And whilse I'm no musicianer, when my blame eyes is jes'

Nigh drowned out, and Mem'ry squares her jaws and sort o' says

She won't ner never will forgit, I want to jes' turn in And take an' light right out o' here, and git back West ag'in

And stay there, when I git there where I never haf to say I want to hear the old band play.

James Whitcomb Riley.

DR. GOODCHEER'S REMEDY.

Feel all out of kilter, do you?
Nothing goes to suit you quite?
Skies seem sort of dark and clouded,
Though the day is fair and bright?
Eyes affected, fail to notice

Beauty spread on every hand?
Hearing so impaired you're missing
Songs of promise, sweet and grand?

No! your case is not uncommon-
'Tis a popular distress;
Though 'tis not at all contagious,
Thousands have it more or less.
But it yields to simple treatment,
And is easy quite, to cure;
If you follow my directions,
Convalescence, quick, is sure.

Take a bit of cheerful thinking,

Add a portion of content,
And with both let glad endeavor
Mixed with earnestness, be blent;
These, with care and skill compounded,
Will produce a magic oil

That is bound to cure, if taken
With a lot of honest toil.

If your heart is dull and heavy;
If your hope is pale with doubt;
Try this wondrous Oil of Promise,
For 'twill drive the evil out.
Who will mix i Not the druggist

From the bottles on his shelf;

The ingredients required

You must find within yourself.

Nixon Waterman, in “In Merry Mood."

HANCOCK, THE PATRIOT.

During the siege of Boston, General Washington consulted Congress upon the propriety of bombarding the town of Boston. Mr. Hancock, a distinguished merchant, was the President of Congress. After General Washington's letter was read, a solemn silence ensued. This was broken by a member making a motion that the House should resolve itself into a committee of the whole, in order that Mr. Hancock might give his opinion. upon the important subject, as he was deeply interested,

from having all his estate in Boston, which estate was very large and valuable.

After Mr. Hancock had left the chair, he addressed the chairman of the committee of the whole in the following words: "It is true, sir;

nearly all the property I have in the world is in houses and other real estate in the town of Boston; but if the expulsion of the British army from it, and the liberties of the country, require their being burnt to ashes-issue the order for that purpose immediately."

Vol. II, Cyclopedia Commercial Anecdotes.

THE CRY OF THE DREAMER.

I am tired of planning and toiling
In the crowded hives of men;
Heart-weary of building and spoiling,
And spoiling and building again.
And I long for the dear old river,
Where I dreamed my youth away,
For a dreamer lives forever,
And a toiler dies in a day.

I am sick of the showy seeming
Of a life that is half a lie;
Of the faces lined with scheming
In the throng that hurries by.
From the sleepless thoughts' endeavor,
I would go where the children play;
For a dreamer lives forever,

And a thinker dies in a day.

I can feel no pride, but pity,
For the burdens the rich endure;
There is nothing sweet in the city
But the patient lives of the poor.
Oh, the little hands too skillful,

And the child mind choked with weeds!
The daughter's heart grown willful,
And the father's heart that bleeds!

No, no! from the street's rude bustle,
From trophies of mart and stage,
I would fly to the woods' low rustle
And the meadow's kindly page.
Let me dream as of yore by the river,
And be loved for the dream alway;
For a dreamer lives forever,

And a thinker dies in a day.

John Boyle O'Reilly, 1844-1890.

IF I WERE KING.

If I were king-ah love, if I were king-
What tributary nations would I bring
To stoop before your sceptre and to swear
Allegiance to your lips and eyes and hair;
Beneath your feet what treasures I would fling:-
The stars should be your pearls upon a string,
The world a ruby for your finger ring,

And you should have the sun and moon to wear,
If I were king.

1

Let these wild dreams and wilder words take wing.
Deep in the woods I hear a shepherd sing

A simple ballad, to a sylvan air,

Of love that ever finds your face more fair;
I could not give you any goodlier thing

If I were king.

Justin Huntly McCarthy.

THE EMPIRE SHIP.

I have sung my songs to the stately ships that are sailing the Seven Seas,

But today I sing of a ruder craft that laughed at the lulling breeze,

Of the "Prairie Schooner," quaint and slow, with its dim and dusky sails,

A phantom ship from the long ago, adrift in the grassgrown trails.

Westward ho! Westward ho!

Out where the winds are sweet and low
And the grassy cradles swing and sway,
The star of empire takes its way,
Westward ho!

Ere the bellowing steed of steel and steam had startled the timid deer,

Where the curlew whistled its plaintive call to the gray grouse nesting near,

Through the fair, fresh prairies, hushed and hid, where the wild wolf made her den,