"But he don't got no peesiness being dot vay," replied Hoffenstein. "A man vat vas poor, Herman, don't can blame no von but himself. Vy don't he get velty, like oder beople? If a man vas sadisvied mid being poor he don't can be vert anyding, you know. Ven I vas beddling I vent to a velty merchant to get some goods on gredit. He don't let me haf dem, und I dold him dat I vas honest if I vas a poor man. Vat you dink, Herman, he says: 'My frent, the vorlt vas so full of beople in your fix dat dere legs vas sdicking de vindows

out.

"Dot experience, Herman, learned me dot a poor man don't haf got invluence enough in dis vorld to make de dogs bark at him, und I vent to work. Dree years after dot I haf a dry-goods sdore, und vas de bresident of a bolitical association. My gr-r-acious, Herman, never vant to be a poor man. De only ding dot a poor man can get vas religion, und he vouldn't get dot if it cost anyding. Recolleck dot berseverance in peesiness vill make you velty, und dot if you vail in de righd vay dere vas money in it. Ven I vas keeping a redail sdore in de goundry, peesiness got dull und I vent to Simon Krausman, my vife's uncle, und I says: 'Simon, I dink I vill vail, dere vas no money in de peesiness any longer.' 'Reuben,' he says, 'de boys vas baying as high as dwenty cents dis year, und I dink you petter vait.' I dook his advice, Herman, und nexd year, ven dey vas only baying den cents, I vailed und made ofer four tousand dollars. Shust dink uf it. Now, dere vas Solomon Oppenheimer, who put a leedle sdore up avay out in Arkansas, und de goundry for fifteen miles around vas so poor dat all de fleas vent avay. Vell, he put his sdore dere, und for seex years he failed in peesiness, und now Solomon owns a gouple uf brick sdores in Houston, Texas. He made all uf dot by his berseverance.

"Dink uf it. Herman, und vile you dink of it, don't let de shoemaker ve vas dalking about get avay midout baying vat he owes."

HOW WE PLAYED "KING WILLIAM."*
JEANNIE PENDLETON EWING.

It seems to me but yesterday

That I was young and pretty, dears,
And, in our little country town

Frolicked away my girlhood's years.
No thought of "annex "-" woman's rights,"
Troubled the scholar, then, or dunce,
But boys and girls together learned-
Rivals and sweethearts both at once!

Our parties, too, were fine affairs-
Don't shrug your shoulders in disdain!
Such happy, homely times as those
I never hope to see again!

Our dances didn't end at twelve,

But lasted through the livelong night;
Our "teas were not these modern things
Of crowded rooms and glaring light

And "How d'ye-do?" and then "Good-bye!"
With scarcely time to eat or drink;

Parties were parties then, my dears;
You will admit as much, I think!

Those were the days of "kissing games,"
As innocent as games may be,

When in a ring, with clasping hands

We circled, singing merrily:

"King William was King James's son!
In all the royal race he run.”

We didn't mind the verses' flaws
(Our education wasn't "high"),
We just enjoyed the merry romp,
And not a boy or girl was shy
Enough to linger sheepishly

When called to "choose his East" or "West;" "With all our hearts" we bent before

The lass or lad we "loved the best."

My party frock was muslin white;
A rosy ribbon bound my hair,
And, in the happy, careless crowd,

At least one person thought me fair.

Written expressly for this Collection.j

My dears, you've no such gallants now!
Six feet he stood when not full grown,
And, while he sang of "William's" charms,
I thought they didn't match his own!

"Upon his breast he wore a star
To show that he was King of War."

A king of war he proved indeed,
For, ere his boyish kiss was dry
Upon my cheek, he marched away
With soldier-courage in his eye;
Straight as an arrow, blithe and young,
I lost him in the distance far.
My dears, before the Great White Throne,
Upon his brow he wears a star!

But there! I mustn't make you sad;
Tears are for poor old souls like me;
Young hearts should always be as glad
As mine and his were wont to be
When, as I knelt with blushing face,
My big boy-lover "kissed me sweet,"
And, clasping hands in innocence,
We "rose again upon our feet."

WON'T YOU FOLLOW ME.-SAMUEL LOVER

Lanty was in love, you see,

With lovely, lively Rosey Carey;

But her father can't agree

To give the girl to Lanty Leary.

"Up to fun, away we'll run,"

Says Rose," since father's so contrairy;

Won't you follow me? Won't you follow me. "Faith I will," says Lanty Leary.

Rosey's father died one day

(I heard 'twas not from drinking wather); House and lands and cash, they say,

He left by will to Rose, his darther. House and lands and cash to seize

Away she ran so light and airy:

"Won't you follow me? Won't you follow me." "Faith I will," says Lanty Leary.

Rose herself was taken bad,

The fever worse each day was growing.
"Lanty, dear," she said, "'tis sad,

To th' other world I'm surely going.
I know you can't survive my loss,
Nor long remain in Tipperary;

Won't you follow me? Won't you follow me?"
Faith I won't," says Lanty Leary.

ANDRE AND HALE.-CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. Andre's story is the one overmastering romance of the Revolution. American and English literature are full of eloquence and poetry in tribute to his memory and sympathy for his fate. After a lapse of a hundred years there is no abatement of absorbing interest. What had this young man done to merit immortality? The mission whose tragic issue lifted him out of the oblivion of other minor British officers, in its inception was free from peril or daring, and its object and purposes were utterly infamous. Had he succeeded by the desecration of the honorable uses of passes and flags of truce, his name would have been held in everlasting execration. In his failure, the infant republic escaped the dagger with which he was feeling for its heart, and the crime was drowned in tears for his untimely end.

His youth and beauty, his skill with pen and pencil, his effervescing spirits and magnetic disposition, the brightness of his life, the calm courage in the gloom of his death, his early love and disappointment, and the image of his lost Honora hid in his mouth when captured in Canada with the exclamation, "That saved, I care not for the loss of all the rest," and nestling in his bosom when he was slain, surrounded him with a halo of poetry and pity which have secured for him what he most sought and could never have won in battles and sieges, a fame and recognition which have outlived that of all the generals under whom he served.

Are kings only grateful, and do republics forget? Is

fame a travesty, and the judgment of mankind a farce? America had a parallel case in Captain Nathan Hale. Of the same age as Andre, he graduated at Yale College with high honors, enlisted in the patriot cause at the beginning of the contest, and secured the love and confidence of all about him. When none else would go on a most important and perilous mission, he volunteered, and was captured by the British. While Andre received every kindness, courtesy and attention, and was fed from Washington's table, Hale was thrust into a noisome dungeon in the sugar-house. While Andre was tried by a board of officers and had ample time and every facility for defence, Hale was summarily ordered to execution the next morning. While Andre's last wishes and bequests were sacredly followed, the infamous Cunningham tore from Hale his letters to his mother and sister, and asked him what he had to say.

"All I have to say," was Hale's reply, "is that I regret I have but one life to lose for my country." His death was concealed for months, because Cunningham said he did not want the rebels to know they had a man who could die so bravely. And yet, while Andre rests in that grandest of mausoleums, where the proudest of nations garners the remains and perpetuates the memories of its most eminent and honored, the name and deeds of Nathan Hale have passed into oblivion, and only a simple tomb in a village churchyard marks his resting-place.

The dying declarations of Andre and Hale express the animating spirit of their several armies, and teach why, with all their power, England could not conquer America. "I call upon you to witness that I die like a brave man," said Andre, and he spoke from British and Hessian surroundings, seeking only glory and pay. "I regret that I have only one life to lose for my country," said Hale; and with him and his comrades self was for gotten in that absorbing, passionate patriotism which pledges fortune, honor and life to the sacred cause.