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ent butter, or the kick of a young cow, and more unselfish than a kitten's first caterwaul.
As a sony-bird hankers for the light of day, the cautious mouse for the fresh bacon in the trap, as a mean pup hankers after new milk, so I long for thee.
You are fairer than a speckled pullet, sweeter than a Yankee doughnut fried in sorghum molasses, brighter than a topknot plumage on a muscovy duck. You are candy, kisses, raisins, pound cake, and sweetened toddy all together.
If these remarks will enable you to see the inside of my soul, and me to win your affections, I shall be as happy as a woodpecker on a cherry tree, or a stage-horse in a green pasture. If you cannot reciprocate my thrilling passion, I will pine away like a poisoned bedbug, and fall away from a flourishing vine of life, an untimely branch; and in the coming years, when the shadows grow from the hills, and the philosophical frog sings his cheerful evening hymns, you, happy in another's love, can come and drop a tear and-catch a cold upon the last resting-place of Yours affectionately,
THE DEATH-RIDE.- WESTLAND MARSTON.
A TALE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE.
“We sat mute on our chargers, a handful of men, As the foe's broken columns swept on to the glen,
Like torn trees when the whirlwind comes: Cloven helm and rent banner grew dim to our ken,
And faint was the throb of their drums.
"But, no longer pursued, where the gorge opens deep, They halt; with their guns they crowd level and steep,
Seems each volley some monster's breath,
From his ambushed cavern of death.
“Their foot throng the defile, they surge on the bank;
Peer the muskets--a grisly flock:
And wait, fixed, for an army's shock.
“Far in front of our lines, a dot on the plain :
At our side gallant Nolan drew :
Was his message-Advance, pursue!'
“Pursue them!- What, charge with our hundreds the foe Whose massed thousands await us in order below!
Yes, such were his words. To (lebate
And, knowing, encounter our fate.
“We ride our last march--let each crest be borne high! We raise our last cheer-let it startle the sky
And the land with one brave farewell; For soon nevermore to our voice shall reply
Rock, hollow, fringed river, or dell.
"Let our trump ring its loudest ; in closest array,
Reviews is, is Death the Victorious :
'Enrol them--the fall'n are the glorious!'
"We spur to the gorge, from its channel of ire
As the spars of some vessel staunch,
But in the mid-tempest we launch.
“We cleave the smoke-billows, as wild waves the prow; The flash of our sabres gleams straight like the glow
Which a ploughing keel doth break
And light in her surging wake.
“We dash full on their guns--through the flare and the roar Stood the gunners bare-armed; now they stand there no
more; The war-throat waits dunb for the ball: For those men pale and mazed to the chine we shore,
And their own cannons' smoke was their pall.
“That done, we're at bay; for the foe, with a yell Piles his legions around us. Their bayonets swell
Line on line; we are planted in steel: * Good carbine! trusty blade! Each shot is a knell,
Each sword-sweep à fate--they reel!' “One by one fall our men, each girt with his slain, A death-star with belts! "Charge! we break them!'-19
vain! From the heights their batteries roar! The fire-sluices burst; through that flood, in a rain
Of iron, we strike for the shore. "Thunder answers to thunder, bolts darken the air, To breathe is to die; their funeral glare
The lit hills on our brave ones rolled : What of that? They had entered the lists with Despair,
And the lot which they met they foretold.
Of the swimmers who stemmed it that day,
And wish we were even as they.”
O Britain, my country! Thy heart be the tomb
The sure doom which they well foreknew;
Duty beckon-and followed her through.
She told not of trophies,--of medal or star,
Or how England's coasts shall resound
As they leap upon English ground.
"Oh, welcome, ye valiant and tried!”
She only said “Die!” and they died.
And thou, Britain-thou mother bereft-
“ARE YOU A MASON?”
Rev. Mr. Magill, Rector of St. Paul's Church, Peru, Illinois being asked the above question by a lady, responded as follows:
I am of a band
Who will faithfully stand
I have knocked at the door,
Once wretched and poor,
By the help of a friend,
Who assistance did lend,
Was received in the West,
By command of the East,
Here my conscience was taught
With a moral quite fraught
Then onward I traveled,
To have it unraveled,
Very soon to the East
I måde known my request,
When lo! I perceived,
In due form revealed,
Thus far I have stated
And simply related
But I've passed” since then,
And was “raised” up again
Then onward I marched,
That I might be “arched,"
When behold! a bright Aame,
From the midst of which came
Through the “veils” I then went,
And succeeded at length
By the “Signet" I gained,
In the depths I then wrought,
And most cheerfully sought
And by labor and toil
I discovered rich spoil,
Having thus far arrived,
I further contrived
And as Pilgrim and Knight
I stood ready to fight,
For the widow distressed
There's a chord in my breast;
And my sword I could draw
To maintain the pure law
Thus have I revealed
(Yet wisely concealed,)
I am one of the band
Who will faithfully stand
ORATORY AND THE PRESS.-DANIEL DOUGHIERTY.
The grand days of oratory are gone forever. It is not improbable that the teeming future may give birth to those whose resplendent genius will deservedly rank them among the immortals of the past. Certain it is that Oratory can never be lost while Liberty survives.
Twin born with Freedom, then with her took breath,
That art whose dying will be Freedom's death. But for all this, the glory, the pride, and the power of the orator have passed away. In the classical commonwealthy