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I would not have the horse I drive
So fast that folks must stop and stare;
An easy gait two, forty-five

Suits me; I do not care;

Perhaps, for just a single spurt,

Some seconds less would do no hurt.

Of pictures, I should like to own
Titians and Raphaels three or four,
I love so much their style and tone,
One Turner, and no more,
(A landscape, foreground golden dirt,
The sunshine painted with a squirt).

Busts, cameos, gems, such things as these,

Which others often show for pride,

I value for their power to please,

And selfish churls deride;

One Stradivarius, I confess,

Two meerschaums, I would fain possess.

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Wealth's wasteful tricks I will not learn,

Nor ape the glittering upstart fool; —

Shall not carved tables serve my turn,

But all must be of buhl?

Give grasping pomp its double share,
I ask but one recumbent chair.

Thus humble let me live and die,

Nor long for Midas' golden touch;
If Heaven more generous gifts deny,
I shall not miss them much,-
Too grateful for the blessing lent
Of simple tastes and mind content!

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

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HELPS TO STUDY

Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long..

From GOLDSMITH'S Edwin and Angelina.

Holmes treats this idea with playful humor.

1. Make a list of his " modest " wants in house, food, etc. 2. What honors would he like to have? 3. In Holmes's time there were no automobiles; but he wanted a fast horse to drive. Where do you find this? 4. What kind of books, pictures, etc., did he want? 5. To be Plenipo is to be minister plenipotentiary, or with full power at the court of St. James in London. 6. Cashmere, in India, is famous for its beautiful and costly shawls. 7. Titian, Raphael, and Turner were famous painters. 8. Stradivarius was a famous maker of violins. Holmes played the violin a little, but not very well.

For Study with the Glossary: Gubernator, morocco, vellum, cameo, meerschaum, buhl, recumbent, Midas.

A WISH

Mine be a cot beside the hill;

A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear;
A willowy brook that turns a mill,
With many a fall shall linger near.

The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch
Shall twitter from her clay-built nest;
Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch,
And share my meal, a welcome guest.

Around my ivied porch shall spring
Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew;
And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing
In russet gown and apron blue.

SAMUEL ROGERS.

That checked, mid-vein, the circling race
Of life-blood in the sharpened face,
The coming of the snow-storm told.
The wind blew east; we heard the roar
Of Ocean on his wintry shore,

And felt the strong pulse throbbing there
Beat with low rhythm our inland air.

Meanwhile we did our nightly chores,
Brought in the wood from out of doors,
Littered the stalls, and from the mows

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Raked down the herd's-grass for the cows;

Heard the horse whinnying for his corn;
And, sharply clashing horn on horn,
Impatient down the stanchion rows
The cattle shake their walnut bows;
While, peering from his early perch
Upon the scaffold's pole of birch,
The cock his crested helmet bent
And down his querulous challenge sent.
Unwarmed by any sunset light
The gray day darkened into night,
A night made hoary with the swarm
And whirl-dance of the blinding storm,
As zigzag wavering to and fro

Crossed and recrossed the wingéd snow;
And ere the early bedtime came

The white drift piled the window-frame,
And through the glass the clothes-line posts
Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts.

So all night long the storm roared on;
The morning broke without a sun;
In tiny spherule traced with lines
Of Nature's geometric signs,
In starry flake and pellicle

All day the hoary meteor fell;
And, when the second morning shone,
We looked upon a world unknown,
On nothing we could call our own.
Around the glistening wonder bent