But there's the children to think of-that makes my dooty clear,

And I'll try to foller it, Deacon, though I'm tired of this earthly speer.

Good-by, then, I shan't forgit you, nor all the kindness you've showed;

"Twill help to cheer me to-morrer, as I go on my lonely road, For- What are you sayin', Deacon? I needn't--I need'nt go? You've bought the mortgage, and I can stay? Stop! say it over slow.Jest wait now--jest wait a minute-I'll take it in bime-by That I can stay. Why, Deacon, I don't know what makes me cry!

I haven't no words to thank you. Ef Caleb was only here, He'd sech a head for speakin', he'd make my feelin's clear. There's a picter in our old Bible of an angel from the skies,

And though he hasn't no great-coat, and no spectacles on his eyes,

He looks jest like you, Deacon, with your smile so good and trew,

And whenever I see that picter, 'twill make me think of

you.

The children will be so happy! Why, Debby will most go

wild;

She fretted so much at leavin' her garding behind, poor child!

And, law! I'm as glad as Debby, ef only for jest one thingNow I can tend the posies I planted there last spring

On Caleb's grave: he loved the flowers, and it seems as ef he'll know

They're a-bloomin' all around him while he's sleepin' there below.

LAUGHTER.

Laughter! 'tis the poor man's plaster,
Covering up each sad disaster.

Laughing, he forgets his troubles,

Which, though real, seem but bubbles.

Laughter! 'tis a seal of nature
Stamped upon the human creature.
Laughter, whether loud or mute,
Tells the human kind from brute.
Laughter! 'tis Hope's living voice
Bidding us to make our choice,
And to cull from thorny bowers,
Leaving thorns and taking flowers.

IN THE STREET OF BY-AND-BY.-MRS. ABDY. "By the street of 'By-and-By' one arrives at the house of 'Never." "

OLD SAYING.

Oh! shun the spot, my youthful friends, I urge you to beware; Beguiling is the pleasant way, and softly breathes the air; Yet none have ever passed to scenes ennobling, great and high,

Who once began to linger in the street of By-and-by.

How varied are the images arising to my sight

Of those who wished to shun the wrong, who loved and prized the right,

Yet from the silken bonds of sloth, they vainly strove to fly, Which held them gently prisoned in the street of By-and-by.

A youth aspired to climb the height of Learning's lofty hill; What dimmed his bright intelligence-what quelled his earnest will?

Why did the object of his quest still mock his wistful eye? Too long, alas! he tarried in the street of By-and-by.

"My projects thrive," the merchant said; "when doubled is my store,

How freely shall my ready gold be showered among the poor!"

Vast grew his wealth, yet strove he not the mourner's tear to dry;

He never journeyed onward from the street of By-and-by.

"Forgive thy erring brother, he hath wept and suffered long,"

I said to one, who answered-"He hath done me grievous wrong;

Yet will I seek my brother, and forgive him, ere I die;"
Alas! Death shortly found him in the street of By-and-by!

The wearied worldling muses upon lost and wasted days,
Resolved to turn hereafter from the error of his ways,
To lift his groveling thoughts from earth, and fix them on
the sky;

Why does he linger fondly in the street of By-and-by?

Then shun the spot, my youthful friends; work on, while yet you may;

Let not old age o'ertake you as you slothfully delay,
Lest you should gaze around you, and discover with a sigh,
You have reached the house of "Never" by the street of
By-and-by.

AUNT JEMIMA'S COURTSHIP.

Waal, girls-if you must know-reckon I must tell ye. Waal, 'twas in the winter time, and father and I were sitting alone in the kitchen. We wur sitting thar sort o' quiet like, when father sez, sez he to me, "Jemima!" And I sez, sez I, What, sir?" And he sez, sez he, "Wa'n't that a rap at the door?" and I sez, sez I, “No, sir." Bimeby, father sez to me again, sez he, "Jemima!" And I sez, sez I, " What sir?” and he sez, sez he, "Are you sure?" and I sez, sez I, "No, sir.” So I went to the door, and opened it, and sure enough there stood-a man. Waal, he came in and sat down by father, and father and he talked about almost everything you could think of; they talked about the farm, they talked about the crops, and they talked about politics, and they talked about all other ticks.

Bimeby father, father sez to me, sez he, "Jemima!" And I sez, sez I," What, sir?" And he sez, "Can't we have some cider?" And I sez, sez I, "I suppose so." So I went down in the cellar and brought up a pitcher of cider, and I handed some cider to father, and then I handed some to the man; and father he drinks, and the man he drinks, and father he drinks, the man he drinks till they drink it all up. After awhile father sez to me, sez he, "Jemima!" And I sez, sez I," What, sir?" And he sez, sez he, "Ain't it most time for me to be thinking about going to bed?" And I sez, sez I, "Indeed, you are the best judge of that yourself, sir," Waal," he sez, sez he, “Jemima, bring me my dressinggown and slippers." And he put them on and arter awhile he went to bed.

And there sat that man; and bimeby he began a-hitching his chair up toward mine-oh my! I was all in a flutter. And then he sez, sez he, "Jemima?" And I sez, sez I, “What, sir?" And he sez, sez he, "Will you have me?" And I sez, sez I, "No, sir!" for I was most scared to death. Waal, there we sat, and arter awhile, will ye believe me, he began backing his chair closer and closer to mine, and sez he, "Jemima?" And I sez, sez I, "What, sir?" And he sez, sez he, "Will ye have me?" And I sez, sez I, "No, sir!" Waal, by this time he had his arm around my waist, and I hadn't

the heart to take it away 'cause the tears was a-rollin' down his cheeks, and he sez, sez he, "Jemima?" And I sez, sez I, "What, sir?" And he sez, sez he, "For the third and last time, I shan't ask ye agin, will ye have me?" And I sez, sez I, “Yes, sir,”—fur I didn't know what else to say.

THE CHARGE BY THE FORD.-THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH.

Eighty and nine with their captain,
Rode on the enemy's track,
Rode in the gray of the morning-
Nine of the ninety came back.
Slow rose the mist from the river,
Lighter each moment the way;
Careless and tearless and fearless
Galloped they on to the fray.
Singing in tune, how the scabbards
Loud on the stirrup-irons rang,
Clinked as the men rose in saddle,
Fell, as they sank, with a clang.
What is it moves by the river,
Jaded, and weary, and weak?
Gray-backs-a cross on their banner--
Yonder the foe whom they seek.
Silence! They see not, they hear not,
Tarrying there by the marge:
Forward! Draw sabre! Trot! Gallop!
Charge! like a hurricane, charge!

Ah! 'twas a man-trap infernal---
Fire like the deep pit of hell!
Volley on volley to meet them,
Mixed with the gray rebel's yell.

Ninety had ridden to battle,
Tracing the enemy's track-
Ninety had ridden to battle;
Nine of the ninety came back.
Honor the name of the ninety;
Honor the heroes who came
Scathless from five hundred muskets,
Safe from the lead-bearing flame.
Eighty and one of the troopers
Lie on the field of the slain-
Lie on the red field of honor-
Honor the nine who remain !

Cold are the dead there, and gory,
There where their life-blood was spilt;
Back come the living, each sabre
Red from the point to the hilt.

Up with three cheers and a tiger!
Let the flags wave as they come!
Give them the blare of the trumpet!
Give them the roll of the drum!

A NOCTURNAL SKETCH.-THOMAS HOOD.

Even is come; and from the dark park, hark!
The signal of the setting sun,-one gun!
And six is sounding from the chime, prime time
To go and see the Drury-Lane Dane slain,
Or hear Othello's jealous doubt spout out;
Or Macbeth raving at that shade-made blade,
Denying to his frantic clutch much touch;
Or else to see Ducrow with wide stride, ride
Four horses, as no other man can span;
Or in the small Olympic pit sit, split
Laughing at Liston, while you quiz his phiz.
Anon night comes, and with her wings brings things
Such as, with his poetic tongue Young sung;
ue gas up-blazes with its bright white light;
And paralytic watchmen prowl, howl, growl
1bout the streets and take up Pall-Mall Sal,
Who, hasting to her nightly jobs, robs fobs.
Now thieves, to enter for your cash, smash, crash,
Past drowsy Charley in a deep sleep, creep,-
But frightened by policeman B. 3, flee-

And while they're going, whisper low, "No go!"

Now puss, while folks are in their beds, treads leads,
And sleepers waking, grumble, "Drat that cat!"
Who in the gutter caterwauls, squalls, mauls
Some feline foe, and screams in shrill ill-will.

Now Bulls of Bashan, of a prize size, rise

In childish dreams, and with a roar, gore poor
Georgy, or Charley, or Billy, willy-nilly;

But nurse-maid, in a nightmare rest, chest-pressed,
Dreameth of one of her old flames, James Games,

And that she hears-what faith is man's!-Ann's banns
And his, from Rev. Mr. Rice,-twice, thrice;
White ribbons flourish, and a stout shout out,

That upward goes, shows Rose knows those beaux' woes!