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Long as the tide shall flow

Shall cheeks be wet with tears;
The soul be sick with woe,

And through the dark, sad years, Shall count life's wild throbs one by one, While weary feet move blindly on,Long as the tide shall flow.

Long as the tide shall flow

Shall hope within the breast
Rise, rise from all below,

And whisper "home" and "rest!" And over cross, and tears, and night Show gleamings of a coming light,— Long as the tide shall flow.

THE DIFFERENCE.

By the pleasant fire they sat one night,
Husband and wife alone;

And they talked of changes they had seen,
And of how the years had flown;

Of the sons, now scattered far and near,
And the daughters, wooed and wed.
"We've only two in the house once more,
O, Mary, my wife!" he said.

"When we were alone, forty years ago,
So young and happy and poor,
There wasn't a prettier girl than you,
Nor a better one, I'm sure.

I promised you then I'd make you rich
If you'd only share my life.

I'm worth a million and more to-day,
A mine of wealth, dear wife."

"How much am I worth?" she smilingly asked.
He looked on her tender face;

He looked in her eyes, then closed his own,
And thought for a little space.

"You are worth the life I've spent with you,
You are worth its richest joys;

You are worth more gold than can be told—
You are worth my girls and boys.

"You are worth the years that are yet to come,
You are worth the world to me.

O, Mary, there is not gold enough

To say what you are worth to me!"
"Well, dear, I was worth the world to you

More than forty years ago;

A million is but a paltry sum

To the whole wide world, you know!

So then, we have never been poor at all!
Now, isn't it nice to know

That you were a million billionaire
More than forty years ago?

We were happy then, we are happy now,
So tell me the difference, Frank."
"It isn't much," he said with a smile-
I gathered a million from the pile,
And locked it up in the bank."

THE SHIP OF FAITH.

A certain colored brother had been holding forth to his little flock upon the ever fruitful topic of Faith, and he closed his exhortation about as follows:

My bruddren, ef yous gwine to git saved, you got to git on board de Ship ob Faith. I tell you, my

bruddren, dere ain't no odder way.

Dere ain't no

'cross lots; you

gittin' up de back stairs, nor goin' can't do dat a-way, my bruddren; you got to git on board de Ship ob Faith. Once 'pon a time dere was a lot ob colored people, an' dey was all gwine to de promised land. Well, dey knowed dere wan't no odder way for 'em to do but to git on board de Ship ob Faith. So dey all went down an' got on board— de ole granfadders, an' de ole granmudders, an' de pickaninnies, an' all de res' ob 'em. Dey all got on board 'ceptin' one mons'us big feller; he said he's gwine to swim, he was. "W'y!" dey said, “you can't swim so fur like dat. It am a powerful long way to de promised land!" He said, “I kin swim anywhar, I kin. I git 'board no boat, no, 'deed!" Well, my bruddren, all dey could say to dat pore disluded man dey couldn't git him on board de Ship ob Faith, so dey started off. De day was fair, de win' right, de sun shinin', an' everyt'ng b'utiful; an' dis big feller he plunge in de water. Well, he war a powerful swimmer, dat man, 'deed he war; he war dat powerful he kep' right 'long side de boat all de time; he kep' a hollerin' out to de people on de boat, sayin': “What you doin' dere, you folks, brilin' away in de sun? you better come down here in de water; nice an' cool down here." But dey said: "Man alive, you better come up here in dis boat while you got a chance." But he said: "No, indeedy! I git 'board no boat; I'm havin' plenty fun in de water." Well, bimeby, my bruddren, what you tink dat pore man seen? A horrible, awful shark, my bruddren; mouf wide open; teef more'n a foot long, ready to chaw dat pore man all up de minute he catch him. Well, when he seen dat shark, he begin to git awful scared, an' he holler out to de

folks on board de ship: "Take me on board, take me on board, quick!" But dey said: “No, indeed; you wouldn't come up here when you had an invite; you got to swim, now."

He look over his shoulder an' he seen dat shark a-comin', an' he let hisself out. Fust it was de man, an' den it was de shark, an' den it was de man agin, dat a-way, my bruddren, plum to de promised land. Dat am de blessed troof I'm a-tellin' you dis minute. But what do you t'ink was a-waitin' for him on de odder shore when he got dere? A horrible, awful lion, my bruddren, was a-stan'in' dere on de shore, a-lashin' his sides wid his tail, an' a-roarin' away fit to devour dat pore nigger de minit he git on de shore. Well, he war powerful scared den; he didn't know what he gwine to do. If he stay in de water de shark eat him up; if he go on de shore de lion eat him up; he dunno But he put his trust in de Lord, an' went for de shore. Dat lion he give a fearful roar an' bound for him; but, my bruddren, as sure as you live an' breeve, dat horrible, awful lion he jump clean ober dat pore feller's head into de water; an' de shark eat de lion. But, my bruddren, don't you put your trust in no sich circumstance; dat pore man he done git saved, but I tell you de Lord ain't a-gwine to furnish a lion for ebery nigger!

what to do.

THE CURSE OF REGULUS.

The palaces and domes of Carthage were burning with the splendors of noon, and the blue waves of her harbor were rolling and gleaming in the gorgeous sunlight. An attentive ear could catch a low murmur, sounding from the center of the city, which seemed like the moaning of the wind before a tempest.

And well it might. The whole people of Carthage, startled, astounded by the report that Regulus had returned, were pouring, a mighty tide, into the great square before the Senate House. There were mothers in that throng, whose captive sons were groaning in Roman fetters; maidens, whose lovers were dying in the distant dungeons of Rome; gray-haired men and matrons, whom Roman steel had made childless; men, who were seeing their country's life crushed out by Roman power; and with wild voices, cursing and groaning, the vast throng gave vent to the rage, the hate, the anguish of long years.

Calm and unmoved as the marble walls around him, stood Regulus, the Roman! He stretched his arm over the surging crowd with a gesture as proudly imperious, as though he stood at the head of his own gleaming cohorts. Before that silent command the tumult ceased-the half-uttered execration died upon. the lip-so intense was the silence that the clank of the captive's brazen manacles smote sharp on every ear, as he thus addressed them :

"Ye doubtless thought, judging of Roman virtue by your own, that I would break my plighted faith, rather than by returning, and leaving your sons and brothers to rot in Roman dungeons, to meet your vengeance. Well, I could give reasons for this return, foolish and inexplicable as it seems to you; I could speak of yearnings after immortality-of those eternal principles in whose pure light a patriot's death is glorious, a thing to be desired; but, by great Jove! I should debase myself to dwell on such high themes to you. If the bright blood which feeds my heart were like the slimy ooze that stagnates in your veins, I should have remained at Rome, saved my life and

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