one or two that pre-eminently illustrate his habit of poThe waif of his now current is

etical thought.

BY-AND-BY.

There's a little mischief-maker

That is slealing half our bliss,
Sketching pictures in a dreamland
That are never seen in this;
Dashing from our lips the pleasure
Of the present, while we sigh:
You may know this mischief-maker,
For his name is "By-and-By."

He is sitting by our hearthstones
With his sly, bewitching glance,
Whispering of the coming morrow
As the social hours advance;
Loitering 'mid our calm reflections,
Hiding forms of beauty nigh:
He's a smooth, deceitful fellow,
This enchanter, "By-and-By."

You may know him by his wincing,
By his careless, sportive air;
By his sly, obtrusive presence,

That is straying everywhere
By the trophies that he gathers

Where his somber victims lie;
For a bold, determined fellow

Is this conqueror, "By-and-By."

When the calls of duty haunt us,

And the present seems to be
All the time that ever mortals

Down in the valley under the hill,

Droppeth the snow-flakes white and still,
Wrapping the violet, near my feet,
Cold and stiff in its winding sheet.
Many, alas! are the flowers that lie,
Cold and pale, 'neath the winter sky,
Many the dear ones sleeping low
Under the sheet of driven snow.

Press it gently, the precious mound-
Pure and white be it ever found;
Holy angels their vigils keep
Where my darling was laid in sleep.
Cold and wintry the earth may be,
Yet my spirit will stay with thee;

Morning and night my heart will go
Out in the valley under the snow.

When through the wintry vales of time

Wanders the spring of that heavenly clime,
When these fetters of sin and death
Melt away in its genial breath--

When the light from the "golden hills"
Earth's drear winter with gladness thrills,
Precious flowers will bloom, I know,

Lifeless now 'neath the winter snow.

As we have said, Prof. Barker generally chooses common-place themes, and how he treats them this will fairly show:

DARNING STOCKINGS.

Were there never a standing record,

To measure time's rapid flight,

Were there never a clock or dial,

I should know it were Saturday night;

I should know by the pile of stockings
In the basket on the floor,

That the "six days' work" was ended,
And another week was o'er;

And the balls upon the table
Of white and twisted yarn,

The needle, smooth and shining,
That was only made to "darn;"
And the patient, busy stitching,
With the weaving to and fro,
While a careful eye is watching

For the rents in heel and toe.

And every breach is mended

In a manner most complete

A dozen, neat and tidy,

For as many busy feet;
Then off in the quiet dreamland
With a spirit gentle and light,
The pale and thoughtful watcher
Is welcoming Saturday night.

Let us learn from darning stockings
A lesson of patient love,

From the midst of the selfish shadows

Let our spirits mount above;

The children of woe, we 'll befriend them,

Whoever the sufferers be,

We'll seek for their faults but to mend them

With "stitchings" of charity.

Prof. Barker is yet on the morning side of fifty. He was born near the eastern shore of Lake Champlain, in Vermont. His father was Nathan B. Barker, of the real Puritan stock-fought in the war of 1812while his father was a Green Mountain Boy, of revolutionary memory. It was in New Hampshire, whither his parents had removed, that Prof. Barker began his school life, and there he fitted for college, entering the school-room though, if we mistake not, instead of college halls. In 1845 he came to Western New York, and in this section has most of his subsequent life been spent, behind the teacher's desk, or in the editor's sancFor the past eight or ten years he has been fre

tum.

quently engaged in conducting Teachers' Institutes under appointment by the State Superintendent.

As a teacher Prof. Barker has been uniformly successful, and in the profession of teaching he takes high rank. Few men have more friends among the teachers of the State than has he. The fact that he was elected President of the State Teachers' Association in 1868, testifies to his popularity. He has three times read the annual poem before this Association, with marked acceptance. One of these annual productions, entitled "Flats and Sharps," has been delivered by him on several other public occasions. He has often read poems before literary societies. In 1861 he appeared, as the poet, before certain societies of Hillsdale College, Mich., at their commencement gathering, and on commencement day the college gave him the degree of "A. M.”

Prof. Barker took to writing very young, and when sixteen first enjoyed the sight of some of his verses in print. They were published in The Farmers' Cabinet, a paper printed at Amherst, N. H., in the office in which Horace Greeley learned his trade. Since then his poems have been very numerous, and have appeared in various newspapers and magazines, the Buffalo Courier, of late years, being his favorite medium of publication. He has contributed several poems to The Rural Home, one of which he has rarely excelled: