From our Sidneys, and our Hampdens And we cannot-and we dare not Out of all the shames of Egypt- DUGANNE. THE OLD MAN IN THE MODEL CHURCH. [The reciter should read this piece in an ordinary tone, the voice slightly tremulous. Those who are capable of impersonating an old man will find favorable opportunity here.] Well, wife, I've found the model church! I worshiped there to-day! It made me think of good old times before my hair was gray; The meetin' house was fixed up more than they were years ago, But then I felt, when I went in, it wasn't built for show. The sexton didn't seat me away back by the door; He knew that I was old and deaf, as well as old and poor; I wish you'd heard the singin'; it had the old-time ring; The preacher said, with trumpet voice: "Let all the people sing!" The tune was "Coronation," the music upward rolled, Till I thought I heard the angels striking all their harps of gold. My deafness seemed to melt away; my spirit caught the fire; I tell you, wife, it did me good to sing that hymn once more; I almost wanted to lay down this weather-beaten form, And anchor in that blessed port, forever, from the storm. The preachin'? Well, I can't just tell all that the preacher said; I know it wasn't written; I know it wasn't read; He hadn't time to read it, for the lightnin' of his eye Went flashin' 'long from pew to pew, nor passed a sinner by. The sermon wasn't flowery; 'twas simple gospel truth; How swift the golden moments fled within that holy place; How brightly beamed the light of heaven from every happy face; Again I longed for that sweet time when friend shall meet with friend, "When congregations ne'er break up, and Sabbath has no end." I hope to meet that minister-that congregation, too,- In that dear home beyond the stars that shine from heaven's blue; I doubt not I'll remember, beyond life's evenin' gray, The happy hour of worship, in that model church to-day. Dear wife, the fight will soon be fought, the victory soon be won, O'er the river we are nearin'; they are throngin' to the shore, JOHN H. YATES. FARE THEE WELL. [This poem was addressed by Lord Byron to his wife. It gives the reader a rare opportunity for variety of expression and full scope for the portrayal of deep love, intense sadness, infinite tenderness, and bitter sorrow.] Fare thee well! and if for ever, Still, for ever, fare thee well: 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. Would that breast were bared before thee Would that breast, by thee glanced over, Though the world for this commend thee- Though my many faults defaced me, Yet, oh yet, thyself deceive not; Still thine own its life retaineth, Still must mine, though bleeding, beat; And the undying thought which paineth Is-that we no more may meet. These are words of deeper sorrow And when thou wouldst solace gather, Though his care she must forego? When her little hand shall press thee, Think of him whose prayer shall bless thee Should her lineaments resemble Those thou never more mayst see, All my faults perchance thou knowest, Every feeling hath been shaken; Pride, which not a world could bow, Bows to thee-by thee forsaken, E'en my soul forsakes me now: But 'tis done-all words are idle- Fare thee well! thus disunited, Torn from every nearer tie, Sear'd in heart, and lone, and blighted, LORD BYRON. WHY THE COWS CAME LATE. Crimson sunset burning O'er the tree-fringed hills; Golden are the meadows, Ruby flash the rills; Quiet in the farmhouse, Home the farmer hies; Shading anxious eyes, While she lingers with her pail beside the barn-yard gate, Wondering why her Jennie and the cows come home so late! Jennie, brown-eyed maiden, Wandered down the lane, That was ere the daylight Mists o'er meadows creep. Still the mother shades her eyes beside the barnyard gate, Loving sounds are falling, Homeward now at last, Through the gate have passed. Jennie, sweetly blushing, Jamie grave and shy, Takes the pails from mother, Who stands silent by. Not one word is spoken, as the mother shuts the gate, ANONYMOUS, THE BATTLE OF FONTENOY. Fought May 11, 1745. By our camp fires rose a murmur, At the dawning of the day, |