THE DEPARTURE.

And on her lover's arm she leant,
And round her waist she felt it fold,
And far across the hills they went

In that new world which is the old;
Across the hills and far away
Beyond their utmost purple rim,
And deep into the dying day
The happy princess followed him.

"I'd sleep another hundred years,
O love, for such another kiss;"
"O wake forever, love," she hears,
"O love, 'twas such as this and this."
And o'er them many a sliding star

And many a merry wind was borne, And, streamed thro' many a golden bar, The twilight melted into morn.

"O eyes long laid in happy sleep!" "O happy sleep that lightly fled!" "O happy kiss that woke thy sleep!" "O love, thy kiss would wake the dead!" And o'er them many a flowing range Of vapour buoyed the crescent bark, And rapt thro' many a rosy change, The twilight died into the dark.

"A hundred summers! Can it be?

And whither goest thou, tell me where?"

"O seek my father's court with me,
For there are greater wonders there.”
And c'er the hills, and far away

Beyond their utmost purple rim,
Beyond the night, across the day,
Thro' all the world she followed him!
Alfred Tennyson, in "The Daydream."

LITTLE BY LITTLE.

Little by little the time goes by

Short, if you sing through it, long, if you sigh. Little by little-an hour a day,

Gone with the years that have vanished away.

Little by little the race is run;

Trouble and waiting and toil are done!

Little by little the skies grow clear;

Little by little the sun comes near;
Little by little the days smile out,
Gladder and brighter on pain and doubt;
Little by little the seed we sow
Into a beautiful yield will grow.

Little by little the world grows strong,
Fighting the battle of Right and Wrong;
Little by little the Wrong gives way-
Little by little the Right has sway.
Little by little all longing souls
Struggle up nearer the shining goals.

Little by little the good in man
Blossoms to beauty, for human ken;
Little by little the angels see
Prophecies better of good to be;
Little by little the God of all

Lifts the world nearer the pleading call.

HOW DID YOU DIE?

Did you tackle the trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?

Or hide your face from the light of day

With a craven soul and fearful?

O, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it,

And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that?
Come up with a smiling face.

It's nothing against you to fall down flat,

But to lie there-that's disgrace.

The harder you're thrown, why, the higher you bounce;
Be proud of your blackened eye!

It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts;
It's how did you fight-and why?

And though you be done to the death, what then?
If you battled the best you could,

If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.

Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce

And whether he's slow or spry,

It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts.

But only how did you die?

Edmund Vance Cooke.

ADDRESS AT GETTYSBURG.

Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it far above our power to add or detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be

here dedicated to the great task remaining before us, that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion; that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain; that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people and for the people shall not perish from the earth.

Address of President Lincoln at Gettysburg, Nov. 19, 1863.

IF I HAD THE TIME.

If I had the time to find a place
And sit me down full face to face

With my better self, that stands no show
In my daily life that rushes so,

It might be then I would see my soul
Was stumbling still toward the shining goal-
I might be nerved by the thought sublime,
If I had the time!

If I had the time to let my heart
Speak out and take in my life a part.

To look about and stretch a hand
To a comrade quartered on no-luck land,
Ah, God! If I might but just sit still
And hear the note of the whip-poor-will,

I think that my wish with God would rhyme—
If I had the time