"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 vapor 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 o'er the hills, and far away
Beyond their utmost purple rim,
Beyond the night, across the day,

Thro' all the world she follow'd 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.

Author unknown.

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.

JOHN WESLEY'S RULE.

"Do all the good you can,

By all the means you can,
In all the ways you can,
In all the places you can,
At all the times you can,
To all the people you can,

As long as ever you can."

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 Gold would rhyme-
If I had the time!

If I had the time to learn from you
How much for comfort my word would do;
And I told you then of my sudden will
To kiss your feet when I did you ill-
If the tears aback of the bravado

Could force their way and let you know-
Brothers, the souls of us all would chime,
If we had the time!

Anon.

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.

MAMMA'S DIRL.

Ev'ry night when shadows fly
And the house-work is put by
And shut-eyed I sit and dream
Of the light on some far stream,
Of the blooms I used to know
In some field of long ago,
Then I wonder wearily

If the present holds for me
Half the joys of other days,
Half the gladness of old ways,
And sometimes my eyes are wet
With a half forgot regret;
Then comes romping in to me
And up-clambers on my knee
Such a blue-eyed laughing sprite
And puts weariness to flight;
Such as makes the present seem,