about it. Setting aside slang, which I abhor, my only hope is that, as the old fellow hasn't more than a pint of blood in him, he may dry up before long, and disappear.

HER LAST LOOK

DAGONET.

I heard him, Joe, I heard him-I heard the doctor say,
My sight was growing weaker, and failing day by day.
“She's going blind," he whispered; yes, darling, it is true;
These eyes will soon have taken their last long look at you.

The room is dull and misty, and as I try to gaze

There seems to fall between us a thick and cruel haze.
I'm going blind, my darling; ah! soon the day must be
When these poor eyes will open, and vainly try to see.
Oh, take my hand, my husband, to lead me to the light,
And let your dear face linger the last thing in my sight-
That so I may remember, when darkness covers all,

'Twas there I last saw, softly, God's blessed sunshine fall. Cheer up, my dear old sweetheart, and brush away your tears The look I see to-day, love, will linger through the years; For when the veil has fallen, to hide you evermore,

I want your smile to light me along the gloomy shore.

I yet can see you, darling,-some light there lingers still;
The sun is setting slowly behind the distant hill;
Odd fancies crowd about me now God has let me know
My eyes must close forever on all things here below.

Though twenty years have vanished, it seems but yestere'en
Since first you wooed and won me among the meadows green;
Here from our cottage window I once could see the spot

Where grew the yellow cowslip and blue forget-me-not.

But now a strange mist hovers, and though I strain my eyes,
Beyond my yearning glances the dear old meadow lies.

I want to see it, darling, the meadow by the stream,

Where first your loving whisper fulfilled my girlhood's dream,

So take my hand and guide me, and lead me to the air;-
I want to see the world, love, that God has made so fair.
I want to see the sunset, and look upon the sky,

And bid the sweet, green country a loving, last good-bye.
How swift the sun is setting! it's almost twilight now;
I hear, but cannot see, dear, the birds upon the bough.
Is this our little garden? I cannot pierce the gloom,

But I can smell the roses—they're coming into bloom.
Stoop down and pluck a rosebud -you know my fav'rite tree;
My husband's hand will give me the last one I shall see.
Ah, Joe! do you remember the dear old happy days→
Our love among the roses, in summer's golden blaze?

I take the rose you give me, it's petals damp with dew;
I scent it's fragrant odor, but scarce can see it's hue.
In memory of to-night, Joe, when dead, I'll keep it still;
The rose may fade and wither, our love, dear, never will.
Quick! quick! my footsteps falter; oh, take me in again;

I cannot bear the air, Joe; my poor eyes feel the strain. Home, home, and bring my children, and place them at my knee; And let me look upon them while yet I've time to see.

Then take them gently from me, and let us be alone;

My last fond look, dear husband, must be for you alone.

You've been my dear old sweetheart since we were lass and lad; I've laughed when you were merry, and wept when you were sad.

I want to see you wearing your old sweet smile to-night;
I want to take it with me to make my darkness light.
God bless you, Joe, for trying-yes, that's the dear old look!
I'll think of that sweet story when God has closed the book.
Joe, fetch me down the picture that hangs beside our bed;
Ah, love, do you remember the day that he lay dead?

Our first-born bonny baby-and how we sat and cried,

And thought our hearts were broken, when our sweet darling died?

I'd like to see the picture once more, dear, while I may,

Though in my heart it lingers as though 'twere yesterday.

Ah! many bairns came after, but none were like to him;
Come closer to me, darling, the light is growing dim.
Come closer-so, and hold me, and press your face to mine;

I'm in a land of shadows, where ne'er a light can shine.
But with your arm around me, what danger need I fear?
I'll never need my eyes, Joe, while your strong arm is near.

Now, be a brave old darling, and promise not to fret;

I saw your face the last, dear, and now I've no regret.

*

I saw your face the last, dear-God's hand has dealt the blow! My sight went out at sunset, a short half hour ago!

Now you must be iny eyesight, through all the sunless land, And down life's hill we'll wander, like lovers, hand in hand, Till God shall lift the curtain beyond these realms of pain; And there, where blind eyes open, I'll see your face again.

HENRY OF NAVARRE BEFORE PARIS.

From Harper's Magazine.

SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

Down upon the 'leaguered town

With forty thousand men he rode:

The fields were bare, the meadows brown,
The starving cattle faintly lowed.

But conquering hero, he rode down

As if to hawk and bells he rode

While fields were bare and meadows brown
And starving cattle faintly lowed.

And just without the 'leaguered town
They pitched their tents along the road,
Or in the fields and meadows brown,

NORA PERRY.

Where starving cattle faintly lowed.
Day after day they stormed the town;
Day after day he laughing rode
Across the fields and meadows brown,

Where starving cattle faintly lowed.

One day from out the 'leaguered town
There faltered forth along the road,
And by the fields and meadows brown,

Where starving cattle faintly lowed, A wretched throng. The 'leaguered town Had cast aside its useless load,

And by the fields and meadows brown,

Where starving cattle faintly lowed,

They faltered up, they faltered down,
Half dazed with fear, along the road.
Then, by the fields and meadows brown,

Where starving cattle faintly lowed,

The hero who had stormed the town
Day after day, and careless rode
Day after day by meadows brown,

Where starving cattle faintly lowed,
With swift, sharp strokes came riding down
Along the white and dusty road,
Unheeding still the meadows brown,

The starving cattle as they lowed.

His face was set beneath a frown;
His laughing eyes, that had bestowed
No glance upon the meadows brown,

Where starving cattle faintly lowed,
Now fierce, yet soft, looked shining down
Upon the groups that thronged the road,
Blind to the meadows bare and brown,
Deaf to the cattle as they lowed.

His great heart suddenly bore down
The conqueror's pride, and back he rode,
Past all the fields and meadows brown,

Where starving cattle faintly lowed.

He fed the people of the town—

These famished groups that thronged the road And through the fields and meadows brown He called the cattle as they lowed,

30 HOW MR. SPOOPENDYKE LOST HIS COLLAR-BUTTON.

And fed them all. Then from the town
He turned away, and lightly rode
Past all the fields and meadows brown,

With face that shone and eyes that glowed.

"Vive Dieu!" he cried, "I'll take no town

By famine's scourge: a fairer road
Must Henry of Navarre ride down

To find his triumphs well bestowed."

HOW MR. SPOOPENDYKE LOST HIS GOLD COLLAR BUTTON.

ΑΚΟΝ.

"My dear," said Mr. Spoopendyke, feeling up the chim“have you seen my gold collar button?"

ney,

"I saw it the day you bought it," answered Mrs. Spoopendyke, cheerily, "and I thought it very pretty. Why do you ask?"

"'Cause I've lost the measly thing," responded Mr. Spoopendyke, running the broom-handle up into the cornice and shaking it as if it were a carpet.

"You don't suppose it is up there, do you?" asked Mrs. Spoopendyke. "Where did you leave it?"

"Left it in my shirt. Where do you suppose I'd leave it-in the hash?" and Mr. Spoopendyke tossed over the things in his wife's writing desk and looked out of the window after it.

"Where did you leave your shirt?" asked Mrs. Spoopendyke.

"Where did I leave my shirt? Where do you suppose I left it? Where does a man generally leave his shirt, Mrs. Spoopendyke? Think I left it in the ferryboat? Got an idea I left it at prayer-meeting, haven't you? Well, I didn't. I left it off, Mrs. Spoopendyke, that's where I left it. I left it off. Hear me?" And Mr. Spoopendyke