If, when thou hear'st of thousands massacred,
Thou sayest,' I am a king, and fit it is

That these should perish for me;' if thy realm
Should, through the counsels of thy government,
Be filled with woe, and in thy streets be heard
The voice of mourning and the feeble cry
Of asking hunger; if at such a time
Thou dost behold thy plenty-covered board,
And shroud thee in thy robes of royalty,
And say that all is well-O gracious God!
Be merciful to such a monstrous man,
When the spirits of the murdered innocent
Cry at thy throne for justice!

"King of France!
Protect the lowly, feed the hungry ones,

And be the orphan's father! thus shalt thou
Become the representative of heaven,

And gratitude and love establish thus

Thy reign. Believe me, King, that hireling guards,
Though fleshed in slaughter, would be weak to save
A tyrant on the blood-cemented throne

That totters underneath him."

Thus the maid

Redeemed her country. Ever may the All-just
Give to the arms of freedom such success.

BEATING A CONDUCTOR.

A passenger going west from Detroit by rail, the other day, had a pass to Chicago. When the conductor took it up he asked several questions to satisfy himself that the pass had not been transferred, and the holder of the pasteboard didn't take it as good-naturedly as some men would. He didn't have much to say, but he was determined on revenge. As soon as the conductor left the car the man changed seats, removed his linen duster, took off his hat, and looked like a different person altogether. After the train left the next station the conductor came along with an eye out for new passengers, and presently reached out for the holder of the pass.

"I haven't got any ticket," was the surly answer.

"Then you must pay your fare."

"I won't do it."

"See here," said the conductor, as he began to wake up," you must either pay your fare or produce a ticket. If not, I'll drop you on the road."

"Drop and be hanged!"

The train was not stopped, but after a run of ten minutes it reached a station, and arrangements were made for bouncing the man. When all was completed he showed his pass.

66

Why didn't you tell me you had a pass?" roared the conductor.

"Why didn't you ask me?" shouted the traveler.

The train went on, and the man put on his duster, traded hats with a passenger, and again looked like some one else. He changed his seat to the front end of the car, and was seemingly sound asleep when the conductor again had occasion to pass through. He took two fares, and then held up his hand to the traveler. There was no response. He shook the sleeper gently, but the latter slept on. Then he shook him good and stout, and called "ticket" in his ear.

"How dare you shake me around in this manner?" shouted the man, as he awoke and stood up.

"Ticket, please."

"But I don't please! How dare you come to me every time the train leaves a station?"

The conductor looked down the aisle, thought he saw the man with a pass in his old seat, and said to the other: 'Come, sir, don't bother me. I want your ticket." "You can't have it."

"Then I'll put you off!"

He reached for the bell-rope, but seeing a general grin all around the car he stopped and looked more closely and recognized him as the one with the pass. He went out without a word, and when he returned, half an hour later, he suspected another trap. He looked carefully

over the car, going slowly along in search of new

faces, when a man with his coat off and under the influence of liquor called out:

"Shay, Captain, I hain't got any ticket!"

"Ah, you can't beat me again-knew you as soon as I entered the car!" chuckled the official, and he walked on with a broad grin on his face.

It was not until he saw the shirt-sleeved man get off at the next station that he knew he had been mistaken again, and had let him travel for nothing, while the man with the pass was in the smoking-car.-Detroit Free Press.

A-SOAK IN "WUM BARRELS."-DELIA A. HEYWOOD.
Written expressly for this Collection.

"Oh! Dottie and Rose, come over and play
With Robbie and me," called little Maud May."
I have a new dolly and Rob has a drum;
We've lots of new things-now hurry and come."
Then golden-haired Rose and dear dimpled Dot
Threw down their rag dollies and ran to the spot
Where Mandie and Robbie played under a tree.
"Oh! Rosie, oh! Dottie," cried Maudie, “Do see!
"My pretty new doll-she can shut her blue eyes!
And look! if I touch her just this way, she cries."
Dot's eyes opened wide, but sweet Rosie looked sad,
"I'm glad," she said softly, "yes, Maudie-weal glad
"You've dot such nice sings, only Dottie and I—
We never have any sing-papa don't buy
Us pitty new dwesses and wibbons to wear,
Nor shoes-don't you sink Dottie needs a new pair?
"My dwess is so wagged, I'm 'shamed to be seen."
Rob's dark eyes flashed fire. "I think it's real mean
That you and poor Dottie have nothing to wear—
I'll tell you, though, Rosie, I guess I know where

"Your dollies and dresses and pretty things are-
In Simpkins' old rum-barrels. I heard my papa
Say yours puts all of his earnings right there."
“In wum barrels, Wobbie? Our nice sings to wear?

"I'm 'fraid they will spoil so long there a-soak--
Come, Dottie, let's det them."""Twas only a joke,"
Cried Rob, as the children flew into the street.
A minute scarce passed ere their tiny bare feet

Had reached the saloon. "Oh! Wosie, I's 'fraid
Of dese awful men," in a whisper, Dot said.
But up to the bar, the two wended their way,
“Oh! pease, Misser Simpkins,” Rose faintly said, “may
"We have our new sings-you don't know how we
Do need zem; Oh, look, Misser Simpkins, dus see
What wagged old dwesses we've dot on to-day,
Pease do det our sings, zat's a-soak, wite away."

"Your things, and a-soak? What's got into the child?"
The rumseller said: "Why baby, you're wild!
Go home to your mamma, I've nothing for you."
"Oh! pease, pease open your wum-barrels, do!

'We need zem so much, all our pitty new cloes,
Our dresses and slippers," sobbed poor little Rose.
A dark frown contracted the man's bloated face,
"Go home, now," he shouted. "Get out of this place!"

His hand was upraised. "Hold, ruffian! don't dare
Strike her-strike my child-she is right, they are there
A-soak in your barrels,--their dresses and toys,
Their food, and all childhood's sweet innocent joys,"

And out from a corner, strode a man to the side
Of Rosie and Dottie. "Oh! papa," Dot cried,
"Do home wiv us now, Wosie 'n I we's afaid."
"Yes, darlings," he, tenderly kissing them, said.
"I'll go home with you now, and dears, never mind
Your nice things a-soak, for papa will find
Them soon and I hope, too, his manhood regain-
Mr. Simpkins, good-bye. I'll not see you again."

NOT UNDERSTOOD.-THOMAS BRACKEN. Not understood. We move along asunder, Our paths grow wider as the seasons creep Along the years; we marvel and we wonder Why life is life? And then we fall asleep, Not understood.

Not understood. We gather false impressions,
And hug them closer as the years go by,
Till virtues often seem to us transgressions;
And thus men rise and fall, and live and die,
Not understood.

Not understood. Poor souls with stunted vision
Oft measure giants by their narrow gauge;
The poisoned shafts of falsehood and derision
Are oft impelled 'gainst those who mould the age,
Not understood.

Not understood. The secret springs of action,
Which lie beneath the surface and the show,
Are disregarded: with self-satisfaction

We judge our neighbors, and they often go,
Not understood.

Not understood. How trifles often change us!
The thoughtless sentence or the fancied slight
Destroy long years of friendship and estrange us,
And on our souls there falls a freezing blight;
Not understood.

Not understood. How many breasts are aching
For lack of sympathy! Ah! day by day,
How many cheerless lonely hearts are breaking!
How many noble spirits pass away,

Not understood.

Oh, God! that men would see a little clearer;
Or judge less harshly where they cannot see!
Oh, God! that men would draw a little nearer
To one another! They'd be nearer Thee,
And understood.

-Canadian Craftsman.

THE APPROACH OF NIGHT.
WILLIAM H. POWELL.

The sun in gorgeous and transcendent splendor has slowly and majestically sunk beyond the borders of the western horizon, but as though yet reluctant to cease from showering his beneficent smiles upon the flowering earth, he flings a backward glance upon the alluring