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Of one who still her steps delayed when all the school were leaving. For near her stood the little boy her childish favor singled;

His cap pulled low upon a face where pride and shame were min

gled;

Pushing with restless feet the snow to right and left, he lingered; As restlessly her tiny hands the blue-checked apron fingered. He saw her lift her eyes; he felt the soft hand's light caressing, And heard the trembling of her voice, as if a fault confessing. "I'm sorry that I spelt the word; I hate to go above you, Because "-the brown eyes lower fell-" because, you see, I love you!"

Still memory to a gray-haired man that sweet child face is show

ing

Dear girl! the grasses on her grave have forty years been growing. He lives to learn, in life's hard school, how few who pass above

him

Lament their triumph and his loss. like her, because they love him

KATE'S MISTAKE.

Old Birch, who taught the village school,
Wedded a maid of homespun habit;

He was stubborn as a mule,

And she was playful as a rabbit.

Poor Kate had scarce become a wife

Before her husband sought to make her

The pink of country polished life,

And prim and formal as a Quaker.

One day the tutor went abroad,

And simple Katie sadly missed him;
When he returned, behind her lord

She slyly stole, and fondly kissed him.
The husband's anger rose, and red

And white his face alternate grew:

"Less freedom, ma'am !" Kate sighed and said
"Oh, dear! I didn't know 'twas you."

ANON.

AN IRISH LETTER.

Tullymucclescrag, Parrish of Ballyraggett, near
Ballysluggathey, County of Kilkenny,

Ireland, Jinuary the 1th.

MY DEAR NEPHEW: I haven't sent ye a letther since the last time I wrote to ye, bekase we have moved from our former place of livin' and I didn't know where a letther would find ye; but I now with pleasure take up me pin to inform ye of the death of yer own livin' uncle, Ned Fitzpatrick, who died very suddenly a few days ago afther a lingerin' illness of six weeks. The poor fellow was in violent convulsions, the whole time of his sickness, lyin' perfectly quiet, and intirely speechless-all the while talkin' incoherently, and cryin' for wather. I had no opportunity of informin' ye of his death sooner, except I wrote to ye by the last post, which same went off two days before he died; and then ye would have postage to pay. I'm at a loss to tell what his death was occasioned by, but I fear it was by his last sickness, for he was niver well ten days togither durin' the whole of his confinement; and I believe his death was brought about by his aitin' too much of rabbit stuffed with pais and gravy, or pais and gravy stuffed with rabbit; but be that as it may, when he brathed his last, the docther gave up all hope of his recovery. I needn't tell ye anything about his age, for ye well know that in June next he would have been just seventy-five years old lackin' ten months, and, had he lived till that time, would have been just six months dead. His property now devolves to his next of kin, which all died some time ago, so that I expect it will be divided be tween us; and ye know his property, which was very large, was sold to pay his debts, and the remainder he lost at a horse-race; but it was the opinion of iverybody at the time he would have won the race, if the baste he run aginst hadn't been too fast for him.

war.

I niver saw a man in all my life, and the docthers all said so, that observed directions or took medicine betther than he did. He said he would as leve dhrink bitter as sweet if it had only the same taste, and ipecakana as whisky punch, if it would only put him in the same humor for fightin'. But, poor sowl! he will niver ate or dhrink any more, and ye havn't a livin' relation in the world except meself and yer two cousins who were kilt in the last I cannot dwell on the mournful subject any longer, and shall sale me letther with black salin'-wax, and put in it yer uncle's coat-of-arms. So I beg ye not to brake the sale when ye open the letther, and don't open it until two or three days afther ye resave this, and by that time ye will be well prepared for the sorrowful tidings. Yer old sweetheart sinds her love unknownst to ye. When Jarry McGhee arrives in America, ax him for this letther, and if he don't brung it from amongst the rest, tell him it's the one that spakes about yer uncle's death, and saled in black.

I remain yer affectionate ould grandmother,

BRIDGET O'HOOLEGOIN.

P. S.-Don't write till ye resave this.

N. B. When yez come to this place, stop, and don't rade any more until my next.

A DOUBTING HEART.

Where are the swallows fled?

Frozen and dead,

ADELAIDE ANNIE PROCTOR.

Perchance upon some bleak and stormy shore.

O doubting heart!

Far over purple seas

They wait in sunny ease

The balmy southern breeze,

To bring them to the northern home once more.
Why must the flowers die?

Prisoned they lie

In the cold tomb, heedless of tears or rain.
O doubting heart!

They only sleep below

The soft white ermine snow,

While winter winds shall blow,

To breathe and smile upon you soon again.
The sun has hid its rays

These many days;

Will dreary hours never leave the earth?
O doubting heart!

The stormy clouds on high

[ Veil the same sunny sky,

That soon (for spring is nigh)

Shall wake the summer into golden mirth.

Fair hope is dead, and light

Is quenched in night.

What sound can break the silence of despair?

O doubting heart!

Thy sky is overcast,

Yet stars shall rise at last,

Brighter for darkness past,
And angels' silver voices stir the air.

INTERRUPTED TABLE TALK.

From the Burlington Free Press.

The other evening the Rev. Mr. Philacter sat down at the tea-table with a very thoughtful air, and attended to the wants of his brood in a very abstracted manner. Presently he looked up at his wife and said:

"The Apostle Paul—”

"Got an awful lump on the head 'safternoon," broke in the pastor's eldest son, "playing base ball.

Bat flew out

of the striker's hands when I was umpire, and cracked me right above the ear, an' dropped me. Hurt? Golly!" and the lad shook his head in dismal but expressive pantomime as he tenderly rubbed a lump that looked like a billiard ball with hair on it. The pastor gravely paused

for the interruption, and resumed:

"The Apostle Paul-"

"Saw Mrs. O'Gheminie down at Greenbaum's this afternoon," said his eldest daughter, addressing her mother. "She had the same old everlasting black silk, made over with a vest of tilleul green silk, coat-tail basque pattern, overskirt made with diagonal folds in front, edged with deep fringe; yellow straw hat, with black velvet facing inside the brim, and pale blue flowers. She's going to Chicago."

The good minister waited patiently, and then, in tones just a shade louder than before, said:

"The Apostle Paul—”

"Went in swimmin' last night with Henry and Ben, pop, and stepped on a clam shell," exclaimed his youngest son; "cut my feet so I can't wear my shoe; and, please, can't I stay home to-morrow ?"

The pastor informed his son that he might stay away from the river, and then resumed his topic. He said: "The Apostle Paul says-"

"My teacher is an awful liar," shouted the second son; "he says the world is as round as an orange, and it turns round all the time faster than a circus man can ride.

guess he hain't got much sense."

I

The mother lifted a warning finger towards the boy and said, "Sh!" and the father resumed :

"The Apostle Paul says-"

"Don't bite off twice as much as you can chew," broke out the eldest son, reproving the assault of his little brother on a piece of cake. The pastor's face showed just a trifle of annoyance as he said in very firm, decided tone:

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