It shivered dot vindow Mid pains und sashes; It rent dot old banner Mid seams und mid gashes. Vell! ven everey-pody Saw how dot vindow glass vas spilt, Dey all t'ought dot old vomans She must be righd avay kilt. Bud, no; ven she saw Dot flag fall down from der shtick, Old Barbara she caught him Up righd avay quick, Und leaning herself inside Oud dot vindow sill, She shook dot flag, By jimminy Christmas, fit to kill. "Shoot, if you must, at dis old white head, But spare your country's flag!" Dot's vot she said. A shade of big sadness, A blushes of shame, Over der face of Stony-vall In vone quick second came, "Who touches der hairs Of dot old bald head, Dies, like a spitz poodle-march, righd Straighd on along dere now!" Dot's vot he said. All der whole day long by dere drum's gay beat, Dhey marched over dot smoodth cobble-stone pavement streedt. Over der heads der whole day t'rough Waved dot old flag of red, white, black und blue! Perhaps he vas wrong-I don't dhink he vas righd, But, now, dot's no difference vichever vay, I'll bet two dollars und a half he's all righd at der last big day. Barbara Frickey has gone to der same place mid From which no liven person has ever yet come back. true, We'll find Stony-vall Jack und Barbara Frickey, too REMEMBRANCE, Oft in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Of other days around me. The smiles and tears of boyhood years, The eyes so bright, now dimmed and gone; When I remember all The friends so linked together, Like leaves in wintry weather, I feel like one who treads alone Some banquet hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, whose garlands dead, And all save he deserted! Thus in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond memory brings the light Of other days around me. EASTER MORN. BYRON W. KING. Ring out, ring out your swelling chime, Falls on the lowly homes of earth, Ye angels, that before the throne Join with that olden, sweet refrain, 66 "Peace, peace on earth, good will to men," He is not dead! He lives again! For we behold His hands and feet!" FANNY AND I. I had been very angry with Fanny, and Fanny had been very angry with me. She had flirted with Fitz Foodle, and I had revenged myself by flirting with Miss Brown. So we had parted. You may smile, but it was rather serious to me at that time. We had given back rings and locks of hair—mine was red-and letters; and we passed each other on the street without a glance, and somebody told me she was engaged to Fitz Foodle. I don't know what they told her, but her little face was two inches longer than it used to be. Make up? No, indeed, we never were going to make up never! There could be no reconciliation for us of that I was sure. I wrote a piece of poetry and called it "Parted Forever," and sent it to the paper. The editor declined it with thanks. was a touching thing, though, I feel sure, and I shed tears over it. It Of course, when I happened to meet her, I felt the iron pierce my soul; and when I didn't meet her for a long time, I was still more wretched. At last, one day, I stepped upon a crowded Brooklyn ferry boat and trod upon some one's dress. I apologized; she turned; it was Fanny. I gave her an awful look. She gave me another. Then I stared at nothing, and the boat started; and a great train of white foam followed us; and the big towers of the bridge loomed up before us; and the passengers pushed and poked each other; and a woman with a market basket, with Sausage and Limburger Cheese in it, stood back to back with Fanny; and an infant with molasses candy took hold of my coat sleeve with its sticky hand, while its mother instructed it that I wasn't pa; and the horses attached to the wagons stamped about; and I was within an inch of Fanny-Fanny whom I used to kiss as much as I liked-and dared not touch her; and I thought of plunging overboard and dying before her eyes when, crash! crash! crash! The most awful noise, the most horrible ringing, clanging sound, bursting on our ears, and every man said words not in the catechism; and some one called out: "The boiler is burst and we're all going to the bottom!" And I what I cried out was, "Fanny!" and what she cried out was, "Will!" and now I had her in my arms. I held her close, and said, "Oh, Fanny, Fanny!" and she sobbed, "Oh, Will, Will!" "Oh, forgive me, Fanny," I said; "we can't die angry with each other!" "Oh, forgive me, Will," said she, "it was all my fault." "Oh, no,” said I, “it was all mine; but we'll die together, darling. Better die than live apart.” "Oh, no," said she, “not now; we must live for each other. Oh, save me! try to save me!-try to save me!" "I will,” I said; "I'll try to swim, Fanny; I'll get a life-preserver.” I dragged her toward the spot where the lifepreservers were kept and handed one down. I did not notice what other people were doing-I did not care. I fastened the preserver about Fanny, and put another about my own body and took her in my arms. In a moment more I should have jumped over with her, but some one caught my coat tails. Stop!" said a voice. "I say-are you going crazy? There's nothin' the matter. The boiler isn't bursted. The noise was only a lot of iron bars and rails spilled out of a wagon over there. It skeered most of us, but we've all come to ourselves but you." So they had. Most of them stood grinning at us; and Fanny grew red as a rose as I unharnessed |