In thy bosom, While the world Is dirk beside ; And I'll tell how much I lore the*, My beautiful, my bride I

Jzx

•ti*JLY

THE PUREST PEARL.

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 doorWiped 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.

[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.

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.

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.

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.

.

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.

~

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*.

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

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.

^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, Mary0 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. MaryAnd lis* bat that hand to me.

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.

•

I T H E I / A T I N G O F T H E A T L A N T I C OJ

And henceforth there shall be no chain, Sure underneath the aea, The wire* shall whisper through the mala, Sweet tonga of Liberty 1

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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 .

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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, 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.

«5ft)»;,

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

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, GOOD-NIGHT For thy face, lore, ia bathed In the moonlight gleam. And ct aid my kisses like stream circles rite * Good nigh't—good-ulght ! 'Jo dip on Iby dimple* and tpreed round thine eyes! Dear old grandmother! Hew her prayer Tht hour of parting brings the boar of dream* And ohl to be lost on anight auob aa tbia Quickened the tar of Eternal care! Be thy sleep calm and deep, In tne arms cf an angel like tbee— I And, with only a warning pain. A spell of down on silken eyelids laid ; Nay, alar but a momeu", one moment of bliss, Els angel gatbeiad her aoul train Bstw.eo our pillows distance only SMOIS, And smlie but fbrglrcuee* to me I To those legion? lair. And darkaet* I* ** * trauipartut shade, MaryAnd sweetest tpteche* silence* inclose. Ob, amile but forgireneaa to me. Like rose*' perfume folded in the rose— Bleated 1* It for her to a'.eep ; 0 rowing intent* at slltnco deeper grows: Can It be wring for oa to weep f— Nobody, sweet, can hear our aigbal Good-night I W* who loved uar to well snd know Thy voice just comes on the sort air and dies. All the worth of ber loving, too, Doat Ibou gate on the moon* I hare gax'd, aa I And bar wisdom deep. rote, Good-night—good-night! Till I thought If haabrealh'd Heaven's bleating on These parting words are but a tender cheat: She was aged ard knew the way lore i For still wt know that wuetber we may go Toothful leet wt re inclined to stray: Till I're stretched oat my arm*, and my tears hare Beyond arm's reach, or wide as worlds apart, " The young are giddy, and they moat learn begun, i Tagsthtr w* shall ihrob at tech beart-t>*al; 01 bard experience era they torn," And nature, and hearen, and thou eeem'd but one. Thrilled by the same electric dart, She would gently say. Adii it, my sweet Mary; the moon's in the west, Shot from tbe aroa-gud's arched bow, And tne leares thine with tear-drops like thee. ; Through either botom'a wall of snowHappy grandmother! Would that we So draw In tby charm* aud betake thee to reat, Forever and fortvtr be It to! Sfurtt share with you the myatory O thou dearer ikun life to me, Good-night! or that Beyond, where a thought or tin Mary— —OverUtiul Monthly. Merer, oh I never can enter In i ' Thou dearer tbtn life to me. Tnrough eternity. ^ M £ I ^ •M.*kA.-Js-: - U - ~ — . . . ..... MaUni , VgSsfin?

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ftp 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.

MY LITTLE BOY.

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— , 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.

i

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 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.

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, / He turns to me his tiny face, 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 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' . 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.

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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, (Jo seek her, happy wind so free, And kiss her foldod hands ror uiv. Across this dome of sllont air, On tie- of floating ether bear T0

1 Th.' 1 dIty hka" 'J" "'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.

&s for.

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THE CHTLDEEF8 PASTY. NO.

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An' what are ye doin' wid Pat's ragged hat, Yeraelf all a-bhivcr an' yer hands all so red?" "Ocb, mother, say nivcr a word till Vm through, And sec what u grand, lovely sight I shall make; For the hat on a platter, wid an icicle through, An' frosted wid snow, will make triddin' cake. Bhure, I saw one no better in a winder uptown. Thinks I to meself, I can take Pat's ould bat And frost it sll over the rim and the crown— Wld snow and wld ice make it finer 'an that I'll kapc it out bore in the could till tbey come; And then it won't melt, yc know, mother dear." " Whist, Kitty, my darlint; come In an'git warm. I'll langh till I die, the child is so queer." Tbey were ready at four, with their party so grand; The guests were in time, expectant and gay; And you may be sure in all our broad land No children were brighter or happier than' they.



JJf EVERY DJLT 80NQ. BT io»XTUitt roixi.sn.

Every day brings its work; XOUNO Fat Malone and ills sister Kate Every day brings its sorrow ; A grand entertainment decided to give. Trouble and toil to-day. Be pUoocd.it all out of hit frowsy pate, Trouble and toll to-morrow. And tent for the friends that nearest did lire: Ever from early morn, Bed-headed Fete and his Cousin Jane, Unto the day's declining, Teddy and Toro and Nelly Gray; Sorrow will east its cloud, Dlek with his freckles and Biddy Lane Bight where the sun was shining. Were to be there at four the very next day; Every day 'tis the same, For Kate and Toting Fat were master bands Waking, working, and sleeping) 1 , ToOTrprUeJherabble of Ragged Row—. 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. Every day is our sky From beds of straw at break of day 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 Lifting ns out of repining. To the mother, who ironed for Mrs. Cook. Every day in the strife " Now, Patrick, he good the blessed dny, Many a soul engages; And Uk' fine care o' yer sister Kate, Every day brings its work, Wbin I git home, ve'll have ycr piny, . And every day brings its wagon. An' shore I'll thry not be very late. Every step that we take, Ate yer pertater and swape the room, Nearer the end is bringing; Kape yourselves lookin' nate an' clane, Yet every day of onr lives. An' stay in-doors till I'm name at noon, We go mourning—instead of singing. Nor be after playin' with the byes in the lane." "JIMV~ A SIMPLE TALE. 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 CIITJMShe turned away from the cellar-door, As long sLc love J another. While Kaly smoothed over the tumbled bed BAT there! P'raps Life was to hi u i c. u?!l domain; Botne ou you chaps And Pat used the stump of a broom on the He was to her » brother. Might know Jim Wild I floor. Well—no offense*: Thar ain't no sense When w;ll of love l.e '.uged and spake, " Now, Kitty, my darlint, you git the whole In git tin' rliedl 'iears on L c oyc'ids glistened ; sheet, Jim was my chum The hear, his wooing Strove to wakeAnd out of this baril a table I'll make. Upon (ho Bar I Forsook hirn w.ii;o sue listened. We'll kiver it over so white an' so neat; That's why I tome Down from up yar, Whilst the mither's away swatc comfort Thus in a muiual Iwc-fold search Lookin' for Jim. , we'll take. Thank ye, sir! Ton Each dec, e.- led the other; Ain't of that crew— I'll put in the middle a brave chandelier, Sue was his wealth, his law, iiis church ; Blest 11 you aro I Hade from a titer wld a match in the end; He was to her a brother. Money t—not muoh; An' them bits o' tin we got from the pier That ain't my kind; God took him in his early years, ' Will to our feast a brave glamor leud. I ain't no such. «l--.sv Ere half his yiuth had (lowered. Rami—I aon't mind, This plate shall be Biddy's, because 'tis .the * * -* Beein' it's you. Then she beheld him through her tears best, Well, this yer Jim, WitU the heart's saints embowered. And she's like the sun, wid her laugh all the Did you know hips 1— Jess 'bout your size; day; Time on her heart's high daring smiled, Batne kind of eyes!— And little I care what becomes of the rest, And blooming bridal made hor, Well, that Is strange; Why, It's two year For they're neither fair at work or at play. And, clinging to a throe-hours' child, Binoe he earae here, And Kitty, my darlint, you'll sit like a queeh In the low furrow laid hor. Biok, lor a change. At the head of the table to serve out the Well, here's to us I But to my sight doth crowned appear feast— Eh! Each faithful, fond endeavor ; The h—you sayl The purtiest hostess that I've ever seen; DeadlBalph called her his one happy year, They'll all say that same, from biggest to That little cusst And Herbert his forovor. least. What makes you star— F:om Mrs. How's " Later Lyrics." And here is the orange-peel, gathered the day You. over (bar I Cant a man drop Mine. ~~ We walked in tlicpnrk, sofineand so grand; 'a glass In yer shop We'll have it forswatemates now in our play. But, you must rat*I : EI 0 1 0 . HOWUNt. It wouldn't take Be jabers, 'twill be the best feast in the 1) muoh to break The sun his beams noun freely down land." You and~youx bar. . On hill aid valley,fieldand tows; Thus talking and planning, the morning slid Bnt there'! one kindlv little ray. Dead I Thar through my lattice loves to itray. on; Poor—little—Jim I —Why thar was me, The mother was back from her work by In gardenlfilledwith fragrant Holers Jones aud Boh Lee, W» wander through the shady bowWa; mid-day, Harry aud Ben— But one tweet blouom in the grass, .' No-aocount men t With a basket of fragments the table upon Look! softly at me u I pan. f< Then to take him! And her hardly-earned wages stored snugly The gushing clouds distill their rain Well, thar—Good-by— away. To gladden many a thirsty plain; No more, sir—I— * *' But 'neath t be tiny leaf concealed, Eh1 " Arroh, now, is yer party most ready,my Pat ? One smiling drop lies half revealed. What's that yon say 1— Well, open the basket and see what is there. Why. dern it I—shol— Tbe woods and groves resound with notes Not Yea! ByJol I tould Mrs. Cook just what we were at. •A That warble from melodious throats; Sold! And she stuffed it all full of things nice an' But one sweet songster folds his wings, Bold I Why, you limb, And close beneath say window sings. ' *T * , rare: You ornery, Deru'd old • i Fame often spreads her wings to soar Chicken bones, wld a plinty of mate stickin' . LouB-leitKcd JimIrr _ _ In noisyflight,the wide world o'er; on; But glidty tarns tbe listening ear, CAPITAL PTJ*riSHMENT7~ One joftly whispered word to hear. Cookies, nice whole ones, and not very ould, Old Master Brownbrought his fenili, down An' an apple apiece—them's given by John, His face was angry and red ; That kindly ray for me Itill shine ; "Anthony Blair go ait you there. Her son, a fine bye, so brave an' so bould. That look,, that smile, that tone be mine; Among the girls," he said. By that one word let me be blest, Now, Kitty, come here. What would ye be at, And let who will take all tbe rest. So Anthony Blah-, with a mortified air, A freeziu' to death, out in the ould shed f And his head bung down on bu breast, Went right away aud sat all day By ths girl who loved him best.

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