banks of the Mediterranean, the two cities look each other in the face. The sea no longer keeps them apart. Europe and Africa weigh upon each other. Like two clouds surcharged with electricity, they impend. With their contact must come the thunder-shock.

The catastrophe of this stupendous drama is at hand. What actors are met! Two Races,-that of merchants and mariners, that of laborers and soldiers; two Nations, -the one dominant by gold, the other by steel; two Republics, the one theocratic, the other aristocratic. Rome and Carthage! Rome with her army, Carthage with her fleet; Carthage, old, rich, and crafty,-Rome, young, poor, and robust; the past, and the future; the spirit of discovery, and the spirit of conquest; the genius of commerce, the demon of war; the East and the South on one side, the West and the North on the other; in short, two worlds, -the civilization of Africa, and the civilization of Europe. They measure each other from head to foot. They gather all their forces. Gradually the war kindles. The world takes fire. These colossal powers are locked in deadly strife. Carthage has crossd the Alps; Rome, the seas. The two Nations, personified in two men, Hannibal and Scipio, close with each other, wrestle, and grow infuriate. The duel is desperate. It is a struggle for life. Rome wavers. She utters that cry of anguish-Hannibal at the gates! But she rallies,-collects all her strength for one last, appalling effort,-throws herself upon Carthage, and sweeps her from the face of the earth!

THE QUILTING.-ANNA BACHE.

THE day is set, the ladies met,

And at the frame are seated,

In order placed. they work in haste,
To get the quilt completed;

While fingers fly, their tongues they ply,
And animate their labors

By counting beaux, discussing clothes,

Or talking of their neighbors.

Dear! what a pretty frock you've on;" "I'm very glad you like it ;" "I'm told that Miss Micomicon Don't speak to Mr. Micate." "I saw Miss Belle, the other day, Young Green's new gig adorning ;" "What keeps your sister Ann away?" "She went to town this morning.'

"T's time to roll;' "my needle's broke;"
"So Martin's stock is selling."
"Louisa's wedding gown's bespoke;"
"Lend me your scissors, Ellen ;'
"That match will never come about;"
"Now don't fly in a passion ;"

"Hair puffs they say are going out;"
"Yes, curls are all the fashion."

The quilt is done, the tea begun,
The beaux are all collecting;
The table's cleared, the music's heard,-
His partner each selecting ;-
The merry band in order stand,
The dance begins with vigor,
And rapid feet the measure beat,
And trip the mazy figure.

Unheeded fly the minutes by,

"Old time" himself is dancing,
Till night's dull eye is op'ed to spy
The light of morn advancing.
All closely stowed; to each abode
The carriages go tilting;

And many a dream has for its theme

The pleasures of the quilting.

GILES AND ABRAHAM.-ELMER RUAN COATES.

OLD Giles, the undertaker, sat
In his cosy, village home;
He struck a light and lit his pipe
And puffed and puffed, alone.

He thought of those who'd gone to God-
Those HE had laid beneath the sod,

And he quoth: "In the grave we will ALL be laid,
And there'll ever be some in the coffin trade."

The old grave digger tapped at the door,
One Abraham by name;

Giles gave to him the great arm-chair
And asked him of his dame.

Said he "Well, Giles, has old King Death
Been robbing any one of breath?

At the store, I have purchased a beautiful spade,
And have come in to talk of the coffin trade.

"Ah, Abraham !" said good old Giles,
"Just come to the window side;
A wedding night across the way-
Behold the lovely bride;

She's danced herself to a fever heat,
With paper soles on her little feet;
With her arms and neck and bosom bare,
She stands at the door for the cold night air.
There'll some day be use for that beautiful spade,
And I'll keep up my stock for the coffin trade."

Said Abraham: "Our neighbor Brown
Drinks harder every day."

Giles said: "I fear for neighbor Brown,
Rum seems to have its way.

And thus it is with alcohol

It rules, and men will surely fall;

Maybe they'll stop a week or so,

But again they drink and down they go;And so there is use for that beautiful spade, And I buy me new boards for the coffin trade.

"Our merchant wears away his flesh
And frets himself for gain;
Our lawyer is but skin and bone,
And this for early fame;

Our editor will burn his light,
And tax his power, half the night;
Our doctor in his drive for wealth
Becomes unmindful of his health;
Our politician never sees
A quiet home or day of ease;
And others, in a hundred ways,
Are madly shortening their days.”

Said Abraham: "All this is so,

And, one by one, they're sure to go;
So I will have use for my beautiful spade,
And you will continue the coffin trade.

"Good night to you, my old friend Giles."
"Good night to you, friend Lane.”
The former dropped a fervent tear,
The latter did the same.

Said Giles, who looked him in the eye,
"Friend Abraham-we, too, must die!"
And, here, he firmly held his hand,
And both were lost to self-command.
"Yes, Abraham, we, too, must go
From all we love and prize below.
They'll say, 'Old Lane and Giles are dead;'
Some tears will flow, some words be said
In our village ground we'll BOTH be laid;
The dirt may be thrown by that beautiful spade,
And we, in our turn, help the coffin trade."

;

PRAYERS OF CHILDREN.

IN the quiet nursery chambers,—
Snowy pillows yet unpressed,—
See the forms of little children

Kneeling, white-robed, for their rest.

All in quiet nursery chambers,
While the dusky shadows creep,
Hear the voices of the children;
"Now I lay me down to sleep."

In the meadow and the mountain
Calmly shine the Winter stars,
But across the glistening lowlands
Stand the moonlight's silver bars.
In the silence and the darkness,

Darkness growing still more deep,
Listen to the little children,

Praying God their souls to keep.

"If we die"-so pray the children,
And the mother's head droops low,
One from out her fold is sleeping

Deep beneath the winter's snow

Our heads are growin' gray, dear wife; our hearts are beatin'

slow;

In a little while the Master will call for us to go.

When we reach the pearly gateways, and look in with joyful

eyes,

We'll see no stylish worship in the temple of the skies.

JENKINS GOES TO A PIC-NIC.

MARIA Ann recently determined to go to a pic-nic. Maria Ann is my wife-unfortunately she had planned it to go alone, so far as I am concerned, on that pic-nic excursion; but when I heard about it, I determined to assist. She pretended she was very glad, I don't believe she was.

"It will do you good to get away from your work a day, poor fellow," she said; "and we shall so much enjoy a cool morning ride on the cars, and a dinner in the woods."

On the morning of that day, Maria Ann got up at 5 o'clock. About three minutes later she disturbed my slum. bers, and told me to come to breakfast. I told her I wasn't hungry, but it didn't make a bit of difference, I had to get up. The sun was up; I had no idea that the sun began business so early in the morning, but there he was.

"Now," said Maria Ann, "we must fly around, for the cars start at half-past six. Eat all the breakfast you can for you won't get anything more before noon."

I could not eat anything so early in the morning. There was ice to be pounded to go around the pail of ice cream, and the sandwiches to be cut, and I thought 1 would never get the legs of the chicken fixed so that 1 could get the cover on the big basket. Maria Ann flew around and piled up groceries for me to pack, giving directions to the girl about taking care of the house, and putting on her dress all at once. There is a deal of energy in that woman, perhaps a trifle too much.

At twenty minutes past six I stood on the front steps with a basket on one arm and Maria Ann's waterproof on the other and a pail in each hand, and a bottle of vinegar