"For when he went off it's so sick was the childer She niver held up her blue eyes to his face; And when I'd be cryin' he 'd look but the wilder, An' say, 'Would you wish for the counthry's disgrace?' "So he left her in danger, and me sorely gratin', To follow the flag wid an Irishman's joy;O, it's often I drame of the big drums a batin', An' a bullet gone straight to the heart of me boy. "An' say will he send me a bit of his money,

For the rint an' the docther's bill, due in a wake; -
Well, surely, there's tears on yer eye-lashes, honey!

Ah, faith, I've no right with such freedom to spake.
"You've overmuch trifling, I'll not give ye trouble,
I'll find some one willin'-O, what can it be?
What's that in the newspaper folded up double?
Yer Honor, don't hide it, but rade it to me.

"What, Patrick O'Connor! No, no, 'tis some other!

Dead! dead! no, not him! 'Tis a wake scarce gone by.
Dead! dead! why, the kiss on the cheek of his mother,
It has n't had time yet, yer Honor, to dry.

"Don't tell me! It's not him! O God, am I crazy?
Shot dead! O for love of sweet Heaven, say no.
O, what'll I do in the world wid poor Daisy!
O, how will I live, an' O, where will I go!

"The room is so dark, I'm not seein' yer Honor,
I think I'll go home" And a sob, thick and dry,
Came sharp from the bosom of Mary O'Connor,
But never a tear-drop welled up to her eye.

-M. A. Dennison.

OUR FOLKS

"Hi! Harry Holly! Halt!- and tell
A fellow just a thing or two;
You've had a furlough, been to see
How all the folks in Jersey do.

It's months ago since I was there,-
I, and a bullet from Fair Oaks;
When you were home,- old comrade, say,
Did you see any of our folks?

"You did? Shake hands,- O, ain't I glad;
For if I do look grim and rough,
I've got some feelin'-

People think

A soldier's heart is mighty tough;
But, Harry, when the bullets fly,
And hot saltpeter flames and smokes,
While whole battalions lie afield,
One's apt to think about his folks.

"And so you saw them when? and where? is he hearty yet?

The old man

Or does she seem to pine and fret For me? And Sis?-has she grown tall? And did you see her friend

That Annie Moss

-

you know

(How this pipe chokes!)

Where did you see her? — tell me, Hal,

A lot of news about our folks.

"You saw them in the church

- you say;

It's likely, for they 're always there. Not Sunday? no? A funeral? Who? Who, Harry? how you shake and stare! All well, you say, and all were out;

What ails you, Hal? Is this a hoax? Why don't you tell me, like a man, What is the matter with our folks?"

"I said all well, old comrade, true;

I say all well, for He knows best
Who takes the dear ones in His arms,
Before the sun goes to the west.
The axe-man Death deals right and left,

Fair Annie blooms no more!

And that's the matter with your folks.

"See, this long curl was kept for you;
And this white blossom from her breast;
And here your sister Bessie wrote

But in my throat there's something chokes,
Because, you see, I've thought so long
To count her in among our folks.

"I s'pose she must be happy now,
But still I will keep thinking too,
I could have kept all trouble off,
By being tender, kind, and true.
But maybe not.

She's safe up there,
And when the Hand deals other strokes,
She'll stand by Heaven's gate, I know,
And wait to welcome in our folks."

-Mrs. Ethel Lynn Beers.

AULD ROBIN GRAY

When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame,

And a' the warld to sleep are gane,

The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my ee,
When my gudeman lies sound by me.

Young Jamie loo'd me weel, and socht me for his bride;
But, saving a croun, he had naething else beside.

To mak that croun a pund, young Jamie gaed to sea;
And the croun and the pund were baith for me!

He had na been awa a week but only twa,

When my mother she fell sick, and the cow was stown awa;
My father brak his arm, and young Jamie at the sea
And auld Robin Gray cam' a-courtin' me.

My father cou'dna work, and my mother cou'dna spin;
I toiled day and nicht; but their bread I cou'dna win;
Auld Rob maintained them baith, and, wi' tears in his ee,
Said, "Jenny, for their sakes, oh, marry me!"

My heart it said nay, for I looked for Jamie back;
But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a wrack;
The ship it was a wrack! Why didna Jamie dee?
Or, why do I live to say, Wae's me?

My father argued sair- my mother didna speak,

But she lookit in my face till my heart was like to break;

Sae they gied him my hand, though my heart was in the sea; An auld Robin Gray was gudeman to me.

I hadna been a wife, a week but only four,
When, sitting sae mournfully at the door,

I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I cou'dna think it he,
Till he said, "I'm coming back for to marry thee!"

Oh sair, sair did we greet, and muckle did we say;
We took but ae kiss, and we tore ourselves away:
I wish I were dead, but I'm no like to dec.
And why do I live to say, Wae's me?

I

gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin;

I daurna think of Jamie, for that wad be a sin;
But I'll do my best a gude wife to be,

For auld Robin Gray is kind unto me.

-Lady A. Lindsay.

JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO

John Anderson, my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonnie brow was brent;
But now your brow is beld, John,
Your locks are like the snaw;
But blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson, my jo.

John Anderson, my jo, John,
We clamb the hill thegither;
And mony a canty day, John,
We've had wi' ane anither.
Now we maun totter down, John,
But hand in hand we'll go;
And sleep thegither at the foot,
John Anderson, my jo.

Robert Burns.