While the heavy sand was falling on her mother's coffin-lid;

near by,

All the night a golden streamlet of the moonbeams gently flowed!

she bore,

And thought of him and yearned for him, whatever else she did.

So she wondered all the day

What could make her father stay, And she cried a little too,

As he told her not to do.

And the sun sunk slowly downward and went grand

ly out of sight,

And she had the kiss all ready on his lips to be bestowed;

But the shadows made one shadow, and the twilight

grew to night,

And she looked, and looked, and listened, down the dusty Concord road.

Then the night grew light and lighter, and the moon rose full and round,

In the little sad face peering, looking piteously and mild;

Still upon the walks of gravel there was heard no welcome sound,

And no father came there, eager for the kisses of his child.

Long and sadly did she wait,
Listening at the cottage-gate;
Then she felt a quick alarm,

Lest he might have come to harm.

With no bonnet but her tresses, no companion but her fears,

And no guide except the moonbeams that the pathway dimly showed,

With a little sob of sorrow, quick she threw away her tears,

And alone she bravely started down the dusty Concord road.

And for many a mile she struggled, full of weariness and pain,

Calling loudly for her father, that her voice he might not miss ;

Till at last, among a number of the wounded and the slain,

Was the white face of the soldier, waiting for his daughter's kiss.

lie

They found them in the morning on the dusty Concord road.

THE WONDERFUL

F

WILL M. CARLETON.

ONE-HOSS SHAY."

'AVE you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay, That was built in such a logical way

It ran a hundred years to a day,

And then, of a sudden, it-Ah, but stay,

I'll tell you what happened, without delay-
Scaring the parson into fits,

Frightening people out of their wits-
Have you ever heard of that, I say?

Seventeen hundred and fifty-five,
Georgius Secundus was then alive-
Snuffy old drone from the German hive.
That was the year when Lisbon town
Saw the earth open and gulp her down,
And Braddock's army was done so brown,
Left without a scalp to its crown.

It was on the terrible earthquake-day
That the deacon finished the one-hoss shay.

COMIN' THROUGH THE RYE.

And rags that smell of tobacco and gin,

IN a body meet a body

W

Comin' through the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body,
Need a body cry?
Every lassie has her laddie-

Ne'er a ane hae I;

Yet a' the lads they smile at me
When comin' through the rye.

Amang the train there is a swain

I dearly love mysel';

But whaur his hame, or what his name, I dinna care to tell.

Gin a body meet a body
Comin' frae the town,
Gin a body greet a body,

Need a body frown?
Every lassie has her laddie-

Ne'er a ane hae I;

Yet a' the lads they smile at me When comin' through the rye.

THE VAGABONDS.

E are two travelers, Roger and I.

Roger's my dog :-come here, you scamp! Jump for the gentlemen-mind your eye!

Over the table-look out for the lamp!The rogue is growing a little old;

Five years we've tramped through wind and weather, And slept out-doors when nights were cold,

And ate and drank—and starved together.
We've learned what comfort is, I tell you!
A bed on the floor, a bit of rosin,

A fire to thaw our thumbs (poor fellow !
The paw he holds up there's been frozen,)
Plenty of catgut for my fiddle,

(This out-door business is bad for strings,) Then a few nice buckwheats hot from the griddle, And Roger and I set up for kings!

No, thank ye, sir-I never drink;
Roger and I are exceedingly moral-
Aren't we, Roger?-see him wink!—

Well, something hot, then-we won't quarrel.
He's thirsty, too-see him nod his head?
What a pity, sir, that dogs can't talk!
He understands every word that's said-

And he knows good milk from water-and-chalk.

The truth is, sir, now I reflect,

I've been so sadly given to grog,

I wonder I've not lost the respect
(Here's to you, sir, !) even of my dog.

But he sticks by, through thick and thin;
And this old coat, with its empty pockets,

He'll follow while he has eyes in his sockets. There isn't another creature living

Would do it, and prove, through every disaster, So fond, so faithful, and so forgiving,

To such a miserable, thankless master!

No, sir!-see him wag his tail and grin!
By George! it makes my old eyes water!
That is, there's something in this gin

That chokes a fellow. But no matter!

We'll have some music, if you're willing,

And Roger (hem! what a plague a cough is, sir!) Shall march a little-Start, you villain!

Stand straight! 'Bout face! Salute your officer! Put up that paw! Dress! Take your rifle !

(Some dogs have arms, you see!) Now hold your Cap while the gentlemen give a trifle,

To aid a poor old patriot soldier!

March! Halt! Now show how the rebel shakes
When he stands up to hear his sentence.
Now tell us how many drams it takes
To honor a jolly new acquaintance.
Five yelps-that's five; he's mighty knowing!
The night's before us, fill the glasses !—
Quick, sir! I'm ill-my brain is going!
Some brandy!-thank you there!-it passes!
Why not reform? That's easily said;

But I've gone through such wretched treatment,
Sometimes forgetting the taste of bread,

And scarce remembering what meat meant,
That my poor stomach's past reform;
And there are times when, mad with thinking,
I'd sell out heaven for something warm

To prop a horrible inward sinking.

Is there a way to forget to think?

At your age, sir, home, fortune, friends,
A dear girl's love-but I took to drink ;-
The same old story; you know how it ends.
If you could have seen these classic features-
You needn't laugh, sir; they were not then
Such a burning libel on God's creatures;
I was one of your handsome men.

If you had seen her, so fair and young,

Whose head was happy on this breast! If you could have heard the songs I sung When the wine went round, you wouldn't have guessed

That ever I, sir, should be straying

From door to door, with fiddle and dog,

Ragged and penniless, and playing

To you to-night for a glass of grog!

She's married since-a parson's wife:
'Twas better for her that we should part-
Better the soberest, prosiest life

Than a blasted home and a broken heart.