his toothless gums, wholly inadequate for the hoe-cake, confirmed my previous impression. The spruce darkey who followed him, ogling "Lucy Long" through an eyeglass, could be no other than "Dandy Jim of Caroline."

The "Bould Soger Boy" came strutting along, brandishing "The Sword of Bunker Hill," in an audacious manner; and the "Minstrel returned from the War" fol lowed after, sweeping the melancholy strings of "The Harp that once through Tara's Halls," "The soul of Music under a Shed," or words to that effect.

"Old Dog Tray," barking fiercely at the door, proclaimed that "Somebody's Coming," and in marched "Yankee Doodle" wrapped in the "Star Spangled Ban ner," and leading by the hand a rare and radiant maiden, known as "Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean." A noblelooking, well-preserved old gentleman by the name of Columbia, who, on account of his hale and hearty appearance, was called "Hale Columbia," followed Mr. Doodle, and kept a bright eye upon the young woman, who was doubtless a relation of his, on her father and mother's side. A spacious walk back of the mansion, paved with "Shells of Ocean," led to

"The sea, the sea, the open sea,

The broad, the blue, the ever free,"

and on the beach stood "A Dark Girl Dressed in Blue" wringing her hands in a frantic manner, and crying wildly because "Jamie's on the S-t-o-r-my Sea." As she afterward got into the "Gum Tree Canoe" and signified her intention to cross "Over the Water to Charlie," I concluded that she couldn't be much of a gentleman.

My attention was here directed to a young man who was on his knees before a piratical-looking chap, who was about to pitch him into the sea from a lofty cliff. The young man pleaded-" Bury me not in the deep, deep sea," to which the piratical chap chanted hoarsely "My name is Captain Kidd, as I sailed, as I sailed," wholly neglecting to state what his name was when he wasn't sailing, and pitched him in. Captain Kidd, it will be remembered, acquired some notoriety for taking "Life on the Ocean Wave." "Tis said he took life remarkably easy.

A poor Swiss girl was crying-"Take me back to Switzerland," and "Gaffer Green," standing by, remarked to his particular friend, "Robin Ruff," that he would take her back, besides doing a variety of other charitable things -"If I had but a thousand a year." Robin wiped away a tear and said it was ruff. That he hadn't a thousand a year must have been "Wearin' of the (Gaffer) Green."

As I retraced my steps to the mansion, fearing that they would "Miss me at Home," I was met by a female who began, "I'd offer thee this hand of mine," but I interrupted her by saying "I'm o'er young to marry yet," and slipped away, quite unmindful of her request to "Meet me by Moonlight Alone."

Arrived at "The balls, the halls of dazzling light," I found "Old Dan Tucker," too late, as usual, for his evening meal, relating his escape from parties who, as he said, were trying to “ Carry me back to Old Virginia," in utter defiance of the Freedmen's Bureau. He gave them the slip at the "Camptown Races," where he "Harnessed up the Mules," to the "Low Backed Car," and made his escape from "Way down South in Dixie." Dan wore the "Last Rose of Summer," (or summer before last,) in his button-hole, and created quite a sensation as he went "marching on."

A hall was cleared for the pleasures of the dance, and when music arose from several voluptous swells in the orchestra, soft eyes looked love to softer heads which spake again, and all went merry as a married belle. One man of melancholy aspect and seedy appearance, seated in an obscure corner, was invited to join, but he said he couldn't he was "Hard up!" He was afterward found cutting it gay in an Irish jig, at " Finnegan's Wake," and singing, "Oh, ain't I Hun ki-do-ri.”

During a lull in the dance, "Ben Bolt" amused the company with the Sailor's Hornpipe," which he executed in fine style.

The company broke up in the "Wee sma' hours," and as they sought "Home, sweet Home," oft on that silly night would I hear their songs. While a number of jolly fellows a "Coming through the Rye" (put up in quart bottles), were singing, "We won't go home till morning,"I awoke.

PLATONIC.-WILLIAM B. TERRETT.

I HAD Sworn to be a bachelor, she had sworn to be a maid, For we quite agreed in doubting whether matrimony paid; Besides we had our higher loves, fair science ruled my heart. And she said her young affections were all wound up in art.

So we laughed at those wise men, who say, that friendship can not live

Twixt man and woman, unless each has something more to give;

We would be friends, and friends as true as e'er were man and

man

I'd be a second David, and she Miss Jonathan.

We scorned all sentimental trash-vows, kisses, tears and sighs;

High friendship, such as ours, might well such childish arts despise;

We liked each other, that was all, quite all there was to say, So we just shook hands upon it, in a business sort of way.

We shared our secrets and our joys, together hoped and feared, With common purpose, sought the goal that young Ambition reared;

We dreamed together of the days, the dream-bright days tc

come;

We were strictly confidential, and we called each other "chum."

And many a day we wandered together o'er the hills,

I seeking bugs and butterflies, and she, the ruined mills

And rustic bridges and the like, that picture-makers prize
To run in with their waterfalls, and groves, and summer skies.

And many a quiet evening, in hours of silent ease,
We floated down the river, or strolled beneath the trees,
And talked in long gradation, from the poets to the weather,
While the western skies and my cigar burned slowly ou
together.

Yet through it all no whispered word, no tell-tale glance », sigh,

fold aught of warmer sentiment than friendly sympathyWe talked of love as coolly as we talked of Nebulæ,

And thought no more of being one than we did of being thros

"Well, good-bye, chum !" I took her hand, for the time had come to go

My going meant our parting, when to meet, we did not know; I had lingered long, and said farewell with a very heavy heart; For although we were but friends, 'tis hard for honest friends to part.

'Good-bye, old fellow! don't forget your friends beyond the sea,

And some day, when you've lots of time, drop a line or two to me."

The words came lightly, gaily, but a great sob, just behind, Welled upward with a story of quite a different kind.

And then she raised her eyes to mine-great liquid eyes of blue, Filled to the brim, and running o'er, like violet cups of dew; One long, long glance, and then I did, what I never did before Perhaps the tears meant friendship, but I'm sure the kiss meant

more.

I HAVE DRANK MY LAST GLASS.

No, comrades, I thank you-not any for me;
My last chain is riven-henceforward I'm free!
I will go to my home and my children to-night
With no fumes of liquor, their spirits to blight;
And, with tears in my eyes, I will beg my poor wife
To forgive me the wreck I have made of her life.
I have never refused you before? Let that pass,
For I've drank my last glass, boys,

I have drank my last glass.

Just look at me now, boys, in rags and disgrace,

With my bleared, haggard eyes, and my red, bloated face;
Mark my faltering step and my weak palsied hand,

And the mark on my brow that is worse than Cain's brand;
See my crownless old hat, and my elbows and knees,
Alike, warmed by the sun, or chilled by the breeze.
Why, even the children will hoot as I pass;-
But I've drank my last glass, boys,

I have drank my last glass.

You would hardly believe, boys, to look at me now
That a mother's soft hand was pressed on my brow-

When she kissed me, and blessed me, her darling, her pride,—
Ere she laid down to rest by my dead father's si le:

But with love in her eyes, she looked up to the sky,
Bidding me meet her there, and whispered "Good-bye
And I'll do it, God helping! Your smile I let pass,
For I've drank my last glass, boys,

I have drank my last glass.

Ah! I reeled home last night-it was not very late,
For I'd spent my last sixpence, and landlords won't wait
On a fellow, who's left every cent in their till,

And has pawned his last bed, their coffers to fill.
Oh, the torments I felt, and the pangs I endured!

And I begged for one glass-just one would have cured. —
But they kicked me out doors! I let that, too, pass,
For I've drank my last glass, boys,

I have drank my last glass.

At home, my pet Susie, with her rich golden hair,
I saw through the window, just kneeling in prayer;
From her pale, bony hands, her torn sleeves were strung down,
While her feet, cold and bare, shrank beneath her scant gown;
And she prayed-prayed for bread, just a poor crust of bread,--
For one crust, on her knees my pet darling plead!
And I heard, with no penny to buy one, alas!
But I've drank my last glass, boys,

I have drank my last glass.

For Susie, my darling, my wee six-year old,

Though fainting with hunger and shivering with cold,
There, on the bare floor, asked God to bless me !

And she said, "Don't cry, mamma! He will; for you see,
I believe what I ask for ." Then sobered, I crept

Away from the house; and that night, when I slept,
Next my heart lay the PLEDGE! You smile! let it pass,
For I've drank my last glass, boys,

I have drank my last glass.

My darling child saved me! Her faith and her love
Are akin to my dear sainted mother's above!

I will my make words true, or I'll die in the race,

And sober I'll go to my last resting place;

And she shall kneel there, and, weeping, thank God
No drunkard lies under the daisy-strewn sod!

Not a drop more of poisou my lips sha!' e'er pass.
For I've drank my last glass, boys,

I have drank my last glass.