Sometimes, wearied, and worn, and burdened to the dust, The longings of their hearts to see their native shore, Make them forget their tasks and servitude unjust, And happy visions bring,—and they are free once more! Is heard the clashing of the ferns, Jostling each other in the breeze; The sharp tongue of the locust breaks Monotony of whispering trees. MINNIE GOW WALSWORTH. Where whirred the beetle through the night, Rises the morerain's plaintive woe; And in its lonesome hiding-place Pulses the cricket's tremulo; M But at the broad’ning day's advance The brooklet seems to laugh and sing; And fills the valley and the wood With fuller voice of everything; 'Then suddenly from leafy screen Out darts the joyous bobolink, And sparkling drops of melody In bubbling measures rise and sink; And from the screens of fern and leaf, Afar and near, and all about, In answer from the merry throats The diamond songs come gushing out; Music seems into jewels turned, Sparkling and dancing on the glow Of tawny sunlight o'er the hill, Which floods with gold the vales below. RS. WALSWORTH comes of one of the earliest families to settle in western Pennsylvania, whose line of descent has given many persons to literary and professional pursuits. Her grandfather, John L. Gow, of Washington, Pa., was a writer of both prose and verse. Her father, Alex M. Gow, was well known in Pennsylvania and Indiana as an educator and editor. He was the author of “Good Morals and Gentle Manners," a book used in public schools. Before Minnie Gow was ten years of age, her poetic productions were quite numerous, and although those productions were enjoyed and treasured by her friends, no encouragement was given her to publish until her judgment and taste were matured by experience and study. She was graduated from the Washington Female Seminary. On December 4th, 1891, she was married to Edgar Douglass Walsworth, of Fontenelle, Iowa, to which place Miss Gow had removed with her family a few years previous. Mrs. Walsworth has contributed to the New York Independent, Interior, St. Nicholas, Wide-Awake, Presbyterian Banner, Literary Life and several other periodicals. “Luaine," a poem, contains her most mature and careful work. J. M. G. Still swells the fuller voice of day From air and wave, from branch and sod, "Till nature's perfect harmony Rolls forth in rich accord. IN THE DISMAL SWAMP. DIES DIERUM. O winds, that whispered benedictions o'er them, 'Tis long since on her cheek ye spent your breath, And years, O flowers, that woke to life that morning, Since at her hands ye met a willing death. And the child-eyes, meeting the old eyes, dim, a But vague and tender as the flowers' awak’ning, There came, that day, new life within her heart; Her pulses beat in unison with Nature's, Her joy but to the day belonged a part. Ah, yes; perhaps yet, ʼmid the summer's beauty, The words come back and mem'ries sweet arise, “Oh gift of God! oh perfect day!” she murmurs, But tears well up to dim her wistful eyes. AT THE CHURCH SOCIAL. Oh, what was that night but unbroken joy Into the gloom of the summer night, leaves- BABY IN CHURCH. AUNT Nellie has fashioned a dainty thing, Of hamburg and ribbon and lace, And mamma had said, as she settled it 'round Our beautiful baby's face, Where the dimples play and the laughter lies Like sunbeams hid in her violet eyes: “ If the day is pleasant and baby is good, She may go to church and wear her new hood." From a house as "snug as a robin's nest," Then Ben, aged six, began to tell, In elder-brotherly way, If she went to church next day. a And so, on a beautiful Sabbath in May, When the fruit-buds burst into flowers, (There wasn't a blossom on bush or tree So fair as this blossom of ours), All in her white dress, dainty and new, Our baby sat in the family pew. The grand, sweet music, the reverent air, The solemn hush and the voice of prayer, |