The gamest, cheeriest little chap you'd ever want to see! And then they laugh, because I think the child resembles me. The little rogue! he goes for me like robbers for their prey; He'll turn my pockets inside out, when I get home to-day.

My little girl, I can't contrive how it should happen thus, That God could pick that sweet bouquet, and fling it down

to us.

My wife, she says that han'some face will some day make a stir;

And then I laugh, because she thinks the child resembles her. She'll meet me half way down the hill, and kiss me, anyway; And light my heart up with her smiles when I go home to-day.

If there's a heaven upon the earth, a fellow knows it when
He's been away from home a week, and then gets back again.
If there's a heaven above the earth, there often I'll be bound,
Some homesick fellow meets his folks, and hugs 'em, all
around.

But let my creed be right or wrong or be it as it may,
My heaven is just ahead of me, I'm goin' home to-day.
W. M. CARLETON.

THE BROKEN PITCHER.

As beautiful Kitty one morning was tripping,
With a pitcher of milk, from the fair of Coleraine,
When she saw me she stumbled, the pitcher it tumbled,
And all the sweet buttermilk watered the plain.

"Oh what shall I do now? - 'twas looking at you now!
Sure, sure, such a pitcher I'll ne'er meet again!
'Twas the pride of my dairy: O Barney M'Cleary!
You're sent as a plague to the girls of Coleraine."

I sat down beside her, and gently did chide her,
That such a misfortune should give her such pain.
A kiss then I gave her; and ere I did leave her,
She vowed for such pleasure she'd break it again.

'Twas hay-making season, - I can't tell the reason,
Misfortunes will never come single, 'tis plain;
For very soon after poor Kitty's disaster
The devil a pitcher was whole in Coleraine.

ANONYMOUS.

A BABY'S SOLILOQUY.

I AM here. And, if this is what they call the world, I don't think much of it. It's a very flannelly world, and smells of paregoric awfully. It's a dreadful light world, too, and makes me blink, I tell you. And I don't know what to do with my hands: I think I'll put my fists in my eyes. No, I won't. I'll scratch at the corner of my blanket and chew it up, and then I'll holler; whatever happens, I'll holler; and the more paregoric they give me the louder I'll yell. That old nurse puts the spoon in the corner of my mouth in a very uneasy way, and keeps tasting my milk herself all the while. She spilled snuff in it last night, and, when I hollered, she trotted me. That comes of being a two days' old baby. Never mind: when I'm a man I'll pay her back good. There's a pin sticking in me now; and if I say a word about it, I'll be trotted or fed, and I would rather have catnip-tea. I'll tell you who I am. I found out to-day. I heard folks say, Hush, don't wake up Emeline's baby; and I suppose that pretty, white-faced woman over on the pillow is Emeline. No, I was mistaken; for a chap was in here just now, and wanted to see Bob's baby, and looked at me, and said I was a "funny little toad, and looked just like Bob." He smelt of cigars, and I'm not used to them. I wonder who else I belong to. Yes, there's another one, that's "Gamma." Emeline told me so; and she took me up, and held me against her soft cheek, and said, "I was Gamma's baby, so I was." I declare I do not know who I do belong to; but I'll holler, and maybe I'll find out. There comes snuffy with catnip-tea. The idea of giving babies catnip-tea when they are crying for information! I'm going to sleep. I wonder if I don't look pretty red in the face. I wonder why my hands won't go where I want them to.

፡፡

THE DOUBLE SACRIFICE.

"AND so thou say'st, my brother, to-morrow the end shall be, And I must perish amid the flames of the awful auto-da-fé!

"Thus let it be; for 'tis well to die, that the Word of the Lord may live :

O blessed Jesu! be near to the last, that I, like thee, may forgive."

On the damp dungeon-floor she knelt, and prayed in a tremulous voice

For strength to endure the fiery trial, and faith to retain her choice;

While the cowlèd priest stood mute, and gazed through the strong bars, yellow with rust,

And trembled, as in her pallid face he read an unfaltering trust.

At last he whispered, "O sister mine! recant ere it be too late.

In the youthful bloom of a beautiful life, why choose ye so cruel a fate?

"Renounce thine heresies even now, and the condemnation dire

Of the Inquisition shall be revoked, the torturing death by fire!

"O sister beloved! remember well, thou art last of our kin and race:

The name of our father is dear to the land; shall it fade in this cloud of disgrace?

"Great Galileo at Rome hath knelt, and abjured his errors vain:

Why do ye not even as he hath done, while the way of escape is plain ? "

So pleaded the priest, though he knew for nought, as she rose in the dismal gloom,

Possessed of the hope and the peace not of earth, fixed far beyond terror of doom.

More beautiful then, in her strength of soul, she seemed than whenever, of old,

She had graced the palace or regal court, radiant with jewels and gold.

No lady of all the wide kingdom of Spain, from the Pyrenees to the sea,

Might boast of a lineage prouder than hers, or a name from reproach more free.

And he, the priest, though a soldier bred, yet forced from the glory and strife

For the solemn peace and the sacred vows of the stern monastic life.

And she answered him, "I will never renounce the priceless joys of my faith,

But brave the impotent curse of the Church, and choose the heretic's death!

"Thou servest the Church; but I serve Him whose temple is built above,

And will die as the martyred saints of old, for the sake of the truth I love."

The hour had come; and they led her forth, in the yellow robe arrayed;

And she stood among the group of the doomed, still fearless and undismayed.

And she saw not the eager multitude, nor the king enthroned on high,

Nor the stern Inquisitors, robed in black, who had judged her worthy to die.

They bound her fast to the fatal stake, and piled the fagots around,

Then paused till the solemn chant had ceased, and the signal of doom should sound.

Then the flames burst forth, and the smoke rolled high, and blinded her lifted eyes;

And she murmured in agony, 66 almost gained the prize!"

Courage, O soul! thou hast

And he who had stood at the dungeon-door, and strove to

save her in vain,

When he saw her thus in the grasp of death, swift madness seized on his brain.

With the strong resolve of a frenzied hope, he sprang in the midst of the fire,

Which rose and leaped like a wrathful fiend, hissing with baleful ire.

Too late, alas! the vengeful flame withered the outstretched hand,

And the two freed souls together passed into the spirit land! ARTHUR WM. AUSTIN,

SUNDAY MORNING.

THOUGHTS DURING SERVICE.

Too early, of course! How provoking!
I told ma just how it would be.
I might as well have on a wrapper,
For there's not a soul here yet to see.
There! Sue Delaplaine's pew is empty,—
I declare if it isn't too bad!

I know my suit cost more than hers did,

And I wanted to see her look mad.

I do think that sexton's too stupid,

He's put some one else in our pew;

And the girl's dress just kills mine completely.
Now what am I going to do?

The psalter, and Sue isn't here yet!
I don't care, I think it's a sin

For people to get late to service,

Just to make a great show coming in.
Perhaps she is sick, and can't get here:
She said she'd a headache last night.
How mad she'll be after all her fussing!
I declare it would serve her just right.