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Young Gilbert rose from table with a stern determined look,
And, frowning, took an inexpensive hatchet from its hook;
And Annie watched his movements with an interested air-
For the morrow-for the morrow he was going to prepare!
He chipped it with a hammer and he chopped it with a bill,
He poured sulphuric acid on the edge of it, until
This terrible Avenger of the Majesty of Law
Was far less like a hatchet than a dissipated saw.

And Annie said, "O Gilbert, dear, I do not understand
Why ever you are injuring that hatchet in your hand?”
He said, "It is intended for to lacerate and flay
The heck of that unmitigated villain, Peter Gray !"

"Now Gilbert," Annie answered, "wicked headsman, just beware

I won't have Peter tortured with that horrible affair;
If you appear with that, you may depend you'll rue the day."
But Gilbert said, "Oh, shall I?" which was just his nasty way.
He saw a look of anger from her eyes distinctly dart,
For Annie was a woman, and had pity in her heart!
She wished him a good evening-lie answered with a glare;
She only said, "Remember, for your Annie will be there!"
The morrow Gilbert boldly on the scaffold took his stand,
With a vizor on his face and with a hatchet in his hand,
And all the people noticed that the engine of the law
Was far less like a hatchet than a dissipated saw.

The felon very coolly loosed his collar and his stock,
And placed his wicked head upon the handy little block.
The hatchet was uplifted for to settle Peter Gray,

When Gilbert plainly heard a woman's voice exclaiming, "Stay!"

'Twas Annie, gentle Annie, as you'll easily believe.

"O Gilbert, you must spare him, for I bring him a reprieve, It came from our Home Secretary many weeks ago, And passed through that post-office which I used to keep at Bow.

"I loved you, loved you madly, , and you know it, Gilbert Clay, And as I'd quite surrendered all idea of Peter Gray,

I quietly suppressed it, as you'll clearly understand,
For I thought it might be awkward if he came and claimed
my hand.

"In anger at my secret (which I could not tell before),
To lacerate poor Peter Gray vindictively you swore;
I told you if you used that blunted axe you'd rue the day,
And so you will, old fellow, for I'll marry Peter Gray!"

And so she did.

A HOUSE NOT MADE WITH HANDS.-EARL MARBLE.

When a man dies the people ask, "What property has he left behind him?" But the angels, as they bend over his grave, inquire, "What good deeds hast thou sent before thee?"-MOHAMMED.

"Abijah Dunn! Abijah Dunn!

Where art thou this bright summer morn?
Awake and greet the rising sun,

Whose rays both earth and sky adorn."
Beneath his porch, since toddling child,
I oft had lingered for awhile,

Charmed by his glance, as woman's mild,
And more than sweetest woman's smile.
"Abijah Dunn! Abijah Dunn!"

So shot a summons through the air
Long hours before my later one

To see the sun's bright rising glare.
"Abijah Dunn!" This summoned him
To greater glory than the sun's,-
When over the horizon's rim,

Far up the sky he glowing runs.
"Abijah Dunn!" The midnight bleak
Stood still a moment as the Voice
Came down the old man's soul to seek,
And bear to realms where all rejoice.
"Abijah Dunn!" The hovel dark

Brief moments surged with spirit light,
And then, forever, cares that cark

Were drowned in blisses that requite.

"Abijah Dunn! come higher up!

Thine earthly house meets not thy needs;
Dire want has filled thine earthly cup,

But Heaven's o'erflows with souls of deeds;
Thine earthly hut possessions built,

Of which, alas! but poor thy part:
Thy Heavenly house, with richest gilt
Adorned, is built of what thou art.

"Abijah, great Jehovah's son!

For such thy name's significance,
Thy Father, here, Abijah Dunn,
Hath kept thee an inheritance,
And taken from thy life below

A thought or act, as love did warm,
Its walls to deck; as thou didst grow,
Its shape enlarged to grander form.

"Abijah Dunn! Abijah Dunn!

That window toward morn's brightest skies,

The glass like diamonds in the sun,
Came when thou bid'st one hopeless rise
And turn his gaze to glory's realm;

And yon bright room, so sweet within,
Grew like Aladdin's when life's helm

Thou seized, and steered from shoals of sin.

"Abijah Dunn! dost thou recall

A smile that dried a poor child's tears? That smile, a picture on the wall,

Will sing of sunshine through long years. Rememberest thou a fallen one,

Long since returned to kindly dust, With whom thou shared, Abijah Dunn, When others sneered, thine only crust?

"From tears of thankfulness she shed

Grew trees whose fruits like pearls catch light, And, o'er the walks that thou wilt tread,

Dispel forever aught like night,

And throw their gleam to towers that grew

When aspiration with thee dwelt,

And windows catching heaven's blue

When eyes looked whence the suppliant knelt.

"Abijah Dunn! thy home is here,

'Not made with hands,' but builded, lo! Above earth's labors, year by year,

As thou didst toward fulfilment grow."

Ah! blest at last whose lives be true!
And sad those lost in earthly rust!
Those "builded better than they knew,"
And these find but decay and dust.

THE BEST THING IN THE WORLD.
MRS. BROWNING.

What's the best thing in the world?
June-rose, by May-dew impearled;
Sweet south-wind, that means no rain;

Truth, not cruel to a friend;

Pleasure, not in haste to end;

Beauty, not self-decked and curled

Till its pride is over-plain;

Light, that never makes you wink;

Memory, that gives no pain:
Love, when, so, you're loved again.
What's the best thing in the world?

-Something out of it, I think.

A CURIOUS LIFE POEM.

Mrs. H. A. Deming, of San Francisco, is said to have occupied a year in hunt ing up and fitting together the following thirty-eight lines from thirty-eight English poets. The names of the authors are given below:

1-Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour? 2--Life's a short summer, man a flower;

3-By turns we catch the vital breath, and die4-The cradle and the tomb, alas! so nigh.

5-To be is better far than not to be,

6-Though all man's life may seem a tragedy;

7--But light cares speak when mighty griefs are dumb,
8-The bottom is but shallow whence they come.
9-Your fate is but the common fate of all;

10-Unmingled joys, here, to no man befall.
11-Nature to each allots his proper sphere,
12-Fortune makes folly her peculiar care;
13-Custom does often reason overrule,
14-And throw a cruel sunshine on a fool.

15-Live well, how long or short, permit to heaven,
16-They who forgive most shall be most forgiven.
17--Sin may be clasped so close we cannot see its face-
18-Vile intercourse where virtue has not place;
19-Then keep each passion down, however dear;
20-Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear;
21-Her sensual snares, let faithless pleasure lay
22-With craft and skill, to ruin and betray;
23-Soar not too high to fall, but stoop to rise.
24--We masters grow of all that we despise.
25--0, then, renounce that impious self-esteem;
26--Riches have wings, and grandeur is a dream.
27--Think not ambition wise because 'tis brave,
28-The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
29-What is ambition? 'tis a glorious cheat,
30-Only destructive to the brave and great,
31--What's all the gaudy glitter of a crown?
32-The way to bliss lies not on beds of down.

33-How long we live, not years, but actions, tell;
34-That man lives twice who lives the first life well.
35-Make, then, while yet ye may, your God your friend,
36-Whom Christians worship, yet not comprehend.
37-The trust that's given, guard, and to yourself be just;
38-For, live we how we can, yet die we must.

1, Young; 2, Dr. Johnson; 3, Pope; 4, Prior; 5, Sewell; 6, Spenser; 7, Daniel: 8, Sir Walter Raleigh; 9, Longfellow; 10, Southwell; 11, Congreve; 12, Churchhill; 13, Rochester; 14, Armstrong; 15, Milton; 16, Baily: 17, Trench; 18, Somerville; 19, Thomson; 20, Byron; 21, Smollet; 22, Crabbe; 23, Massinger; 24, Cowley; 25, Beattie; 26, Cowper: 27, Sir Walter Davenant; 28, Grey; 29, Willis; 30, Addison; 31, Dryden; 32, Francis Quarles; 33, Watkins; 34, Herrick; 35, William Mason; 36, Hill; 37, Dana; 38, Shakspeare.

THE SQUIRE'S PLEDGE.

A few years since, when the subject of temperance was being freely discussed, the citizens of a little town in the western part of Massachusetts called a meeting to talk over the matter. There had never been a temperance society in the place, but after some little discussion it was voted to form one. They drew up a pledge of total abstinence, and agreed if any member of the society broke it, he should be turned out.

Before the pledge was accepted, Deacon D- arose and said he had one objection to it; he thought that Thanksgiving day ought to be free for the members to take something, as he could relish his dinner much better at this festival if he took a glass of wine.

Mr. S. thought that the pledge was not perfect. He didn't care anything about Thanksgiving, but his family always made a great account of Christmas, and he couldn't think of sitting down to dinner then without something to drink. He was willing to give it up on all other days, and, in fact, that was the only time when he cared anything about it.

Mr. B. next arose and said he agreed with the other speakers, except in the time. He didn't think much of Thanksgiving or Christmas, though he liked a little any time. There was one day, however, when he must have it, and that was the Fourth of July. He always calculated upon having a "reg'lar drunk" on that day, and he wouldn't sign the pledge if it prevented him celebrating lndependence.

Squire L., an old farmer, followed Mr. B. He was not in the habit of taking anything often, but he must have some when he washed his sheep. He would sign the pledge if it gave him the privilege of imbibing when he washed his sheep. Why, he considered it dangerous for him to keep his hands in cold water without something to keep him warm inside.

After some consideration, it was concluded that each member of the society should take his own occasion to drink -Deacon D. on Thanksgiving, Mr. S. on Christmas, etc. The pledge was signed by a large number, and the society adjourned in a flourishing condition, after voting that it should

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