MINNIE GOW WALSWORTH. Where whirred the beetle through the night, Pulses the cricket's tremulo; But at the broad'ning day's advance The brooklet seems to laugh and sing; Then suddenly from leafy screen 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 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. 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. M' MINNIE GOW WALSWORTH. 71 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. 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. 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, 'mid 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. INTO the gloom of the summer night, A shimmering flood from a thousand eaves— It fell on the throng of a city street, A supper and fair, where good things greet From a house as "snug as a robin's nest," And the child-eyes, meeting the old eyes, dim, But soon he had gone, the street door closed, Oh, what was that night but unbroken joy At last it was over; the time had come BABY IN CHURCH. AUNT Nellie has fashioned a dainty thing, Where the dimples play and the laughter lies Then Ben, aged six, began to tell, If she went to church next day. He told of the church, the choir and the crowd, And so, on a beautiful Sabbath in May, |