Deeper, deeper let us toil

In the mines of knowledge;
Nature's wealth, and learning's spoil,
Win from school and college;
Delve we there for richer gems,

Than the stars of diadems.

Onward, onward may we press,
Through the path of duty;
Virtue is true happiness,

Excellence true beauty;

Minds are of celestial birth,

Make we then a heaven of earth.

Closer, closer let us knit

Hearts and hands together,
Where your fireside comforts sit,

In the wildest weather;

Oh! they wander wide who roam

From the joys of life and home. [Montgomery

LIBERTY.

BENEATH Our country's flag we stand,

And give our hearts to thee,

Bright power, who steel'st and nerv'st our hand,

Thou first born, Liberty!

Here, on our swords we swear to give

Our willing lives, that thou may'st live!

For thee, the Spartan youth of old,

To death devoted, fell!

Thy spirit made the Roman bold,

And fired the patriot Tell!

Our sires, on Bunker, fought for thee,-
Undaunted fought, and we are free!

Run up your starry flag on high!
No storm shall rend its folds;
On, like a meteor, through the sky,
Its steady course it holds.

Thus high in heaven our flag unfurled,-
Go, bear it, Freedom, round the world!

THE SNOW STORM.

[Percival.

THE cold winds swept the mountain's height,
And pathless was the dreary wild,
And 'mid the cheerless hours of night,

A mother wandered with her child;
As through the drifted snow she pressed,
The babe was sleeping on her breast.

And colder still the winds did blow,

And darker hours of night came on, And deeper grew the drifts of snow,

Her limbs were chilled, her strength was gone; "O God," she cried, in accents wild, "If I must perish, save my child!"

She stripped her mantle from her breast,
And bared her bosom to the storm;
As round the child she wrapped the vest,
She smiled to think that it was warm.
With one cold kiss, one tear she shed,
And sunk upon a snowy bed.

At dawn, a traveler passéd by;

She lay beneath a snowy vail,The frost of death was in her eye,

Her cheek was cold, and hard, and pale; He moved the robe from off the child;

The babe looked up, and sweetly smiled. [Smith.

PART III.

POETIC PIECES,

COMIC.

ACCOUNT OF A BACHELOR.

(A PARODY ON ROMEO'S APOTHECARY.)

I DO remember an old bachelor,

And hereabouts he dwells,-whom late I noted In suit of sables, with a care-worn brow: Conning his books,—and meager were his looks: Celibacy had worn him to the bone;

And in his silent parlor hung a coat,

The which the moths had used not less than he.
Four chairs, one table, and an old hair trunk,
Made up the furniture; and on his shelves
A grease-clad candle-stick, a broken mug,
Two tumblers, and a box of old segars;
Remnants of volumes, once in some repute,
Were thinly scatter'd round, to tell the eye
Of prying stranger,—this man had no wife.
His tatter'd elbow gap'd most piteously;
And ever, as he turn'd him round, his skin
Did through his stockings peep upon the day.

Noting his gloom, unto myself I said,
And if a man did covet single life,
Reckless of joys that matrimony give,
The sight of this most pitiable wight
Would make him quick his aim give o'er,
And seek forthwith a loving wife.

[Anon

QUEER MISTAKE.

A POOR Simple foreigner, not long ago,

Whose knowledge of English was simply so so,
At a shop window reading, "Good pickles sold here,”
To the shopwoman said, “Vat is pickles, my dear ?”·

"Why, pickles," says she, “is a sort of a name

Like preserves, and the meaning is nearly the same;
For pickling preserves, though not quite the same way,-
Yet 'tis much the same thing, as a body may say.”

The foreigner bow 'd, and gave thanks for his lesson;
Which, the next day, at dinner, he made a fine mess on;
For a loud clap of thunder caus'd Miss Kitty Nervous
To start from her chair, and cry, "Mercy, preserve us!"
While he keeping closely his lesson in view,

Cried, "Mercy, preserve us, and pickle us too!" [Anon.

GETTING A DEGREE.

To Cambridge there went,

By vanity sent,

A pedant to get a decree.
He was questioned at large,
By a person in charge,

In order his fitness to see.

The vain candidate

Was first asked to state

The sense of the word "create."

"Create, did you say?

Let me think a while, pray;—

That's a matter not easy to state.

I'm sure I have heard,

Means, 'to make out of nothing,' good Proctor!"

"If that be the case,"

Said his dignified grace,

"Then will I create thee a doctor!"

[Reimer.

THE BOY AND THE BAKER.
ONCE, when monopoly had made
As bad as now the eating trade,
A boy went to a baker's shop,
His gnawing appetite to stop;
A loaf for two-pence there demanded,
And down a tiny loaf was handed.
The boy survey'd it round and round,
With many a shrug and look profound;
At length,-"Why, master," said the wight,
"This loaf is very, very light!"

The baker, his complaint to parry,

Replied, with look most archly dry,

While quirk conceit sat squinting on his eye,"Light, boy?—then you've the less to carry!"

The boy grinn'd plaudits to his joke,

And on the counter laid down rhino, With mien that plainly all but spoke,— "With you I'll soon be even, I know."