"Who touches a hair of yon gray head,
Dies like a dog! March on!" he said.

All day long through Frederick street,
Sounded the tread of marching feet,
All day long that free flag tossed
Over the heads of the Rebel host;
Ever its torn folds rose and fell

On the loyal winds that loved it well;
And, through the hill-gaps, sunset light
Shone over it with a warm good-night.

Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er,

And the Rebel rides on his raids no more;
Honor to her! and let a tear

Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier.

Over Barbara Frietchie's grave,

Flag of Freedom and Union wave!
Peace and order and beauty draw
Round thy symbol of light and law;
And ever the stars above look down

On thy stars below at Frederick town.

Whittier.

Which?

The following tells its own story, and a beautiful one it is too-read. ing best and sounding sweetest, when the family circle have gathered around the evening lamp, perhaps :

"Which shall it be? which shall it be?"
I looked at John - John looked at me
(Dear, patient John, who loves me yet
As well as tho' my locks were jet).
And when I found that I must speak,
My voice seemed strangely low and weak;
"Tell me again what Robert said?"
And then I list'ning bent my head.
This is his letter:

"I will give

A house and land while you shall live,

If, in return, from out your seven,
One child to me for aye is given."

I looked at John's old garments worn,
I thought of all that John had borne
Of poverty, and work and care,

Which I, though willing, could not spare!
Of seven hungry mouths to feed,

Of seven little children's need,

And then of this.

"Come, John," said L

"We'll choose among them as they lie
Asleep; " so walking hand in hand,
Dear John and I surveyed our band.

First to the cradle lightly stepped,
Where Lilian, the baby, slept;
Her damp curls lay like gold alight,
A glory 'gainst the pillow white,
Softly her father stooped to lay
His rough hand down in loving way.
When dream or whisper made her stir,
And huskily he said, "Not her- not her."

We stooped beside the trundle-bed,
And one long ray of lamp-light shed
Athwart the boyish faces there

In sleep so pitiful and fair;

I saw on Jamie's rough, red cheek

A tear undried. Ere John could speak,
"He's but a baby, too," said I,

And kissed him as we hurried by.
Pale, patient Robby's angel face
Still in his sleep bore suffering's trace.
"No, for a thousand crowns, not him,"
He whispered, while our eyes were dim,
Poor Dick! sad Dick! our wayward son,
Turbulent, reckless, idle one—

Could he be spared? "Nay, He who gave

Bids us befriend him to the grave;
Only a mother's heart can be
Patient enough for such as he;

And so," said John, "I would not dare
To send him from her bedside prayer."
Then stole we softly up above,

And knelt by Mary, child of love,
"Perhaps for her 'twould better be,"
I said to John. Quite silently
He lifted up a curl that lay

Across her cheek in willful way.

And shook his head. "Nay, love, not thee,"
The while my heart beat audibly,

Only one more, our eldest lad,

I remember once riding from Buffalo to the Niagara Falls. I said to a gentleman, "What river is that, sir?"

"That," said he, "is Niagara river."

"Well, it is a beautiful stream," said I; "bright, and fair, and glassy. How far off are the rapids ?”

"Only a mile or two," was the reply.

"Is it possible that only a mile from us, we shall find the water in the turbulence which it must show near the Falls ?"

"You will find it so, sir.'

of Niagara I shall never forget.

And so I found it; and the first sight

Now, launch your bark on that Niagara river; it is bright, smooth, beautiful and glassy. There is a ripple at the bow; the silver wake you leave behind, adds to your enjoyment. Down the stream you glide, oars, sails, and helm in proper trim, and you set out on your pleasure excursion.

Suddenly, some one cries out from the bank, "Young men, ahoy!"

"What is it?"

"The rapids are below you!”

"Ha! ha! we have heard of the rapids; but we are not such fools as to get there. If we go too fast, then we shall up with the helm, and steer to the shore; we will set the mast in the socket, hoist the sail, and speed to the land. Then on, boys; don't be alarmed, there is no danger."

"Young men, ahoy there!"

"What is it?"

"The rapids are below you!”

"Ha! ha! we will laugh and quaff; all things delight us.

care we for the future!

day is the evil thereof.

No man ever saw it.

What

Sufficient for the

We will enjoy life while we may, will

catch pleasure as it flies. This is enjoyment; time enough to steer out of danger when we are sailing swiftly with the current."

"YOUNG MEN, AHOY!"

"What is it?"

"BEWARE! BEWARE! THE RAPIDS ARE BELOW YOU!"

"Now you see the water foaming all around. See how fast you pass that point! Up with the helm! Now turn! Pull hard! Quick! quick! quick! pull for your lives! pull till the blood starts from your nostrils, and the veins stand like whip-cords upon your brow! Set the mast in the socket! hoist the sail! Ah! ah! it is too late! Shrieking, howling, blaspheming; over they go."

Thousands go over the rapids of intemperance every year, through the power of habit, crying all the while, "When I find out that it is injuring me, I will give it up "

John B. Gough.

From Ivanhoe

Following with wonderful promptitude the directions of Ivanhoe, and availing herself of the protection of the large ancient shield, which she placed against the lower part of the window, Rebecca, with tolerable security to herself, could witness part of what was passing without the castle, and report to Ivanhoe the preparations which the assailants were making for the storm.

"The skirts of the wood seem lined with archers, although only a few are advanced from its dark shadow."

"Under what banner?" asked Ivanhoe.

"Under no ensign of war which I can observe," answered Rebecca.

"A singular novelty," muttered the knight, “to advance to storm such a castle without pennon or banner displayed! Seest thou who they be that act as leaders?"

"A knight, clad in sable armor, is the most conspicuous," said the Jewess; "he alone is armed from head to heel, and seems to assume the direction of all around him."

"What device does he bear on his shield?" replied Ivanhoe.

'Something resembling a bar of iron, and a padlock painted blue on the black shield."

"A fetterlock and shacklebolt azure," said Ivanhoe; "I know not who may bear the device, but well I ween it might now be mine own. Canst thou not see the motto?"

"Scarce the device itself, at this distance," replied Rebecca; "but when the sun glances fair upon his shield, it shows as I tell you." "Seem there no other leaders?" exclaimed the anxious inquirer. "None of mark and distinction that I can behold from this station," said Rebecca; "but, doubtless, the other side of the castle is also assailed. They appear even now preparing to advance."

Her description was here suddenly interrupted by the signal for assault, which was given by the blast of a shrill bugle, and at once answered by a flourish of the Norman trumpets from the battle

ments.

"And I must lie here like a bedridden monk,” exclaimed Ivanhoe, "while the game that gives me freedom or death is played out by the hand of others! Look from the window once again, kind