But at his feet his child lay bound, He stooped and kissed the little face; "I will not leave thee by thysel', Ah, lad; this is thy father's place." So Self before sweet Love lay slain. Older than mortal man is old For though they urged him o'er and o'er, And when some weary days had passed, The man had touched a noble death, LILLIE E. BARR I LITTLE DORA'S SOLILOQUY. TAN'T see what our baby boy is dood for anyway: He don't know how to walk or talk, he don't know how to play; He tears up ev'ry single zing he posser-bil-ly tan, An' even tried to break, one day, my mamma's bestest fan. He's al'ays tumblin' 'bout ze floor, an' gives us awful scares, An' when he goes to bed at night, he never says his prayers. On Sunday, too, he musses up my go-to-meetin' clothes, An' once I foun' him hard at work a-pinc'in' Dolly's nose; An' ze uzzer day zat naughty boy (now what you s'pose you zink?) Upset a dreat big bottle of my papa's writin' ink; An', 'stead of kyin' dood an' hard, as course he ought to done, He laughed, and kicked his head 'most off, as zough he zought 'twas fun. He even tries to reach up high, an' pull zings off ze shelf, An' he's al'ays wantin' you, of course, jus' when you wants you'self. I rather dess, I really do, from how he pulls my turls, Why-why, zat's him a-kyin' now; he makes a drefful noise, I dess I better run and see, for if he has-boo-hoo!— Felled down ze stairs and killed his-self, whatever From St. Nicholas. s-s-s'all I do! So speaks the heart, When each to each repeats the words of doom; For better and for worse, We will be one till that dread hour shall come. Life, with its myriad grasp, By ceaseless love, and still expectant wonder; Till God in death shall part our paths asunder. Till Death us join. That to the broken heart breathes hope sublime And shattered powers We still are one, despite of change and time. Death, with his healing hand, Shall once more knit the band Which needs but that one link which none may sever; Till, through the Only Good, Heard, felt, and understood, Our life in God shall make us one forever. DEAN STANLEY. SYMPATHY. A KNIGHT and a lady once met in a grove, While each was in quest of a fugitive love; A river ran mournfully murmuring by, “Oh, never was knight such a sorrow that bore!" Oh, never was maid so deserted before!" "From life and its woes let us instantly fly, And jump in together for company.” They searched for an eddy that suited the deed, They gazed at each other, the maid and the knight. How fair was her form, and how goodly his height! "One mournful embrace," sobb'd the youth, "ere we die!" So kissing and crying kept company. "Oh, had I but loved such an angel as you!" Oh, had but my swain been a quarter as true!" "To miss such perfection how blinded was I!" Sure now they were excellent company. At length spoke the lass, 'twixt a smile and a tear, "The weather is cold for a watery bier; When summer returns we may easily die, Till then let us sorrow in company." REGINALD HEBER. γου REV. GABE TUCKER'S REMARKS. OU may notch it on de palin's as a mighty resky plan To make your judgment by de clo'es dat kivers up a man; For I hardly needs to tell you how you often come across A fifty-dollar saddle on a twenty-dollar hoss; An', wukin' in de low-groun's, you diskiver, as you go, Dat de fines' shuck may hide de meanes' nubbin in a row. I think a man has got a mighty slender chance for heben But lays aside his 'ligion wid his Sunday pantaloons. I nebber judge o' people dat I meets along de way stay; For de bantam chicken's awful fond o' roostin' pretty high, An' de turkey-buzzard sails above de eagle in de sky; Dey ketches little minners in de middle of de sea, An' you finds de smalles' possum up de biggest kind o' tree! From Scribner, |