eth." A water-spout had burst up among the moor-lands, and the river in its power was at hand. There it came, tumbling along into that long reach of cliffs, and in a moment filled it with one mass of waves. Huge, agitated clouds of foam rode on the surface of a blood-red torrent. An army must have been swept off by that flood. The soldiers perished in a moment; but high up in the cliffs, above the sweep of destruction, were the covenanters-men, women, and children, uttering prayers to God, unheard by themselves in that raging thunder. John Wilson. Heavy and solemn, A cloudy column. Through the green plain they marching come! For the wild grim dice of the iron game. "Halt !" And fettered they stand at the stark command, "God be with your children and wife!" Hark to the music-the drum and fife How they ring through the ranks, which they rouse to the strife! Thrilling they sound, with their glorious tone, Thrilling they go through the marrow and bone! Brothers, God grant, when this life is o'er, In the life to come that we meet once more! See the smoke, how the lightning is cleaving asunder! Hark! the guns, peal on peal, how they boom in their thunder From host to host with kindling sound, The shouted signal circles round; The iron death-dice fall! Nearer they close-foes upon foes- They kneel as one man from flank to flank, And the fire comes sharp from the foremost rank. Many a soldier to earth is sent, Many a gap by ball is rent; O'er the corpse before springs the hindest man, "What? Francis!"—"Give As the dying man murmurs, the thunders swell- Ho! comrades!-yon volley!-look sharp to the rear! Sleep soft! where death thickest descendeth in rain, Hark to the hoofs that galloping go! The adjutants flying— The horsemen press hard on the panting foe, Victory! Tremor has seized on the dastards all, And their leaders fall! Victory! Closed is the brunt of the glorious fight; And the day, like a conqueror, bursts on the night! The triumph already sweeps marching in song. Farewell, fallen brothers; though this life be o'er, There's another, in which we shall meet you once more! Translated from Schiller by Bulwer. Over the River. Over the river they beckon to me Loved ones who've crossed to the further side; But their voices are drowned in the rushing tide. And eyes, the reflection of heaven's own blue; And the pale mist hid him from mortal view. My brother stands waiting to welcome me! Over the river, the boatman pale Carried another-the household pet; She crossed on her bosom her dimpled hands, And all our sunshine grew strangely dark. We know she is safe on the further side, My childhood's idol is waiting for me. For none return from those quiet shores, And catch a gleam of the snowy sail,— And lol they have passed from our yearning heart; They cross the stream, and are gone for aye; We may not sunder the veil apart That hides from our vision the gates of day; And I sit and think, when the sunset's gold And list for the sound of the boatman's oar; The Wonderful "One-Hoss Shay." A LOGICAL STORY. Miss Priest. Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay, That was built in such a logical way It ran a hundred years to a day, And then, of a sudden, it- -Ah, but stay, I'll tell you what happened, without delay- Frightening people out of their wits- Seventeen hundred and fifty-five, It was on the terrible Earthquake-day Now, in building of chaises, I tell you what, But the Deacon swore-(as Deacons do, With an "I dew vum or an "I tell yeou")— He would build one shay to beat the town 'N' the keounty 'n' all the kentry raoun'; It should be so built that it couldn' break daown:"Fur," said the Deacon, "'t's mighty plain Thut the weakes place must stan' the strain; 'N' the way t' fix it, uz I maintain, Is only jest T' make that place uz strong uz the rest." So the Deacon inquired of the village folk |