Leaving me, the darling hurried
Down to Mary in his glee,
"Mamma's witing lots of letters;
I'se a letter, Mary,-see!"

No one heard the little prattler,
As once more he climbed the stair,
Reached his little cap and tippet,
Standing on the entry stair.

No one heard the front door open,
No one saw the golden hair,
As it floated o'er his shoulders
In the crisp October air.

Down the street the baby hastened
Till he reached the office door.

"I'se a letter, Mr. Postman;

Is there room for any more?

"'Cause dis letter's doin' to papa,

Papa lives with God, 'ou know,

Mamma sent me for a letter,

Does 'ou fink, 'at I tan do ?"

But the clerk in wonder answered,

"Not to-day, my little man."

"Den I'll find anozzer office,

"Cause I must do if I tan."

Fain the clerk would have detained him,
But the pleading face was gone,
And the little feet were hastening-
By the busy crowd swept on.

Suddenly the crowd was parted,
People fled to left and right,
As a pair of maddened horses
At the moment dashed in sight.

No one saw the baby figure-
No one saw the golden hair,
Till a voice of frightened sweetness
Rang out on the autumn air.

'Twas too late-a moment only
Stood the beauteous vision there,
Then the little face lay lifeless,
Covered o'er with golden hair.

Reverently they raised my darling,
Brushed away the curls of gold,
Saw the stamp upon the forehead,
Growing now so icy cold.

Not a mark the face disfigured,
Showing where a hoof had trod;
But the little life was ended-
66 Papa's letter" was with God.

ST. AGNES' SHRINE.

WHILE before St. Agnes' shrine
Knelt a true knight's lady-love,
From the wars of Palestine
Came a gentle carrier-dove.

Round his neck a silken string
Fastened words the warrior writ;
At her call he stooped his wing,
And upon her finger lit.

She, like one enchanted, pored
O'er the contents of the scroll-
For that lady loved her lord
With a pure, devoted soul.

To her heart her dove she drew,
While she traced the burning line;
Then away his minion flew

Back to sainted Palestine.

To and fro, from hand to hand
Came and went a carrier-dove,
Till throughout the Holy Land
War resigned his sword to Love.

Swift her dove, on wings of light,
Brought the news from Palestine,
And the lady her true knight
Wedded at St. Agnes' shrine.

Geo. P. Morris.

THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS.
THERE is a reaper whose name is Death,
And with his sickle keen

He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between.

"Shall I have nought that is fair to see;
Have nought but the bearded grain?
Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me,
I will give them all back again."

He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes,
And kissed their tremulous leaves;

It was for the Lord of paradise

He bound them in his sheaves.

"My Lord has need of these flowers gay,'
The reaper said, and smiled;
"Dear tokens of the earth are they,
Where He was once a child.

"They shall all bloom in fields of light,
Transplanted by my care,

And saints upon their garments white
These sacred blossoms wear."

And the mother gave in tears and pain
The flowers she most did love;

But she knew she should find them all again
In the fields of light above.

O, not in cruelty, not in wrath,

The reaper came that day;

'Twas an angel visited the green earth, And took the flowers away.

Longfellow.

2

THE BOY OF THE ARCTIC.

When the American steamship Arctic came in collision with another steamship at sea, in the autumn of 1854, there was a youth, named Stuart Holland, stationed at the gun, to keep firing it, in the hope of attracting the attention of vessels at a distance, that they might come to the relief of the sinking vessel. Nearly all the crew deserted, leaving the captain and most of the passengers without a boat. But Stuart Holland kept at his post, and sank with the ship. "I saw him," says an eyewitness, "in the very act of firing, as the vessel disappeared."

THE thick fog baffled vision,

But daylight lingered yet,
When two ships, in collision,
Upon the ocean met;
The Arctic shook and reeled;

A hole in her fore-quarter

Let in a rush of water:

The good ship's doom was sealed.

And there were men and women
Crowded upon the deck;

And there were frightened seamen
Rushing to leave the wreck!