TUCK.

SOPH.
TUCK.

Fair Sophonisba, shall it be your fate
To grace the dookal halls of Billingsgate?
It shall.

Then that is settled. So, my lord,
I'll be the future guardian of your ward.
You, Mr. Hood, I'd recommend to try
A business of less doubtful honesty,

Or you may come, my justly famous friend,
To an untimely and unpleasant end.

67

You, madam (to dragon), may rely upon our bounty,
Paid semi-weekly, in some distant county.

And you, young man, (to A.) since I am not a priest,
You are not married, not the very least.

ALAN (sings): Oh, I am not married, oh, then, oh, then,
Oh, I am not married, oh then,

I've escaped from the snare,
So I herewith declare

I will never get married again!

All join hands and dance, singing in chorus:
Again, and again, and again, and again, etc.

DRAGON (captures Alan ajain, and sings):

So we are not married, well then, well then,
So we are not married, well then,

You cannot escape,

So I'll get things in shape,

And we'll do it all over again.

HOOD and MARQUIS (sing):

(Chorus.)

Oh, we are defrauded, well then, well then,

Oh, we are defrauded, well then,

We are both of us sold

And left out in the cold,

But we'll brace up and try it again.

TUCK and SOPHONISBA (sing):

AS TO MUSIC:

(Chorus)

Oh, we will get married, and then, and then,
Oh, we will get married, and then,

Why, if it should suit you,

Some time in the future

We'll come back and see you again. (Chorus.)

Curtain.

The opening chorus is to the air of "Robin Hood," an old English glee. Friar Tuck's fragment (page 56 is from an old English song, "A Friar of Orders Grey." The closing chorus of each scene is to a college air, of which the burden is, "Oh, when I was single, my money did jingle," etc. Or, by dropping the second "Oh, then" it can also be sung to a well-known air in "Patience." The performers can, however, adopt any suitable music which tonvenience suggests.

SAVED BY A HYMN.

On the deck of a home-bound steamer
The voyagers gathered one night,
Our fatherland had been spoken,

Its shores were just coming in sight. 'Twas the close of a Sunday at sea;

The waters were peaceful and still,— The "afterwards" of a wild storm,

Whose winds had gone down at His will. While hearts on God's mercy bethought, Mid silence and quiet repose,

In the hush of that hallowed hour
The voice of a singer arose ;

And the words he took for his song

Were those which had often been told: "Jesus, lover of my soul "-that

Sweet hymn which can never grow old.

As his notes died softly away,

One came with a soldier's firm tread. "Beg pardon, sir, were you engaged In service in war time?" he said. "Yes, yes," spoke the singer in haste,

"Old comrades, hey? Glad to meet you." When the other rejoined, "But 'twas

Gray I wore, when you wore the blue.

"And we were both on guard one night,—
Quite near each other, too, we stood,-
I watched you pace your lonely beat,
Behind the cover of the wood.

I raised my gun to take straight aim,
When these sweet words I heard you sing,

'Lord, cover my defenseless head

Beneath the shadow of Thy wing.'

"Your prayer was heard; I could not fire,
And no attack that night was made.

Again I hear those words, and know
You are the man that hymn once saved.”
The singer grasped the stranger's hand :
"I well recall that lonely beat-
Those hours so full of danger, when
I paced with weary, anxious feet.

"I thought of home, of friends and all
Those things in life we hold most dear,
And then of Him, who says He'll hide

Us 'neath His wings in time of fear;
And so I sang that hymn you heard "-
The singer could not speak the rest;
The blue and gray, mid tears of joy,
Were folded to each other's breast.

The steamer neared the spoken land,

But her broad deck was cleared of all
Save two who watched the harbor lights
Over the peaceful waters fall;

And both thanked God they sailed beneath
The same old flag to home's loved shore,
Where blue and gray had clasped their hands,
To be divided never more.

-New York Evangelist.

ARITHMETIC IN LIFE.-M. TRUESDELL COOPER.

Long and hard were the lessons studied, many years ago-And heavy the paths to the old school-house through deepening drifts of snow.

The "Fractions" that puzzled our aching heads at last we have come to know

Are only the bits of wealth or fame, just loaned to us here below.

In "Compound Numbers," the tables long-difficult weights and measures

Were hard to hold in our youthful grasp, as later hardearned treasures.

"Profit and Loss," what meaningless terms-how helpless brain and fingers.

The task it was to bring "answers" right still in the memory lingers.

We solve the difficult problems now, our tears and trials

hiding,

For in profit we oft find loss disguised-in loss true gain abiding.

And, after all, in this mystical life, blend softly joy and

sorrow

In true "Proportion "- -a perfect plan fulfilled on some to

morrow.

-Journal of Education.

A VETERAN.-ROBERT C. V. MEYERS.

Written expressly for this Collection.

I've put me on my old blue coat I wore at Gettysburg,
And I've took last quarter's pension, every cent,
And I'm goin' from the Home on a furlough, fur away,
To the place where I was born on my very fust birthday,
And I'm goin' to hunt up cronies that I knowed in them old
times

'Fore I j'ined the regiment.

I'm a-goin' to see Bill Jones that went to school with me.
Lor! how red his hair was through and through!
And I'm goin' to ast him questions 'bout them times when
him and me

Robbed Farmer Jackson's orchard and fit that bumbly bee
That shet up poor Bill's eye till I a'most split my sides-
And he licked me for it, too.

And I'm goin' past our house, jest pertendin', jest for fun,
That I don't see mother there a-makin' pies.

Lor! how she'll stare at me wi' the pie-plate in her hand!
And then I guess she'll scream, and run out where I stand,
And she'll hug me and she'll kiss me, a-cryin' all,the time,
'Count o' the su'prise.

Then I'll say, "Where's cousin Susy at?" careless like, you know,

And there'll be Sue a-waitin' by the door,

A-blushin' rosy red, and a-tremblin' too, I guess;

And then I'll grab her up, and she'll give me that there Yes

She wouldn't give the time I ast her to, you know,

That time before the war.

Then I'll tell 'em 'bout the fights, and if they don't get skeered

I'll show 'em where the minie hit my arm,

And I'll tell 'em how the boys called me "cullender" because So many balls went through me; and I'll tell 'em jokes,

and laws,

How we'll laugh out there that evenin' on that leetle backdoor porch

That looks acrost the farm!

And Bill Jones, he'll be there, with his red head, and he'll

hear

How the colonel shook my hand at Antietam ;

And I'll tell 'em I aint poor, for the pension that I draw
Is 'nough to keep me up-not charity, but by law,
And mother'll hold my hand, and may be Susy'll say,
"Three cheers for Uncle Sam !"

And then But I forgot; I guess I must a-drempt-
Why twenty-five years off, that was, and more.
Bill Jones--why he's went West with his sons, and Susy, she
Is with him, married him in eighteen sixty-three;
And mother--oh, she died; I never seen her, no,

Since the day I went to war.

Why pshaw! I've been a-dreamin' about the old home place
And-and-ahem! I'm gettin' old, I guess.

I haven't got no home but the Soldiers' Home, and so
Why should I think this mornin' that I guess I'd up and go
To the farm where I was born? Maybe it's because

I've got this restlessness.

For I'm restless for old times; they all come back to me Every time I get my pension-yes, before,

And I seem to want to go.

But it's nonsense, so I'll take

My old coat off, and set here with my pipe and try to rake My brains up jest a little, and try to put away

Them times before the war.

NO. 5 COLLECT STREET.-S. J. PARDESSUS.

About the year 1800, Centre Street in the city of New York was called the "Collect," owing to its rapid descent, and taking the drainage from Chamber and other adjoining streets down to the low grounds about Canal street. At the corner of Chamber and the Collect (next to the "old Manhattan reservoir," which was destroyed about the year) there stood an unpretentious brick house, occupied by a worthy landlord of foreign birth as a private first-class hotel. The inmates were mostly of French and Spanish origin, and this place was held in high estimation by the goodly citizens of that day.

Among the guests was one Mons. Rifflard who was halting there for a day or two on his way from Paris to *By permission of the Author.