Grandma says our modern jumping,.
Hopping, rushing, whirling, bumping,
Would have shocked the gentle folk,
Long ago.

No-they moved with stately grace,
Everything in proper place,

Gliding slowly forward, then

Slowly curtsying back again,

Long ago.

Modern ways are quite alarming,
Grandma says; but boys were charming-
Girls and boys, I mean, of course—

Long ago.

Bravely modest, grandly shy

What if all of us should try

Just to feel like those who met
In the graceful minuet

Long ago.

With the minuet in fashion,

Who could fly into a passion?

All would wear the calm they wore

Long ago.

In time to come, if I perchance

Should tell my grandchild of our dance,

I should really like to say,

"We did, my dear, in some such way,

Long ago."

Mary Mapes Dodge.

IF I WERE YOU

If I were you, I often say

To those who seem to need advice, I'd always look before I leaped;

I'd always think it over twice.

And then I'd heave a troubled sigh-
For, after all, I'm only I.

I'd ne'er discuss, if I were you,
The failings of my fellow-men;
I'd think of all their virtues first,
And scan my own shortcomings then.
But though all this is good and true,
I am but I; I am not you.

If I were you and half so vain,

Amidst my folly I would pause To see how dull and light a fool

I was myself. I don't, because(And here I heave a pitying sigh) I am not you; I'm only I.

If I were you, no selfish care

Should chase my cheery smile away; I'd scatter round me love and hope: I'd do a kindness every day.

But here again I find it true
That I am I, and you are you.

I would not be so very quick
To take offence, if I were you;

I would respect myself, at least,
Whatever others say or do.
Alas! can no one tell me why
I am not you, instead of I?

In short, if I were only you

And could forget that I was I;

I think that little cherub wings

Would sprout upon me, by and by.

George H. Murphy.

A TRIBUTE TO CHARLES DICKENS

Her majesty the queen of Roumania ("Carmen Sylva") has written the following verses in commemoration of the establishment of the "Tiny Tim" Cot in the Royal Portsmouth Hospital of London:

I love him so for all the good

His soul was wont to see

In wretched, torn, misunderstood,
Unknown humanity.

In the darkness he found light; in pain

And error love divine.

He taught sad hearts to laugh again,
And hidden gold to shine.

He heard the Christmas carols ring,
He pitied moth and snake,

And had a song for ev'ry wing,

And balm for ev'ry ache!

Carmen Sylva.

LIBERTY OR DEATH!

The following speech, delivered by Patrick Henry March 23, 1775, in the Convention of Delegates of Virginia, sounded the death knell of British rule in the Colonies:

Mr. President: It is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren, till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation?

For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth-to know the worst, and to provide for it. I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past; and, judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the House.

Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm that is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and

have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and Parliament.

They tell us, sir, that we are weak-unable to cope with so formidable an adversary; but when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot?

Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us.

Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone; there is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle is not to the strong alone: it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave.

Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat, but in submission or slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable, and let it come! I repeat it, sir;

Let it come!