The license bought, he marries her in haste, Brings home his bride, and gives his friends a gay day; All his relations, wondering at his taste, Vowed he had better had the Pig-faced Lady! Struck with this monstrous lump of womankind, The thought of money never crossed their mind. The dinner o'er, the ladies and the bride Retired, and wine and chat went round jocosely; And questioned him about the matter closely: Eve's grandmother, with the serpent's head on! Upstairs they went:-"There, there's her picture! say, "Like her, Sir Peter!-take it not uncivil'Tis like her-and as ugly as the devil; With just her squinting leer; but, hang it! what A very handsome frame it's got,— So richly gilt, and so superbly wrought!" "You're right," says Peter, "twas the frame that caught: I grant my wife is ugly, squabby, old, But still she pleases-being set in gold; Let others for the picture feel a flame, I, my good brother, married for the frame." BEN FISHER.-FRANCES DANA GAGE. Ben Fisher had finished his harvesting, One foot on the rail, and one on the ground, There were stains of toil on his wamus red, But a twinkle of pleasure was in his eye, "Here, give me the babe, dear Kate, you are tired, You must rest, and pick up a little, I think, I'd hate to be taking fat cattle, you know, Fat hogs, fat sheep, and fat cows, With a wife at my elbow as poor as a crow, N Can't go! Why not? 'Can't afford the expense'! I know, Kate, our crops aren't the best; But we've labored together to keep things along, The frost blighted the fruit, but 'Brindle' is prime, Your butter and cheese can't be beat in the State, "You've ne'er seen a city, and Cleveland is fine,- Ne'er rode in a rail-car, nor been in a throng,— And gather new feelings, new thoughts, and new ways, And garner up strength in head, heart, and hand, "I sometimes have thought, as I plodded along, That another who had such a real hard time, But when I've been called from my home for a while, I've come back to toil with a light, cheerful heart, "I wonder that mothers don't wholly despair, But walk the same tread-wheel of duty for years, For toil never ending, and labor uncheered, Kate looked up with a smile, and said, "Beh, we will go; Horses swifter of foot, cows finer by far, Better butter and cheese, fruit and flowers; But there's one thing, I claim, that can't be surpassed I would not exchange for a kingdom to boot'— THE THREE BELLS.-JOHN G. WHITTIER. This poem refers to the well-known rescue of the crew of an American vessel, siaking in mid-ocean, by Captain Leighton, of the English ship Three Bells. Unable to take them off, in the night and the storm, he stayed by them until morning, shouting to them from time to time through his trumpet, "Never fear, hold on, I'll stand by you." Beneath the low-hung night cloud The cruel leak gained fast. Over the awful ocean Her signal guns pealed out; From the horror round about? A voice came down the wild wind,- Hour after hour crept slowly, Tossed up and down the ship-lights,- And ship to ship made signals; And the captain from her taffrail All night across the waters The tossing lights shone clear; And when the dreary watches Sail on, Three Bells, forever, As thine, in night and tempest, The lights of God draw nigh. Atlantic Monthly. A FOREST HYMN.-W. C. BRYANT. The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the roof above them,-ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of anthems; in the darkling wood, Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down, For his simple heart Might not resist the sacred influences Which, from the stilly twilight of the place, Ah, why Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect Only among the crowd, and under roofs That our frail hands have raised? Let me, at least, Here, in the shadow of this ancient wood, Father, thy hand Hath reared these venerable columns; thou Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down These dim vaults, These winding aisles, of human pomp or pride The boast of our vain race to change the form In music; thou art in the cooler breath That from the inmost darkness of the place Comes, scarcely felt; the barky trunks, the ground, The fresh, moist ground, are all instinct with thee. Here is continual worship; nature, here, In the tranquillity that thou dost love, Enjoys thy presence. Noiselessly, around, From perch to perch, the solitary bird Passes; and yon clear spring, that, midst its herbs, Of all the good it does. Thou hast not left This mighty oak, Wears the green coronal of leaves with which Of the broad sun. That delicate forest flower |