This truth will best be shown

By a familiar instance of our own.

Dick Strype

Was a dear friend and lover of the pipe;
He used to say, "One pipe of Kirkman's best
Gave life a zest."

To him 'twas meat, and drink, and physic,
To see the friendly vapor

Curl round his midnight taper,

And the black fume

Clothe all the room

In clouds as dark as science metaphysic.

So still he smoked and drank, and cracked his joke; And had he single tarried,

He might have smoked, and still grown old in smoke, But--Richard married.

His wife was one who carried

The cleanly virtues almost to a vice,

She was so nice;

And, thrice a week, above, below,

The house was scoured from top to toe,

And all the floors were rubbed so bright
You dared not walk upright,

For fear of sliding;

But that she took a pride in.

Of all things else, Rebecca Strype

Could least endure a pipe;

She railed upon the filthy herb, tobacco;

Protested that the noisome vapor

Had spoiled her best chintz curtains and the paper,

And cost her many a pound in stucco:

And then she quoted old King James, who saith
"Tobacco is the Devil's breath."

When wives will govern, husbands must obey;
For many a day

Dick mourned, and missed his favorite tobacco,
And cursed Rebecca.

At length the day approached his wife must die. Imagine now the doleful cry

Of female friends, and aunts, and cousins,

Who to the funeral came by dozens:

The undertakers, men and mutes,

Stood at the gate in sable suits,

With doleful looks,

Just like so many melancholy rooks.

Now cakes and wine are handed round:

Folks sigh and drink, and drink and sigh→
For grief makes people dry-

But Dick is missing, nowhere to be found,
Above, below, about.

They searched the house throughout,
Each hall and secret entry,

Quite from the garret to the pantry,

In every cupboard, corner, nook, and shelf,

And all concluded he had hanged himself.

At last they found him-Reader, guess you where?
'Twill make you stare:-

Perched on Rebecca's coffin, at his rest,
Smoking a pipe of Kirkman's best!

ALEXANDER TAMING BUCEPHALUS.

PARK BENJAMIN.

"The Young Prince astonished his father and the court by his dexterity in managing the horse, Bucephalus."-SUPPLEMENT TO QUINTÍUS CURTIUS.

"Bring forth the steed!" It was a level plain
Broad and unbroken as the mighty sea,
When in their prison caves the winds lie chained.
There Philip sat, pavilioned from the sun;
There, all around, thronged Macedonia's hosts,
Bannered and plumed and armed-a vast array.
There too among an undistinguished crowd,
Distinguished not himself by pomp, or dress,
Or any royal sign, save that he wore
A god-like aspect like Olympian Jove,
And perfect grace and dignity,-a youth,-
A simple youth scarce sixteen summers old,
With swift impatient step walked to and fro.

E'en from their monarch's throne, they turned to view-
Those countless congregations,-that young form;
And when he cried again, "Bring forth the steed!"
Like thunder rolled the multitudinous shout
Along the heavens,-" LIVE, ALEXANDER !"

Then Philip waved his sceptre,-silence fell
O'er all the plain.-"Twas but a moment's pause,
While every gleaming banner, helm, and spear
Sunk down like ocean billows, when the breeze
First sweeps along and bends their silvery crests
Ten thousand trumpets rung amid the hail
Of armies, as in victory,-"Live the King!"
And Philonicus, the Pharsalian, kneeled:
From famous Thessaly a horse he brought,
A matchless horse. Vigor and beauty strove
Like rival sculptors carving the same stone,
To win the mastery; and both prevailed.

His hoofs were shod with swiftness; where he ran
Glided the ground like water; in his eye
Flashed the strange fire of spirits still untamed,
As when the desert owned him for its lord.
Mars! what a noble creature did he seem!
Too noble for a subject to bestride,-
Worth gold in talents; chosen for a prince,
The most renowned and generous on earth.
"Obey my son, Pharsalian! bring the steed!"
The Monarch spoke. A signal to the grooms,
And on the plain they led Bucephalus.

"Mount, vassal, mount! Why pales thy cheek with fear?
Mount-ha! art slain? Another! mount again!"
'Twas all in vain.-No hand could curb a neck
Clothed with such might and grandeur, to the rein:
No thong or spur could make his fury yield.-
Now bounds he from the earth; and now he rears,
Now madly plunges, strives to rush away,
Like that strong bird-his fellow, king of air!

"Quick take him hence; cried Philip, he is wild!"
Stay, father, stay!-lose not this gallant steed,
For that base grooms cannot control his ire!
Give me the bridle!" Alexander threw
His light cloak from his shoulders, and drew nigh.
The brave steed was no courtier: prince and groom
Bore the same mien to him.-He started back,
But with firm grasp the youth retained and turned
His fierce eyes from his shadow to the sun,
Then with that hand, in after years which hurled
The bolts of war among embattled hosts:
Conquered all Greece, and over Persia, swayed
Imperial command,-which on Fame's Temple
Graved, Alexander, Victor of the World!—

With that same hand he smoothed the flowing mane,
Patted the glossy skin with soft caress,

Soothingly speaking in low voice the while.

Lightly he vaulted to his first great strife.

How like a Centaur looked the youth and steed!

Firmly the hero sat; his glowing cheek

Flushed with the rare excitement; his high brow
Pale with a stern resolve; his lip as smiling
And his glance as calm, as if, in dalliance,
Instead of danger, with a girl he played.
Untutored to obey, how raves the steed!
Champing the bit, and tossing the white foam,
And struggling to get free, that he might dart,
Swift as an arrow from the shivering bow—
The rein is loosened. "Now, Bucephalus !"
Away-away! he flies; away-away!

The multitude stood hushed in breathless awe,
And gazed into the distance.

Lo! a speck,-
A darksome speck on the horizon! "Tis—
"Tis he! Now it enlarges: now are seen
The horse and rider; now, with ordered pace,
The horse approaches, and the rider leaps
Down to the earth and bends his rapid pace
Unto the King's pavilion. The wild steed
Unled, uncalled, is following his subduer.
Philip wept tears of joy; "My son, go seek
A larger empire; for so vast a soul,
Too small is Macedonia!"

THE THREE HORSEMEN.-[Trans. from the German.]

Three horsemen halted the inn before,
Three horsemen entered the oaken door,
And loudly called for the welcome cheer

That was wont to greet the traveler here.

Good woman," they cried, as the hostess came, A buxom, rosy, portly old dame,

"Good woman, how's your wine and beer! And how's your little daughter dear?"

"My house is ever supplied with cheer, But my daughter lieth upon her bier.""

A shadow over the horsemen fell;

Each wrapped in thoughts he could never tell;
And silently one by one they crept

To the darkened room where the maiden slept.
The golden hair was rippling low
Over a forehead pure as snow,

And the little hands so closely pressed
Clasping a cross to the pulseless breast.

"I loved thee ere the death-chill lay

On thee, sweet child," and one turned away;

"I would have loved thee," the second said,

"Hadst thou learned to love me, and lived to wed."

I loved thee always, I love thee now,"
The third one cried as he kissed her brow;
66 'In the heavens to come our souls shall wed,
I have loved thee living, I love thee dead."

Then silently out from the oaken door,
Three horsemen went to return no more.

THE DIAMOND WEDDING.

Come sit close by my side, my darling,
Sit up very close to-night:

Let me clasp your tremulous fingers
In mine, as tremulous quite.
Lay your silvery head on my bosom,
As you did when 'twas shining gold:
Somehow I know no difference,

Though they say we are very old.

'Tis seventy-five years to-night, wife,
Since we knelt at the altar low,
And the fair young minister of God
(He died long years ago,)

Pronounced us one, that Christmas eve-
How short they've seemed to me,
The years and yet I'm ninety-seven,
And you are ninety-three.

That night I placed on your finger
A band of purest gold;

And to-night I see it shining

On the withered hand I hold.
How it lightens up the memories
That o'er my vision come!
First of all is the merry children
That once made glad our home.

There was Benny, our darling Benny,
Our first-born pledge of bliss,

As beautiful a boy as ever

Felt a mother's loving kiss.

"Twas hard--as we watched him fading

Like a floweret day by day

To feel that He who had lent him
Was calling him away.

My heart it grew very bitter

As I bowed beneath the stroke;

And yours, though you said so little,

I knew was almost broke.

We made him a grave 'neath the daisies (There are five now, instead of one),

And we've learned, when our Father chastens,

To say, "Thy will be done."

Then came Lillie and Allie-twin cherubs,

Just spared from the courts of heaven-

To comfort our hearts for a moment:

God took as soon as he'd given.