Its body was of thin birdy bones, Bound round with a parchment skin; And when 'twas struck, the hollow tones, That circled round like drum-dull groans, Bespoke a void within. Its arm was like a peacock's leg, And the claws were like a bird's; But the creep that went, like a blast of plague, And to wake the good Saint's inward groans, But the good St. Anthony kept his eyes He felt the clam on his brow arise, And he knew that the thing had a horrid guise An imp came then like a skeleton form Some clinging of meat had been left by the worms, And he grinned full many a lifeless grin, His skull was decked with gill and fin, And his eyes were the eyes of a snail. He took his stand at the good Saint's back Forward he bent, all rotten-black, And he sunk again on his heel, good lack! A horrible embrace! And the skull hung o'er with an elfish pry, The good St. Anthony sunk his eyes He felt the bones, and so was wise To know that the thing had a ghastly guise, Last came an imp-how unlike the rest! A beautiful female form; And her voice was like music, that sleep oppressed And whilst with a whisper, his cheek she pressed, When over his shoulder she bent the light It came like a moonbeam silver bright, Hey! the good St. Anthony boggled his eyes Ho, ho! at the corners they 'gan to rise, There are many devils that walk this world, Devils so meagre, and devils so stout; Serious devils and laughing devils; Devils black and devils white; Devils foolish, and devils wise; But a laughing woman, with two bright eyes Is the very worst devil of all. -Bentley's Miscellany. FOOTPRINTS OF DECAY. Oh! let the soul its slumbers break- To see how soon Life, in its glories, glides away, And while we view the rolling tide, 21 Let us the present hour employ, Let no vain hope deceive the mind, Our golden dreams of yore were bright, Our lives like hastening streams must be, Are doomed to fall The sea of death whose waves roll on Alike the river's lordly tide, Death levels poverty and pride, Our birth is but a starting place; And death the goal: There all our glittering toys are brought— Is found of all. See, then, how poor and little worth That lure us here; Dreams of a sleep that death must break; We disappear. Long ere the damp of death can blight, Youth smiled and all was heavenly fair, Where is the strength that spurned decay, The strength is gone, the step is slow, LITTLE STEENIE.-ANNA L. RUTH. Sturdy Steenie, rose-cheeked, bright-eyed, So I started, musing softly, On the blessings God had given In my children-"Surely," said I, "They are cherubs strayed from heaven! Hearts so full of tender loving, Eyes with earnest impulse bright-- Two hours' labor, home returning Lips a-quiver, cheeks a-flame; Eagerly, to pour her sorrows Into mamma's ears, she came. "Mamma, Steenie's been so naughty! First he told aunt Sallie 'won't,' Then he scratched my little table, Though I asked him 'please to don't!' Then he screeched and waked the baby, And when aunt Belle called him naughty, "Then he made a face at Dolly, Then I told him if he did it You would send him right to bed, So he thumped me on the shoulder,See the place-it's awful red! "When he saw you coming, mamma, He hid hisself behind the door, RRR And he's wearing out his slippers, Does so many drefful things, Up in heaven with shiny wings?" With a sudden jerk, my visions From his stronghold came the culprit, Round his mouth the dimples lurking, In my eyes the tear-drops started, Down my quiv'ring lips to meet his, This was all of his confession; All his plea for pardoning grace, Though I pondered sadly still Inwardly I prayed for wisdom, "Safest guard and guide, O mother, |