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, "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, 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, "Far in front of our lines, a dot on the plain : "They still hold our guns, we must have them again,' "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 "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; Bold hearts crack and fall; we nor swerve nor retire, "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, "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, "That done, we're at bay; for the foe, with a yell "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 "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, "Comrade sinks heaped on comrade. A ghastly band O Britain, my country! Thy heart be the tomb She told not of trophies,-of medal or star, When brothers at home greet their brothers from war She told not of streets lined with life up to heaven, She told not of soft arms that clasp the re-given; Let Devotion hencefoth Balaklava own, No less than Thermopyla, meet for her throne; By thy grief for the sleepers who hear not thy moan "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; And there for admission I strove. By the help of a friend, I succeeded an entrance to gain; Here my conscience was taught Very soon to the East I made known my request, And "light" by command did attend; 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; And was "raised" up again Then onward I marched, Through the "veils" I then went, The "Sanctum Sanctorum" to find; By the "Signet " I gained, Employment, which suited my mind. In the depths I then wrought, 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 Thus have I revealed (Yet wisely concealed,) What the "free and accepted" well know; 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 |