A TRAVELLER'S EVENING SONG.

FATHER, guide me! Day declines;
Hollow winds are in the pines;
Darkly waves each giant bough
O'er the sky's last crimson glow;
Hushed is now the convent's bell,
Which erewhile with breezy swell,
From the purple mountains bore
Greeting to the sunset shore.
Now the sailor's vesper hymn
Dies away.

Father! in the forest dim,
Be my stay!

In the low and shivering thrill
Of the leaves that late hung still;
In the dull and muffled tone
Of the sea-wave's distant moan;
In the deep tints of the sky
There are signs of tempests nigh.
Ominous, with sullen sound,
Falls the echoing dust around.
Father! through the storm and shade,
O'er the wild,

Oh! be thou the lone one's aid.
Save thy child!

Many a swift and sounding plume
Homeward through the boding gloom,
O'er my way hath flitted fast,
Since the farewell sunbeam passed,
From the chestnut's ruddy bark,
And the pools now low and dark,
Where the wakening night winds sigh
Through the long reeds mournfully.
Homeward, homeward all things haste
God of night!

Shield the homeless: midst the waste,
Be his light!

In his distant cradle nest,

Now my babe is laid to rest;

CALLING A BOY IN THE MORNING.

THE Connecticut editor who wrote the following, evidently knew what he was talking about : :

Calling a boy up in the morning can hardly be classed under the head of "pastimes," especially if the boy is fond of exercise the day before. And it is a little singular that the next hardest thing to getting a boy out of bed is getting him into it. There is rarely a mother who is a success at rousing a boy. All mothers know this; so do their boys. And yet the mother seems to go at it in the right way. She opens the stair-door and insinuatingly observes, Johnny." There is no response. Johnny." Still no response. Then there is a short, sharp, “John," followed a moment later by a long and emphatic "John Henry." A

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grunt from the upper regions signifies that an impression has been made; and the mother is encouraged to add, “You'd better be getting down here to your breakfast, young man, before I come up there, an' give you something you'll feel." This so startles the young man that he immediately goes to sleep again. And the operation has to be repeated several times. A father knows nothing about the trouble. He merely opens his mouth as a soda-bottle ejects its cork, and the "John Henry" that cleaves the air of that stairway goes into that boy like electricity, and pierces the deepest recesses of his nature. And he pops out of that bed and into his clothes, and down the stairs, with a promptness that is commendable. It is rarely a boy allows himself to disregard the paternal summons. About once a year is believed to be as often as is consistent with the rules of health. He saves his father a great many steps by his thoughtfulness.

COOKING AND COURTING.

DEAR Ned, no doubt you'll be surprised,
When you receive and read this letter.
I've railed against the marriage state;
But then, you see, I knew no better.
I've met a lovely girl out here.

Her manner is well — very winning:
We're soon to be well, Ned, my dear,
I'll tell you all from the beginning.

I went to ask her out to ride

Last Wednesday - it was perfect weather.
She said she couldn't possibly:

The servants had gone off together
(Hibernians always rush away,

At cousins' funerals to be looking);
Pies must be made, and she must stay,
She said, to do that branch of cooking.

"Oh, let me help you," then I cried :
"I'll be a cooker, too - how jolly!
She laughed, and answered, with a smile,
"All right! but you'll repent your folly;

For I shall be a tyrant, sir,

And good hard work you'll have to grapple; So sit down there, and don't you stir,

But take that knife, and pare that apple."

She rolled her sleeve above her arm,

That lovely arm so plump and rounded; Outside, the morning sun shone bright; Inside, the dough she deftly pounded. Her little fingers sprinkled flour,

And rolled the pie-crust up in masses: I passed the most delightful hour 'Mid butter, sugar, and molasses.

With deep reflection, her sweet eyes
Gazed on each pot and pan and kettle:
She sliced the apples, filled her pies,
And then the upper crust did settle.
Her rippling waves of golden hair

In one great coil were tightly twisted;
But locks would break it, here and there,
And curl about where'er they listed.

And then her sleeve came down, and I
Fastened it up - her hands were doughy;
Oh! it did take the longest time,

Her arm, Ned, was so fair and snowy.
She blushed, and trembled, and looked shy;
Somehow, that made me all the bolder;
Her arch lips looked so red that I –
Well-found her head upon my shoulder.

We're to be married, Ned, next month;
Come and attend the wedding revels.

I really think that bachelors

Are the most miserable devils!
You'd better go for some girl's hand;
And if you are uncertain whether
You dare to make a due demand,
Why, just try cooking pies together.

TOM TO NED.

A TRAGICAL TALE OF THE TROPICS.

JEAN JACQUE KNYFE was a jolly tar,
Aboard of the steamship "Golden Star,"
That belongs to the line of old what-d'ye-call,
And sails from New York to Aspinwall.

Kitty Bo Peep was a dusky maid,
Whose father was in the banana trade;
Oranges, too, were in his way;

And the Bo Peeps lived at Panama Bay.

One day Jean Jacque Knyfe left his ship,
And across the Isthmus he took a trip;
And in his wanderings who should he see
But Kitty, asleep, 'neath a mango-tree.

Under a mango-tree, fast asleep,

With her head on her arm, lay sweet Bo Peep.
She looked like an angel — minus wings
In her snow-white muslin and other things.

And Jean he took and shivered his eyes,
And swore an oath of tremendous size,
That any party might take his hat,
If he'd ever seen a sight like that.

Kitty Bo Peep started up in alarm,
And Jacque Knyfe offered to her his arm:
You'd thought he'd known her a year or two
If you'd only seen the kisses he threw.

'Twas love at first sight, I am sure, with he;
And ditto it was, I know, with she:
She promised to meet him and tell her love
That night, at nine, in the pine-apple grove.

And there, at that witching hour in June,

They whispered their love 'neath the round full moon: He held her fast in his manly arms,

And feasted his eyes on her dusky charms.