been ejected from two guns. Mrs. Simmons at once snatcr ed the heir from the arms of Mr. Jones and hurried it to the window, where she made a careful and critical examination of its mouth, while Mrs. Jones held its head and Mr. Jones danced up and down the room, and snapped his fingers to show how calm he was. It having been ascertained by Mrs. Simmons that the tooth was a sound one, and also that the strongest hopes for its future could be entertained on account of its coming in the new of the moon, Mrs. Jones got out the necessary material and Mr. Jones at once proceeded to write seven different letters to as many persons, unfolding to them the event of the morning and inviting them to come on as soon as possible.

Part Eleventh.

Each of the Four Numbers of

"100 Choice Selections" contained in this volume is paged separately, and the Index is made to corres

pond therewith. See EXPLANATION on Arst page of Contents.

The entire book contains nearly

1000 pages.

100

CHOICE SELECTIONS.

No. 11

THE MOUNTAINS OF LIFE.-J. G. CLARK.

There's a land far away, 'mid the stars we are told,
Where they know not the sorrows of time,—
Where the pure waters wander through valleys of gold,
And life is a treasure sublime ;—

'Tis the land of our God, 'tis the home of the soul,
Where the ages of splendor eternally roll;
Where the way-weary traveler reaches his goal,
On the evergreen Mountains of Life.

Our gaze cannot soar to that beautiful land,
But our visions have told of its bliss,

And our souls by the gale of its gardens are fanned,
When we faint in the desert of this;

And we sometimes have longed for its holy repose,
When our spirits were torn with temptations and woes,
And we've drank from the tide of the river that flows
From the evergreen Mountains of Life.

Oh, the stars never tread the blue heavens at night,
But we think where the ransomed have trod;
And the day never smiles from his palace of light,
But we feel the bright smile of our God!

We are traveling homeward through changes and gloom,
To a kingdom where pleasures unceasingly bloom,

And our guide is the glory that shines through the tomb, From the evergreen Mountains of Life.

"IF THINGS WAS ONLY SICH!"-B. P. SHILLABER.

A seedy old beggar asked alms of me

As he sat 'neath the shade of a wayside tree.

He was beggared in purse and beggared in soul,
And his voice betrayed a pitiful dole,

As he sang a song, to a dismal pitch,

With the burden, "IF THINGS WAS ONLY SICH!"

"If things was only sich," said he,

"You should see what a wonderful man I'd be⚫
No beggar I, by the wayside thrown,
But I'd live in a palace and millions own
And men would court me if I were rich-
As I'd be if things was only sich."

"If things was only sich," said he,

"I'd be lord of the land and lord of the sea;
I would have a throne and be a king,
And rule the roast with a mighty swing-
I'd make a place in fame's bright niche;-
I'd do it if things was only sich."

“If things was only sich," said he,

"Rare wines I'd quaff from the far countree, I'd clothe myself in dazzling garb,

I'd mount the back of the costly barb,

And none should ask me wherefore or which-
Did it chance that things was only sich."

"If things was only sich," said he,

"I'd love the fairest and they'd love me;

Yon dame, with a smile that warms my heart,
Might have borne with me life's better part,
But lost to me, here in poverty's ditch,
What were mine if things was only sich."

Thus the old beggar moodily sung,

And his eyes dropped tears as his hands he wrung.
I could but pity to hear him berate,

In dolorous tones, the decrees of fate,

That laid on his back its iron switch,

While he cried, "If things was only sich."

"If things was only sich!"-e'en all
Might the past in sad review recall;
But little the use and little the gain,
Exhuming the bones of buried pain,—
And whether we're poor or whether we're rich,
We'll say not, "If things was only sich."