ent butter, or the kick of a young cow, and more unselfish than a kitten's first caterwaul. As a song-bird hankers for the light of day, the cautious mouse for the fresh bacon in the trap, as a mean pup hankers after new milk, so I long for thee.

You are fairer than a speckled pullet, sweeter than a Yankee doughnut fried in sorghum molasses, brighter than a topknot plumage on a muscovy duck. You are candy, kisses, raisins, pound cake, and sweetened toddy all together.

If these remarks will enable you to see the inside of my soul, and me to win your affections, I shall be as happy as a woodpecker on a cherry tree, or a stage-horse in a green pasture. If you cannot reciprocate my thrilling passion, I will pine away like a poisoned bedbug, and fall away from a flourishing vine of life, an untimely branch; and in the coming years, when the shadows grow from the hills, and the philosophical frog sings his cheerful evening hymns, you, happy in another's love, can come and drop a tear and-catch a cold upon the last resting-place of

Yours affectionately,

H.

THE DEATH-RIDE.-WESTLAND MARSTON.

A TALE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE.

"We sat mute on our chargers, a handful of men,
As the foe's broken columns swept on to the glen,
Like torn trees when the whirlwind comes:
Cloven helm and rent banner grew dim to our ken,
And faint was the throb of their drums.

"But, no longer pursued, where the gorge opens deep, They halt; with their guns they crowd level and steep, Seems each volley some monster's breath,

Who shows cannon for teeth as he crouches to leap,
From his ambushed cavern of death.

Their foot throng the defile, they surge on the bank; Darts a forest of lances in front; o'er each flank

Peer the muskets-a grisly flock:

They have built their live tower up, rank upon rank,
And wait, fixed, for an army's shock.

"Far in front of our lines, a dot on the plain :
Mute and moveless we sat till his foam-flecked rein
At our side gallant Nolan drew:

"They still hold our guns, we must have them again,'
Was his message-Advance, pursue!'

"Pursue them!-What, charge with our hundreds the foe Whose massed thousands await us in order below!

Yes, such were his words. To debate

The command was not ours; we had but to know
And, knowing, encounter our fate.

"We ride our last march-let each crest be borne high! We raise our last cheer-let it startle the sky

And the land with one brave farewell; For soon nevermore to our voice shall reply Rock, hollow, fringed river, or dell.

"Let our trump ring its loudest; in closest array, Hoof for hoof, let us ride: for the chief who to-day Reviews us, is Death the Victorious:

Let him look up to Fame, as we perish, and say, 'Enrol them the fall'n are the glorious!'

We spur to the gorge, from its channel of ire

Livid light bursts like surf, its spray leaps in fire;
As the spars of some vessel staunch,

Bold hearts crack and fall; we nor swerve nor retire,
But in the mid-tempest we launch.

"We cleave the smoke-billows, as wild waves the prow; The flash of our sabres gleams straight like the glow Which a ploughing keel doth break

From the grim seas around, with light on her bow,
And light in her surging wake.

"We dash full on their guns--through the flare and the roar Stood the gunners bare-armed; now they stand there no

more;

The war-throat waits dumb for the ball:

For those men pale and mazed to the chine we shore,
And their own cannons' smoke was their pall.

"That done, we're at bay; for the foe, with a yell
Piles his legions around us. Their bayonets swell
Line on line; we are planted in steel:
'Good carbine! trusty blade! Each shot is a knell,
Each sword-sweep a fate-they reel!'

"One by one fall our men, each girt with his slain, A death-star with belts! Charge! we break them!'~In

vain!

From the heights their batteries roar!

The fire-sluices burst; through that flood, in a rain
Of iron, we strike for the shore.

"Thunder answers to thunder, bolts darken the air, To breathe is to die; their funeral glare

The lit hills on our brave ones rolled:

What of that? They had entered the lists with Despair,
And the lot which they met they foretold.

"Comrade sinks heaped on comrade. A ghastly band
That fell tide, when it ebbs, shall leave on the strand:
Of the swimmers who stemmed it that day,
A spent, shattered remnant we struggle to land,
And wish we were even as they."

O Britain, my country! Thy heart be the tomb
Of those who for thee rode fearless to doom,—
The sure doom which they well foreknew;
Though mad was the summons, they saw in the gloom
DUTY beckon-and followed her through.

She told not of trophies,-of medal or star,
Or of Glory's sign-manual graved in a scar,
Or how England's coasts shall resound

When brothers at home greet their brothers from war
As they leap upon English ground.

She told not of streets lined with life up to heaven,
One vast heart with one cry till the welkin is riven-
"Oh, welcome, ye valiant and tried!"

She told not of soft arms that clasp the re-given;
She only said "Die!" and they died.

Let Devotion hencefoth Balaklava own,

No less than Thermopyla, meet for her throne;
And thou, Britain-thou mother bereft-

By thy grief for the sleepers who hear not thy moan
Count the worth of the sons thou hast left.

"ARE YOU A MASON?"

Rev. Mr. Magill, Rector of St. Paul's Church, Peru, Illinois being asked the above question by a lady, responded as follows:

I am of a band

Who will faithfully stand

In the bonds of affection and love;
I have knocked at the door,
Once wretched and poor,

And there for admission I strove.

By the help of a friend,
Who assistance did lend,

I succeeded an entrance to gain;
Was received in the West,
By command of the East,
But not without feeling some pain.

Here my conscience was taught
With a moral quite fraught
With sentiments holy and true;
Then onward I traveled,
To have it unraveled,
What Hiram intended to do.

Very soon to the East

I made known my request,

And "light" by command did attend;
When lo! I perceived,

In due form revealed,

A Master, and Brother, and Friend.

Thus far I have stated

And simply related

What happened when I was made free;
But I've "passed" since then,

And was "raised" up again
To a sublime and ancient degree.

Then onward I marched,
That I might be “arched,”
And find out the treasures long lost;
When behold! a bright flame,
From the midst of which came
A voice which my ears did accost.

Through the "veils" I then went,
And succeeded at length

The "Sanctum Sanctorum" to find;

By the "Signet " I gained,
And quickly obtained

Employment, which suited my mind.

In the depths I then wrought,
And most cheerfully sought
For treasures long hidden there;
And by labor and toil

I discovered rich spoil,

Which are kept by the craft with due care.

Having thus far arrived,

I further contrived

Among valiant Knights to appear;

And as Pilgrim and Knight

I stood ready to fight,

Nor Saracen foe did I fear.

For the widow distressed
There's a chord in my breast;
For the orphan and helpless I feel;
And my sword I could draw
To maintain the pure law
Which duty the Masons reveal.

Thus have I revealed

(Yet wisely concealed,)

What the "free and accepted" well know;
I am one of the band

Who will faithfully stand

As a brother, wherever I go.

ORATORY AND THE PRESS.-DANIEL DOUGHERTY.

The grand days of oratory are gone forever. It is not improbable that the teeming future may give birth to those whose resplendent genius will deservedly rank them among the immortals of the past. Certain it is that Oratory can

never be lost while Liberty survives.

Twin born with Freedom, then with her took breath,

That art whose dying will be Freedom's death.

But for all this, the glory, the pride, and the power of the orator have passed away. In the classical commonwealth