4.

"You've ne'er seen a city, and Cleveland is fine,

Ne'er seen the blue billowy Lake;

Ne'er rode in a rail-car, or been in a throng,

So, Kate, this journey we'll take.

And, gathering new feelings, new thoughts, and new ways, If we find those that suit as we roam,

And garner up strength with our head, hearts and hands, For the love and the duties of home.

5. "I have sometimes thought, Kate, as I plodded along,
For months, o'er the same weary round,

That a fellow who had such a really hard time,
In Ohio could nowhere be found;

But when I've been called from my home for awhile
And seen how the rest get along,

I've come back to my toil with a light, cheerful heart,
And there's no place like home,' was my song.

6. "I wonder that mothers don't wholly despair,
Who ne'er from their cares get away,

But walk the same tread-wheel of duty for years,
Scarce stopping to rest, night or day.

I don't wonder they grow discontented, sometimes,
That their feelings grow raspy and cold;
For toil never ending, and labor uncheered,

Make women-and MEN-sometimes scold."

7. Kate looked up with a smile, and said: "Ben, we will go, There may be better oxen than ours,

Horses swifter on foot, and cows finer by far,
Better butter and cheese, fruit and flowers.
But there's one thing I claim, I know can't be beat
In the whole Yankee nation to-day;

I'd not swap him, I for a kingdom to boot

That's my 'gude man,"-and Kate ran away.

PEOPLE WITH ONE IDEA.-W. HAZLITT.

1. THERE are people who have but one idea; at least, if they have more, they keep it a secret, for they never talk of but one subject.

There is Major Cartwright: he has but one idea or subject of discourse, Parliamentary Reform. Now, Parliamentary Reform is (as far as I know) a very good thing, a very good idea, and a very good subject to talk about: but why should it be the only one? To hear the worthy and gallant Major resume his favorite topic, is like law-business, or a person who has a suit in Chancery depending.

2. Nothing can be attended to, nothing can be talked of, but that. Now it is getting on, now again it is standing still; at one time, the Master has promised to pass judgment by a certain day, at another he has put it off again, and called for more papers, and both are equally reasons for speaking of it.

3. Conversation it is not; but a sort of recital of the preamble of a bill, or a collection of grave arguments for a man's being of opinion with himself. It would be well, if there was anything of character, of eccentricity in all this; but that is not the case. It is a political homily personified, a walking common-place we have to encounter and listen to.

4. It is a tune played on a barrel-organ. It is a common vehicle of discourse, into which such persons get, and are set down when they please, without any pains or trouble to themselves. Neither is it professional pedantry or trading quackery it has no excuse. The man has no more to do with the question which he saddles on all his hearers, than you have.

5. If a farmer talks to you about his pigs or his poultry, or a physician about his patients, or a lawyer about his briefs, or a merchant about stock, or an author about himself, you know how to account for this; it is a common infirmity: you have a laugh at his expense, and there is no more to be said. But here is a man who goes out of his way to be absurd, and is troublesome by a romantic effort of generosity.

WHERE WAS THE EMPEROR TO SIT?-DE QUINCEY.

1. AMONGST the presents carried out by our first embassy to China, was a state-coach. It had been specially selected, as a personal gift by George III.; but the exact mode of using it was a mystery to Pekin.

2. The ambassador, indeed, (Lord Macartney,) had made some dim and imperfect explanations upon the point; but as his excellency communicated these in a diplomatic whisper, at the very moment of his departure, the mind of his celestial majesty was very feebly illuminated; and it became necessary to call a cabinet council on the grand State question—" Where was the Emperor to sit ?"

3. The hammer-cloth happened to be unusually gorgeous; and partly on that consideration, but partly also because the box offered the most elevated seat, and undeniably went foremost, it was resolved by acclamation that the box was the imperial place, and, for the scoundrel who drove, he might sit where he could find a perch.

4. The horses, therefore, being harnessed, under a flourish of music and a salute of guns, solemnly his imperial majesty ascended his new English throne, having the first lord of the treasury on his right hand, and the chief jester on his left. Pekin gloried in the spectacle; and in the whole flowery people, constructively present by representation, there was but one discontented person, which was the coachman.

5. This mutinous individual, looking as black-hearted as he really was, audaciously shouted: "Where am I to sit ?" But the privy council, incensed by his disloyalty, unanimously opened the door, and kicked him into the inside. He had all the inside places to himself; but such is the rapacity of ambition, that he was still dissatisfied.

6. "I say," he cried out in an extempore petition, address ed to the emperor through the window, "how am I to catch hold of the reins ?" 66 Anyhow," was the answer; "don't

trouble me, man, in my glory; through the windows, through the key-holes-how you please."

7. Finally this contumacious coachman lengthened the checkstrings into a sort of jury-reins, communicating with the horses; with these he drove as steadily as may be supposed. The emperor returned after the briefest of circuits; he descended in great pomp from his throne, with the severest resolution never to remount it. A public thanksgiving was ordered for his majesty's prosperous escape from the disease of a broken neck; and the state-coach was dedicated forever as a votive offering to the god Fo, Fo-whom the learned more accurately called Fi, Fi.

HERE'S A SONG FOR OLD DOBBIN.-NEW YORK MIRROR.

1. HERE's a song for old Dobbin, whose temper and worth Are too rare to be spurned on the score of his birth. He's a creature of trust and what more should we heed? 'Tis deeds and not blood make the man and the steed.

2. He was bred in the forest and turned on the plain, Where the thistle-burs clung to his fetlocks and mane. All ugly and rough, not a soul could espy

The spark of good humor that dwelt in his eye.

3. The summer had waned and the autumn months rolled Into those of stern winter all dreary and cold;

But the north wind might whistle, the snow-flake might

dance,

The colt of the common was left to his chance.

4. Half starved and half frozen, the hail storm would pelt,
Till his shivering limbs told the pangs that he felt;
But we pitied the brute and though laughed at by all,
But filled him a manger and gave him a stall.

5. He was fond as a spaniel, and soon he became

The pride of the herd-boy, the pet of the dame.

You may judge of his fame, when his price, was a crown; But we christened him Dobbin, and called him our own.

6. He grew out of colthood, and, lo! what a change!
The knowing ones said it was morally strange!
For the foal of the forest, the colt of the waste,
Attracted the notice of jockeys of taste.

7. The line of his symmetry was not exact;

But his paces were clever, his mould was compact;
And his shaggy thick coat now appeared with a gloss,
Shining out like the gold that's been purged of its dross.

8. We broke him for service, and tamely he wore

Girth and rein, seeming proud of the thraldom he bore;
Every farm has a steed for all work and all hours,
And Dobbin, the sturdy bay pony, was ours.

9. He carried the master to barter his grain,
And ever returned with him safely again:
There was merit in that, for, deny it who may,
When the master could not, Dobbin could find his way.

10. The dairy-maid ventured her eggs on his back:
'Twas him, and him only, she'd trust with the pack.
The team horses jolted, the roadster played pranks,
So Dobbin alone had her faith and her thanks.

11. We fun-loving urchins would group by his side;

We might fearlessly mount him, and daringly ride;
We might creep through his legs, we might plait his long

tail;

But his temper and patience were ne'er known to fail.