Looking them in the face, and in the face of the gambler. Not one to save her,-not one of all the compassionate people! Not one to save her, of all the pitying angels in heaven! Not one bolt of God to strike him dead there before her! Wildly she waved him back, we waited in silence and horror. Over the swarthy face of the gambler a pallor of passion Passed, like a gleam of lightning over the west in the nighttime.

White, she stood, and mute, till he put forth his hand to secure her;

Then she turned and leaped,-in mid-air fluttered a moment,

Down there, whirling, fell, like a broken-winged bird from a tree-top,

Down on the cruel wheel, that caught her, and hurled her, and crushed her,

And in the foaming water plunged her, and hid her forever." Still with his back to us all the pilot stood, but we heard him Swallowing hard, as he pulled the bell-rope to stop her. Then, turning,

"This is the place where it happened," brokenly whispered the pilot.

Somehow, I never like to go by here alone in the night-time." Darkly the Mississippi flowed by the town that lay in the

starlight, Cheerful with lamps. the engines, And the great boat

exhausted.

Below we could hear them reversing

glided up to the shore like a giant

Heavily sighed her pipes. Broad over the swamps to the eastward

Shone the full moon, and turned our far-trembling wake

into silver.

All was serene and calm, but the odorous breath of the willows

Smote like the subtile breath of an infinite sorrow upon us.

SYMPATHY.-C. W. THOMSON.

Who that hath wept in secret, will not say
How many a pang a friend can soothe away;
Who that hath mourned o'er unimparted grief,
But in disclosure finds a sweet relief.

Yes, loved communion, it is thine to shed
Thy moonlight radiance round the sufferer's head.

TWO OF THEM.

In the farm-house porch the farmer sat
With his daughter, having a cozy chat;
She was his only child, and he

Thought her as fair as a girl could be.
A wee bit jealous, the old man grew,
If he fancied any might come to woo;
His one pet lamb and her loving care
He wished with nobody else to share.
"There should be two of you, child," said he,-
"There should be two to welcome me
When I come home from the field at night;
Two would make the old homestead bright.
There's neighbor Grey, with his children four
To be glad together. Had I one more,
A proud old father I'd be, my dear,
With two good children to greet me here.”
Down by the gate, 'neath the old elm tree
Donald waited alone; and she

For whom he waited his love-call heard,
And on either cheek the blushes stirred.

"Father," said she, and knelt her down,
And kissed the hand that was old and brown-
"Father, there may be two, if you will,

And I-your only daughter still.

"Two to welcome you home at night;

Two to make the old homestead bright;

I-and somebody else." "I see,"

Said the farmer; "and whom may 'somebody' be?"

Oh, the dimples in Bessie's cheek,

That played with the blushes at hide-and-seek!
Away from his gaze she turned her head;
"One of neighbor Grey's children," she said.

"I'm!" said the farmer; “make it plain;
Is it Susan, Alice, or Mary Jane?"
Another kiss on the agèd hand,
To help the farmer to understand.
"I'm!" said the farmer; "yes; I see;
It is two for yourself and one for me.'
But Bessie said, "There can be but one
For me and my heart till life is done."

THE BALD-HEADED MAN.

The other day a lady, accompanied by her son, a very small boy, boarded a train at Little Rock. The woman had a care-worn expression hanging over her face like a tattered veil, and many of the rapid questions asked by the boy were answered by unconscious sighs.

"Ma," said the boy, "that man's like a baby, ain't he?" pointing to a bald-headed man sitting just in front of them. "Hush!"

"Why must I hush ?"

After a few moments' silence: "Ma, what's the matter with that man's head ?"

"Hush, I tell you. He's bald."

"What's bald?"

"His head hasn't got any hair on it."

"Did it come off?"

"I guess so."

"Will mine come off?"

"Some time, maybe."

"Then I'll be bald, won't I?"

"Yes."

"Will you care?"

"Don't ask so many questions."

After another silence, the boy exclaimed: "Ma, look at that fly on that man's head."

"If you don't hush, I'll whip you when we get home." "Look! There's another fly. Look at 'em fight; look at 'em!"

Madam," said the man, putting aside a newspaper and looking around, "what's the matter with that young hyena?" The woman blushed, stammered out something, and attempted to smooth back the boy's hair.

"One fly, two flies, three flies," said the boy, innocently, following with his eyes a basket of oranges carried by a newsboy.

66

'Here, you young hedgehog," said the bald-headed max, "if you don't hush, I'll have the conductor put you offt > train."

The poor woman, not knowing what else to do, boxed the boy's ears, and then gave him an orange to keep him from crying.

"Ma, have I got red marks on my head?"

"I'll whip you again, if you don't hush."

'Mister," said the boy, after a short silence, " does it hurt to be bald-headed ?"

"Youngster," said the man, "if you'll keep quiet, I'll give you a quarter."

The boy promised, and the money was paid over.

The man took up his paper, and resumed his reading. "This is my bald-headed money," said the boy. 'When I get bald-headed, I'm goin' to give boys money. Mister, have all bald-headed men got money?"

The annoyed man threw down his paper, arose, and exclaimed: "Madam, hereafter when you travel, leave that young gorilla at home. Hitherto, I always thought that the old prophet was very cruel for calling the bears to kill the children for making sport of his head, but now I am forced to believe that he did a Christian act. If your boy had been in the crowd, he would have died first. If I can't find another seat on this train, I'll ride on the cow-catcher rather than remain here."

"The bald-headed man is gone," said the boy; and as the woman leaned back a tired sigh escaped from her lips. -Little Rock Gazette.

OLD-SCHOOL PUNISHMENT.

Old Master Brown brought his ferule down,
And his face looked angry and red.
"Go, seat you there, now, Anthony Blair,
Along with the girls,” he said.

Then Anthony Blair, with a mortified air,
With his head down on his breast,

Took his penitent seat by the maiden sweet
That he loved, of all, the best.

And Anthony Blair, seemed whimpering there,

But the rogue only made believe;

For he peeped at the girls with the beautiful curis,
And ogled them over his sleeve.

THE FACE AGAINST THE PANE.-T. B. ALDRICH,

Mabel, little Mabel,

With face against the pane,
Looks out across the night
And sees the Beacon Light
A-trembling in the rain.
She hears the sea-birds screech,
And the breakers on the beach

Making moan, making moan.
And the wind about the eaves
Of the cottage sobs and grieves;
And the willow-tree is blown
To and fro, to and fro,

Till it seems like some old crone
Standing out there all alone,
With her woe,
Wringing, as she stands,
Her gaunt and palsied hands!
While Mabel, timid Mabel,

With face against the pane,
Looks out across the night,
And sees the Beacon Light
A-trembling in the rain.

Set the table, maiden Mabel,
And make the cabin warm;
Your little fisher-love:

Is out there in the storm,
And your father-you are weeping!
O Mabel, timid Mabel,

Go, spread the supper-table,

And set the tea a-steeping.

Your lover's heart is brave,

His boat is staunch and tight;

And your father knows the perilous reef
That makes the water white.

-But Mabel, darling Mabel,
With face against the pane,
Looks out across the night

At the Beacon in the rain.

The heavens are veined with fire!

And the thunder, how it rolls!
In the lullings of the storm