"Dey calls me Daddy Wufless," thought The negro to himself.

"Dey'll take back dat ar name befo'

I'se laid upon de shelf.

I'd like to spite ole Satan once-
He tinks to him I'll go;
But I has got some money saved
In an ole stockin'-toe.
I tought dat ar money might
My freedom-papers buy;
But when a man sees duty clar,
And, sneakin', lets it lie,
It had been better for dat man,
As Judas Scarrot said,

If he'd been frown into de sea,
A meal-sack roun' his head."

And so the old man's money bought
A horse and water-cart,

And every day he drove about
The city streets and mart.

And sick men tossing on their beds

Of fever and of pain,

Said, as they feebly raised their heads, "I hear the sound of rain,

As when in nights of childhood passed,
Upon the roof and pane.

The air is fresher than it was,
And I can breathe again."
The last in every funeral train
His water-cart passed by;

And, as he went, he often sang,

With thin voice, cracked and high,

"Dar's bressing in baptizing drops:
Dey dribes de debble out.
De rain dat falls upon de fields,
It makes de taters sprout.

Den sprinkle, sprinkle, sprinkle,
While de bells go tinkle, tinkle,
Swing low, ole chariot,

We'll dribe ole Satan out!"

The scourge is lifted from the town;
But he who died for it

Lies buried, like a faithful hound,
Beside his master's feet.

And when I tread that burial-ground,
The tears unbidden start

To honor "Daddy Wufless" and

The old man's sprinkling-cart.

THAT HIRED GIRL.

THE CLERGYMAN'S RECEPTION ON HIS INITIAL CALL IN HIS NEW PARISH.

When she came to work for the family on Congress street, the lady of the house sat down and told her that agents, book-peddlers, hat-rack men, picture sellers, ash-buyers, ragmen, and all that class of people must be met at the front door and coldly repulsed, and Sarah said she'd repulse them if she had to break every broomstick in Detroit.

And she did. She threw the door open wide, bluffed right up at 'em, and when she got through talking, the cheekiest agent was only too glad to leave. It got so after awhile that peddlers marked that house, and the door-bell never rang except for company.

The other day, as the girl of the house was wiping off the spoons, the bell rang. She hastened to the door, expecting to see a lady, but her eyes encountered a slim man, dressed in black and wearing a white necktie. He was the new minister, and was going around to get acquainted with the members of his flock, but Sarah wasn't expected to know this.

"Ah-um-is-Mrs.-ah!"

"Git!" exclaimed Sarah, pointing to the gate.

66

Beg pardon, but I would like to see-see-"

"Meander!" she shouted, looking around for a weapon; "we don't want any flour-sifters here!"

"You're mistaken," he replied, smiling blandly. "I called to-"

Don't want anything to keep moths away-fly!" she exclaimed, getting red in the face.

"Is the lady in?" he inquired, trying to look over Sarah's head.

"Yes, the lady is in, and I'm in, and you are out!" she snapped; "and now I don't want to stand here talking to a fly-trap agent any longer! Come, lift your boots!" "I'm not an agent," he

new-"

said, trying to smile. "I'm the

'Yes, I know you--you are the new man with the patent flat-iron, but we don't want any, and you'd better go before I call the dog!"

"Will you give the lady my card, and say that I called?" "No, I won't; we are bored to death with cards and handbills and circulars. Come, I can't stand here all day."

"Didn't you know that I was a minister?" he asked as he backed off.

"No, nor I don't know it now; you look like the man who sold the woman next door a dollar chromo for eighteen shillings."

"But here is my card."

"I don't care for cards, I tell you! If you leave that gate open I will have to fling a flower-pot at you!"

"I will call again," he said, as he went through the gate. "It won't do any good!" she shouted after him; "we don't want no prepared food for infants-no piano music-no stuffed birds! I know the policeman on this beat, and if you come around here again, he'll soon find out whether you are a confidence man or a vagrant!"

And she took unusual care to lock the door.

-Detroit Free Press.

FAITH AND REASON.-LIZZIE YORK CASE.

Two travelers started on a tour,

With trust and knowledge laden;

One was a man with mighty brain,

And one a gentle maiden.

They joined their hands and vowed to be

Companions for a season;

The gentle maiden's name was Faith,

The mighty man's was Reason.

He sought all knowledge from the world,
And every world anear it;

All matter and all mind were his,

But her's was only spirit.

If any stars were missed from heaven,
His telescope could find them;
But while he only found the stars,
She found the God behind them.

He sought for truth above, below,
All hidden things revealing;
She only sought it woman-wise,
And found it in her feeling.

He said, "This earth's a rolling ball,
And so doth science prove it;"
He but discovered that it moves,
She found the springs that move it.
He reads with geologic eye
The record of the ages;
Unfolding strata, he translates
Earth's wonder-written pages.
He digs around a mountain base,
And measures it with plummet;
She leaps it with a single bound,
And stands upon the summit.

He brings to light the hidden force
In Nature's labyrinths lurking,
And binds it to his onward car
To do his mighty working.

He sends his message 'cross the earth,
And down where sea gems glisten;
She sendeth hers to God himself,
Who bends his ear to listen.

All things in beauty, science, art,
In common they inherit;
But he has only clasped the form,
While she has clasped the spirit.
God's wall infinite now looms up
Before Faith and her lover;
But while he tries to scale its heights,
She has gone safely over.

He tries, from earth, to forge a key
To ope the gate of heaven;
That key is in the maiden's heart,
And back its bolts are driven.
They part. Without her all is dark,
His knowledge vain and hollow;
For Faith has entered in with God,
Where Reason may not follow.

THE DUMB CHILD.

She is my only girl,

I asked for her as some most precious thing;
For all unfinished was love's jeweled ring,
Till set with this soft pearl.

The shadow that time brought forth I could not see,
How pure, how perfect seemed the gift to me!

Oh! many a soft old tune

I used to sing unto that deafened ear,
And suffered not the slightest footstep near,
Lest she might wake too soon;

And hushed her brothers' laughter while she lay.
Ah, needless care! I might have let them play.

'Twas long ere I believed

That this one daughter might not speak to me;
Waited and watched-God knows how patiently!
How willingly deceived!

Vain love was long the untiring nurse of faith,
And tended hope until it starved to death.

Oh! if she could but hear

For one short hour, till I her tongue might teach To call me mother, in the broken speech

That thrills the mother's ear!

Alas! those sealed lips never may be stirred
To the deep music of that holy word.

My heart it sorely tries,

To see her kneel with such a reverent air
Beside her brothers at their evening prayer;
Or lift those earnest eyes

To watch our lips as though our words she knew,
Then move her own, as she were speaking, too.

I've watched her looking up
To the bright wonder of a sunset sky,
With such a depth of meaning in her eye,
That I could almost hope

The struggling soul would burst its binding cords,
And the long-pent-up thoughts flow forth in words.

The song of bird and bee,

The chorus of the breezes, streams and groves,
All the grand music to which Nature moves,
Are wasted melody

To her; the world of sound a tuneless void;
While even silence hath its charm destroyed.

Her face is very fair;

Her blue eye beautiful; of finest mold
The soft white brow, o'er which, in waves of gold
Ripples her shining hair.

Alas! this lovely temple closed must be,
For He who made it keeps the master key.

Wills He the mind within

Should from earth's Babel-clamor be kept free, E'en that His still, small voice and step might be

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