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careful of your words and your example be

THE CANTEEN. fore your own children, for the fruit of your own doing you will surely reap from them

BY PRIVATE MILES O'REILLY. when you yourselves totter on the brink of I entreat you as a friend, as one

THERE are bonds of all sorts in this world of who has himself entered the evening of

ours, life,' that you may never say in the presence Fetters of friendship and ties of flowers, of your families nor of Heaven, 'Our mother And true-lovers' knots, I ween : has outlived her usefulness; she was a bur- The girl and the boy are bound by a kiss, den to us.' Never, never, never; a mother But there 's never a bond, old friend, like cannot live so long as that! No; when she this, – can no longer labor for her children, nor yet

We have drunk from the same canteen ! care for herself, she can fall like a precious weight on their bosom, and call forth by her It was sometimes water, and sometimes milk, helplessness all the noble, generous feelings And sometimes apple-jack, fine as silk; of their nature.”

But whatever the tipple has been,
We shared it together, in bane or bliss,
And I warm to you, friend, when I think of


We have drunk from the same canteen !

The rich and the great sit down to dine,
And they quaff to each other in sparkling

wine, By the muddy crossing in the crowded streets, From glasses of crystal and green; Stands a little maid with her basket full of But I guess in their golden potations they posies,

miss Proffering all who pass her choice of knitted The warmth of regard to be found in this, sweets,

We have drunk from the same canteen. Tempting Age with heart's-ease, courting Youth with roses.

We have shared our blankets and tent to

gether, Age disdains the heart's-ease,

And have marched and fought in all kinds of Love rejects the roses ;

weather, London life is busy

And hungry and full we have been; Who can stop for posies?

Had days of battle and days of rest;

But this memory I cling to and love the One man is too grave, another is too gay

best, This man has his hothouse, that man not a We have drunk from the same canteen !

penny; Flowers, too, are common in the month of For when wounded I lay on the outer slope, May,

With my blood flowing fast, and but little And the things most common ledst attract hope

Upon which my faint spirit could lean;

Oh then, I remember, you crawled to my Ill on London crossings

side, Fares the sale of posies;

And, bleeding so fast it seemed both must Age disdains the heart's-ease,

have died, Youth rejects the roses.

We drank from the same canteen.

the many




O full of years, with memories blest

Of toil for God, and man, and truth, [From the New York Evening Post, Aug. 15, 1874.] With hopes that calm and cheer the breast,

And breathe a new, transfigured youth ! REV. DR. JAMES WALKER, ex-President of Harvard University, reaches the vener- O full of years ! thy “fourscore years ” able age of eighty years to-morrow, August

Not “labor" bring, and “sorrow,” 16. He was born in Burlington, Massachusetts, in 1794, was graduated at Harvard in Thy peaceful sun, as evening nears, 1814, was ordained pastor over the Har

Points onward to still brighter day. vard Congregational (Unitarian) Church, in Charlestown, Massachusetts, in 1818, became assistant professor of moral philosophy at

Grateful we hail the blessed sight Cambridge in 1839, and President of Har

Of this thy tranquil eventide ; vard University in 1853. Since his retire. And would with thee, in its pure light, ment in 1860 he has lived quietly at Cam

Thy guests and guests of heaven abide. bridge, a constant and earnest student, and occasionally appearing as a writer and a

This day,

to us a festal day, — preacher. Recently his bodily infirmity has Loved friend and father, we would bring kept him much at home, but his mind has Our debt of gratitude to pay never been clearer, and his conversation The heart's memorial offering. never more full of life. He and Rev. Dr. Dewey, who was eighty years old March 14, Its sculptured language well may speak are the patriarchs of the Unitarian denomi

What tongue and pen in vain would nation in America.

say ; The following poem, by Rev. Charles T. What the warm heart might vainly seek Brooks, of Newport, is to be sent to-morrow, To breathe out in the tender lay. with a rich work of Christian art in silver and gold, to Rev. Dr. James Walker, of Cam

“ The cup of blessing which we bless," bridge, ex-President of Harvard College, in honor of his eightieth birthday. The old An emblem of the happiness

Kindly accept; and may it be parishioners and friends who send the gift

Life's brimming cup shall keep for thee ! have requested Rev. Dr. Osgood, of this city, one of the members of Dr. Walker's old parish, to write the letter in their name.

To us thy heart's full, golden bowl
Rich draughts of Heaven's pure wine hath


Nerving anew the jaded soul

With quickenings of electric thought.
On his Eightieth Birthday.
O full of years and of the stores

We speak not for ourselves alone,
Of tranquil wisdom years impart

But for a manly race, whose youth, To him who, in their flight, adores

Enkindled by thy thrilling tone, The Eternal One with grateful heart! Woke to the majesty of truth !

O full of years, yet fuller still

Of what no earthly years can give But he alone, whose mercies fill

Pure hearts with love to all that live!

Who, in that fresh and tender hour

When burning passions dance their round, Thus felt Religion's gracious power,

And saw her brow with beauty crowned !

And thousands, too, who never heard

Thy voice, have kindled o'er the page On which thy brave and lucid word

Went forth to move and mould the age.


The pulpit was thy “joy and throne;'

No less in Harvard's august chair, Thy manly, genial wisdom shone

And breathed its blessed influence there.

scription did not read “upon the eightieth anniversary of his birthday," a form of words which would convey the meaning accurately), and were sent to the Doctor in a handsome case of morocco lined with blue silk. Huntington, who saw the gift at Tiffany's before it was sent away, and whose judgment is authoritative, pronounced it a gem of Christian art; and the letter that went with it said that it was meant to tell the Doctor at once that his friends believed that God had blessed him in his life, and that they gave their own “God bless you !” in this pleasant and lasting form.

To-day, O loved and honored one,

What throngs rise up to call thee blest, And pray thy slowly sinking sun

Long linger in the glowing west !

[From the Transcript.]

[From the New York Evening Post.]

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THE GIFT TO EX-PRESIDENT REV. JAMES Gift to King's CHAPEL. — The late Rev. WALKER, D. D., spoken of in the “ Trans- Dr. James Walker, ex-President of Harvard cript,” yesterday, is thus described :

College, left a special gift for Rev. Dr. OsA cup and plate in silver, relieved with good of that city, the nature and disposition gold, are made to tell the lesson of his life, of which are thus stated : “Dr. Osgood reand the good wishes of his old parishioners ceived the costly and exquisite pieces of silver and friends. The cup is nearly a foot high, and the richly-wrought cup and plate that with a pedestal bordered with gold, with ivy were presented to Dr. Walker last August, and lilies in wrought silver upon the stem, and when he was eighty years old, by his old with rich designs and inscriptions upon the parishioners and friends. The gift was, of bowl, which is lined with gold. Upon one course, accepted with gratitude, but the reside of the bowl the seal of Harvard Univer- ceiver thought it too sacred and impressive sity is given in bold relief, with the motto, to be kept private in the household, and “Christo et Ecclesiæ,” in raised letters, and therefore offered it to King's Chapel, Boston, with blades of wheat on one side, richly where Dr. Walker had so many friends, and chased, and a vine branch on the other. where he was invited to be pastor after his Upon the opposite side of the bowl is the retirement from the presidency at the age of name of Dr. Walker, with the chief dates of sixty-six. The minister and wardens of his life enclosed within branches of olive King's Chapel signified to Dr. Osgood their and oak. Around the rim of the cup is the grateful acceptance of the beautiful memoinscription in church letter, “The Cup of rial, and the intention of the congregation to Blessing which we Bless."

keep it with their communion plate and use The plate is a foot in diameter, with a gold the cup and plate at Christmas, Easter, and border of ecclesiastical pattern, and a wreath, Whit Sunday at Holy Communion. The vine and berries engraved around the inside. formal presentation of the gift was made in The name is in the centre, surrounded by the Chapel on Sunday morning, Feb. 28, by the words, in antique letters, “ Thine old the minister, Rev. Henry W. Foote, and the age shall be clearer than the noonday; thou correspondence concerning it was then read. shalt be as the morning.” Both the cup The only condition attached by Dr. Osgood and plate are inscribed, after name, “From was that it should go to Harvard University old parishioners and friends, upon his eigh- in case the Chapel should ever cease to hold tieth birthday” (it is a pity that the in- \ it.”



stone. This little enclosure is in grass, with

a rose-bush or two; off at the east corner We print to-day a graceful and serious lit- is a small maple. The rugged, massive rock tle poem by Dr. Parsons, addressed to a is a fit companion at the grave; it is to be friend who had lately returned from the hoped that no other monument will be set up. Adirondacks. The reader who has ever vis..... It comes over one here that this man, ited the grave of John Brown will be re- more than any other one person, must be minded by this sonnet of the great rock under thought of as the victim of slavery, and that whose shadow the old man rests. We take in him — whether it be true or not that his from the note-book of a friend who was there mind grew disordered — are shown the rein 1870 the following description of the vulsion and the protest of human nature itspot :

self at the horrid system. Visited John Brown's grave at North Elba, The nobly simple inscription upon the rock half a mile across the fields from Hanmer's at John Brown's grave was placed there by tavern, two miles by the road. His house, a citizen of Boston. unpainted, small, one story and a half, with a small addition behind, is on a cleared pla

TO A LADY, teau of five or eight acres : “Whiteface,” in

(Whose ring bore the motto Dieu est ma Roche.] full sight on the north and a fine view for a full semicircle or more, all round to the east What went ye forth in that fair wilderness and south of the Adirondack ranges; on the To look on, lady ? — fawns of mottled skin, west and south, woods. The chief point Or trembling does driven to unwonted deeps, about the place is the cleared, level plateau, Or the wild Saranac, half its glory gone laid down to grass, with scattered stumps Of grace obscure and lovely loneliness, now old and growing small; on this the And woods unconscious of the tourists' din, house stands ; my companion admires the Where now no torrent unregarded leaps ? taste that chose such a spot, the finest site, Or to see Autumn bis red mantle don, he thinks, that we have seen.

The grave is

And the free forest in imperial dress ? in a little enclosure, fifty feet square or so, Lady! thy legend should have graven been close by the house, at the northeast; a huge There in the Adirondacks, where he sleeps boulder, of a flat rather than high shape (it Whose soul, the song saith, still is marching is about eight feet high), occupies a full third of the enclosure; it seems bedded deep in God was his rock, and fitly in the shade the earth ; steps lead to the top of it, and Of God's first handiwork that head was laid. there, where the side of the rock rises a little from its general slope, one reads these words, cut into the solid stone and facing the east:


England, has been using an old American 1859.

anecdote to good advantage. To the wife of

a British cabinet officer, who assured him The grave lies at the side of this boulder that “England made America all that she and has at the head of it a slab, - an old one is," he said : “ Pardon, madam, you remind removed from some other place, — with an me of an answer of the Iowa lad in his teens, antique inscription to the memory of Captain who, attending Sunday school for the first John Brown, who died in 1776; under this is time, was asked by his teacher, “Who made another one to “John Brown, born 1800, you ?' He replied, “God made me so long executed at Charlestown, Va., Dec. 2, 1859; (holding his hands about ten inches apart), other inscriptions to his sons crowd the but I growed the rest.'


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writer is in error ; for, so far from “ Mother Goose " being a creature of fancy, she was, we beg to assure him, a veritable person

age. What shall we do now, Mary being dead, The mother-in-law of Thomas Fleet, the Or say, or write, that shall express the editor, in 1731, of the “ Boston Weekly Rehalf ?

hearsal," was none other than the original What can we do, but pillow that fair head, Mother Goose, the Mother Goose of the And let the springtime write her epitaph, world-famous Melodies. Mother Goose be

longed to a wealthy family in Boston, where As it will soon, in snowdrop, violet,

her eldest daughter, Elizabeth Goose, was Wild-flower, and columbine, and maiden's married by Cotton Mather, in 1715, to Fleet, tear, and in due time gave birth to a son.

Like Each letter of that pretty alphabet

most mothers-in-law in our own day, the That spells in flowers the pageant of the importance of Mrs. Goose increased with year?

the appearance of her grandchild, and poor

Mr. Fleet, half distracted with her endless She was a maiden for a man to love ;

nursery ditties, finding all other means fail, She was a woman for a husband's life; tried what ridicule could effect, and actually One that had learned to value far above

printed a book with the title, “Songs for The name of Love the sacred name of the Nursery; or, Mother Goose's Melodies Wife.

for Children, printed by T. Fleet, at his

printing house, Pudding Lane, Boston. Price Her little life-dream, rounded so with sleep, ten coppers.”

Had all there is of life, except gray hairs, – Mother Goose was the mother of nineteen Hope — love — trust — passion, and devotion children, and hence we may easily trace the deep

origin of that famous classic, – And that mysterious tie a mother bears.

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe,

She had so many children she did n't know what to do." She hath fulfilled her promise, and hath

past; Let her down gently at the iron door! Eyes, look on that loved image for the last; ABOUT THE AGE OF HORSES. - A short Now cover it in earth, — her earth no more. time ago we met a gentleman who gave in

formation in regard to ascertaining the age of horses after they have passed the ninth

year, new to us, and will be, we are sure, to MOTHER GOOSE NOT A MYTH. most of our readers. It is this : After the

horse is nine years old, a wrinkle comes on MR. William L. STONE, of this city, writes the upper corner of the lower lid, and every as follows to the “ Providence Journal: year thereafter he has one well-defined

In the January number of the “ Brauno- wrinkle for every year over nine. If a horse nian” appears a well-written and interesting has three wrinkles, he is twelve ; if he has paper entitled “Mother Goose's Melodies." four, he is thirteen. Add the number of In the first paragraph is this sentence: wrinkles to nine, and you will get it. So “ Here the traditional bard is Mother Goose, says the gentleman, and he is sure

will of whom nothing certain is known. .... not fail. As a good many people have But more than the name history does not horses over nine, it is easily tried. If true, reveal.” In this statement, however, the | the horse dentist must give up his trade.

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