A desperate man whom none may withstand, For look, there is something clenched in his hand, He waves it wildly to and fro, And hark! how the crowd are shouting below"Back!" And back the opposing barriers go. "A reprieve for the Cannongate murderer, ho In the Queen's name STOP! Another has confessed the crime." Whish-rush-whish-rush- The guard has caught the fluttering sheet, 'Tis a splendid race! a race against time, Look at those flitting ghosts, The white-armed finger-posts! If we're moving the eighth of an inch, I say, A mile a minute-for life or death- The quivering carriages rock and reel- For the Night-Mail-to the North? "CALLS." The Rev. Mr. Mulkittle having successfully organized a church fair, was a very happy man. It had been hinted that the congregation were a "little short" on raising the reverend gentleman's salary, hence the proceeds of the fair would more than supply the deficiency. The good man, after retiring from a profitable afterLoon's work, during which he had assured dyspeptics that potato salad would not hurt them, seated himself by the library fire, when the "youngest" entered. "Where have you been, pa?" "To the fair." "What fair?" "Our church fair." "Did they have it out to the fair grounds?" "No." "Where then?" "Down town in our church.” "Did they have horses and cows?" "Oh no! they didn't show anything." "Well, what did they do?" "Oh, they sold toys and something for people to eat." "Did they sell to the poor?" "They sold it to anybody who had money." "Oh papa, it was the feast of the passover, wasn't it?" Mr. Malkittle took up a newspaper and began to read. "Do you want me to be a preacher, pa?" Yes, if the Lord calls you." "Did the Lord call you?" "Yes." "What did he say ?" "Told me to go and preach the gospel to every living creature." "Didn't tell you to preach to niggers, did He?" "That'll do now." "You thought the Lord had called you again the other day, did you?" "I don't know what you are talking about," said the minister. "Don't you know the other day you told ma you had a call to go some place, and you would go if you could get two hundred dollars more. Wouldn't the Lord give you the two hundred dollars?" “Didn't I tell you to hush, sir?" said the minister, throwing down his paper and glaring at his son. "No, sir; you told me to behave myself." "Well, see that you do." "I wish you'd tell me-' 66 Tell you what?" "'Bout the call." "Well, a church in another town wanted me to come there and preach." Why didn't you go?" "Couldn't afford it. They didn't pay enough money." "Call wasn't loud enough, was it?" "Well, hardly," asserted Mr. Mulkittle, with a smile. It wasn't loud enough to be very interesting." 66 If it had been louder, would you went?" "I should have gone if they had offered me more money." "It wasn't the Lord that called you that time then, was it?" "I think not." 66 How much money did the Lord offer you?" Do you see that door?" No, sir; which door?" "That one." Well, go out and shut it." "I want to stay in here." "You cannot." "Why?" "Because you are too foolishly inquisitive." "What's foolish inquisitive?" "Then I couldn't talk, could I?" "It would be better for you if you couldn't talk so much.". "Here, I'll give you ten cents now, if you'll go and hush." "Call aint strong enough," said the boy, shaking his head. "Well, here's a quarter," said the preacher, smiling, "Call is strong enough; I'll go. THE OLD WIFE.-THERON BROWN. By the bed the old man, waiting, sat in vigil sad and tender, Where his aged wife lay dying; and the twilight shadows brown Slowly from the wall and window chased the sunset's golden splendor Going down. "Is it night?" she whispered, waking (for her spirit seemed to hover Lost between the next world's sunrise and the bedtime cares of this), And the old man, weak and tearful, trembling as he bent above her, Answered: "Yes." "Are the children in?" she asked him. Could he tell her? All the treasures Of their household lay in silence many years beneath the snow; But her heart was with them living, back among her toils and pleasures Long ago. And again she called at dew-fall, in the sweet old summer weather: "Where is little Charley, father? Frank and Robert-have they come?" "They are safe," the old man faltered, "all the children are together Safe at home." Then he murmured gentle soothings, but his grief grew strong and stronger, Till it choked and stilled him as he held and kissed her wrinkled hand, For her soul, far out of hearing, could his fondest words no longer Understand. Still the pale lips stammered questions, lullabies and broken verses, Nursery prattle-all the language of a mother's loving heeds, While the midnight round the mourner, left to sorrow's bitter mercies, Wrapped its weeds. There was stillness on the pillow-and the old man listened lonely Till they led him from the chamber, with a burden on his breast, For the wife of seventy years, his manhood's early love and only, Lay at rest. Fare-you-well," he sobbed, "my Sarah; you will meet the babes before me; 'Tis a little while, for neither can the parting long abide. And you'll come and call me soon, I know-and Heaven will restore me To your side." It was even so. The springtime in the steps of winter treading, Scarcely shed its orchard blossoms ere the old man closed his eyes, And they buried him by Sarah-and they had their "diamond wedding " In the skies. KEEP TO THE LINE.-ELLEN MURRAY. Written expressly for this Collection. Step by step onward, Step by step forward, Keep to the marching line, Comrades of mine! Not yet the conquest, Not till to-morrow, Foot by foot, knee by knee, Keep to the line. Well was the lesson learned in olden days, Oh, brave hearts, long since dust! within our veins, Still, sounding down the misty falls of time, Where the Crusaders watched the desert sun; Where cross met crescent, where Tell's bow was strung, Where fearless England all her church bells rung |