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CONTENTS.

PAGE.

Owen Meredith "

95

The Way to Heaven.

........J. G. Holland....

96

The Inquiry...

...... Charles Mackay.

97

Discipline ..

98

Dot Lambs vot Mary Haf Got..

....101

The Knight and the Lady..

......Barham...

.....102

The Nantucket Skipper.

..........J. T. Fields...

Dot Baby off Mine..

Chas. F. Adams.........108

The Leadsman's Song...

.....109

.....107

PAGE.

Where Man Should Die...

....110

The Circus Clown....

Nathan D. Urnes........111

Carmen..

Address to Little Boys and Girls..

John Quill"

Sneezing..

The Message to the Iron Foundry..

..James C. Mangan.......118

In School Days...

.J. G. Whittier.

.123

Kate's Mistake.

.124

An Irish Letter.

..125

A Doubting Heart.

Adelaide Annie Proctor..126

Interrupted Table-Talk..

Roll Call...

.N. G. Shepherd. ..129

The Death-Bed.

Thomas Hood... ..130

Miss Moonshine.

. 131

Marco Bozzaris..

Fitz-Greene Halleck. .132

The Undiscovered Country

..134

Red Riding Hood.....

.J. G. Whittier.

..135

Over the River.....

..136

The Old Grave...

...137

When the Lamp is Shattered

.Percy Bysshe Shelley.....138

Look Aloft..

.J. Lawrence......

The Three Sons of Budrys..

....140

Lochinrar..

... Sir Walter Scott.. ...141

Death's Ramble....

. Thomas Hood......

...142

The Minister and the Elfin.

Robert Buchanan........144

The Little Grave. ...

The Universal Prayer..

Alexander Pope..........147

Friends Far Away...

......Horace Twiss..... .148

Brutus over the Body of Lucretiu. ......John Howard Payne ....149

Seven Flats......

.......... Eleanore Louise Hervey..151

The Old Hostler's Experience. .................Irwin Russell............152

Zuleika.....

...............Lord Byron...... .....153

Somebody's Darling..

.....154

The Last Time I Met Lady Ruth.

"Owen Meredith ".

.......155

Yearning...

..J. Brennan..............157

Der Drummer....

Chas. F. Adams.........158

Mark Twain's War Experiences.. .........." Mark Twain".........159

Family Worship.......

..........Robert Burns...

......163

Auction Extraordinary...

Lucretia Davidson.......164

Orator Puff.

Thomas Moore...........165

In Church-During the Litany.

Death of the Warrior King.

Charles Swain.

Godiva....

Tennyson....

..168

Yussouf...

James Russell Lowell....170

She Meant Business.

..171

Gaffer Gray...

Holcroft...

..173

The Dawn of Redemption...

...James G. Clark.

.174

The Coquette..

....John G. Saxe.... ..175

Found Dead.

.Albert Leighton....

The Futility Fame...

Henry Kirke White......177

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DIOK'S

RECITATIONS AND READINGS.

NUMBER SIX.

THE SPANISH. MOTHER.

SIR FRANCIS HASTINGS DOYLA. Supposed to be related by a veteran French officer. Yes! I have served that noble chief throughout his proud career, And heard the bullets whistle past in lands both far and nearAmidst Italian flowers, below the dark pines of the North, Where'er the Emperor willed to pour his clouds of battle forth. 'Twas then a splendid sight to see, though terrible, I ween, How his vast spirit filled and moved the wheels of the machine; Wide sounding leagues of sentient steel, and fires that lived to kill

, Were but the echo of his voice, the body of his will. But now my heart is darkened with shadows that rise and fall Between the sunlight and the ground to sadden and appall: The woeful things both seen and done we heeded little then, But they return, like ghosts, to shake the sleep of aged men. The German and the Englishman were each an open foe, And open hatred hurled us back from Russia's blinding snow; Intenser far, in blood-red light, like fires unquenched, remain The dreadful deeds wrung forth by war from the brooding soul of

Spain.

I saw a village in the hills, as silent as a dream,
Nought stirring but the summer sound of a merry mountain stream;
The evening star just smiled from heaven with its quiet silver eye,
And the chestnut woods were still and calm beneath the deepen-

ing sky.
But in that place, self-sacrificed, nor man nor beast we found,
Nor fig-tree on the sun-touched slope, nor corn upon the ground;
Each roofless hut was black with smoke, wrenched up each trail-

ing rinc, Each path was foul with mangled meat and floods of wasted wine. We had been marching, travel-worn, a long and burning way, And when such welcoming we met, after that toilsome day, The pulses in our maddened breasts were human hearts no more, But, like the spirit of a wolf, hot on the scent of gore. We lighted on one dying man, they slew him where he lay; His wife, close-clinging, from the corpse they tore and wrenched

away ; They thundered in her widowed ears, with frowns and curses grim, “Food, woman-food and wine, or else we tear thee limb from

limb." The woman, shaking off his blood, rose, raven-haired and tall, And our stern glances quailed before one sterner far than all. “Both food and wine,” she said, “I have; I meant them for the

dead, But ye are living still, and so let them be yours instead.” The food was brought, the wine was brought out of a secret place, But each one paused aghast, and looked into his neighbor's face; Her baughty step and settled brow, and chill, indifferent mien, Suited so strangely with the gloom and grimness of the scene. She glided here, she glided there, before our wondering eyes, Nor anger showed, nor shame, nor fear, nor sorrow, nor surprise ; At every step, from soul to soul a nameless horror ran, And made us pale and silent as that silent murdered man. She sat, and calmly soothed her child into a slumber sweet; Calmly the bright blood on the floor crawled red around our feet. On placid fruits and bread lay soft the shadows of the wine, And we like marble statues glared—a chill, unmoving line,

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