And the thronging poor, and untaught mass,
Drew back to let the rich man pass.

The service began, the choral hymn

Arose and swelled through the long aisles dim;
Then the rich man knelt, and the words he said
Were "Give us this day our daily bread!"

TWO ABSENT-MINDED MEN.

Several passengers were sitting in the waiting-room of the railroad station one evening. Two of them were men who did not appear to be acquainted with any one, and who were sitting apart, each busily engaged with his own thoughts. Both of them happening to look up at the same time, they caught each other's glances. A look of mutual recognition immediately followed, and they rose and shook hands.

"How are you?" anxiously inquired No. 1.

"Pretty good. How are you?" said No. 2, in a tone of solicitude.

"Pretty good. Waiting for the train ?"

"Yes, Are you?"

"Yes."

Then they both sat down, and in a moment were again absorbed in their respective thoughts. In a moment they caught each other's glance again. A look of recognition followed. Both rose and grasped hands.

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"How are you?" inquired No. 1, with considerable anxiety. Pretty good. How are you?" asked No. 2, anxiously. Pretty good. Waiting for the train?"

Yes. Are you?"

"Yes."

This matter having been settled to the satisfaction of both, they sank back in their seats, and again fastened their gaze abstractedly on the floor between them. With that appreciation of every trivial circumstance peculiar to people waiting for a train, the companions of the two took especial notice of the first recognition. On the second performance, they stared with all-absorbing avidity at the performers, and exchanged glances among themselves, while two or three of them significantly tapped their foreheads and looked meaningly at the two acquaintances. This caused considerable uneasiness among the others, and one very nervous woman

got up and went out on the platform. The objects of this sentiment, oblivious to it, sat gazing intently at the floor. Finally one of them raised his eyes, and they rested on the other. He looked quite hard at him. Then the other raised his eyes, and the glances of both met. A look of recognition stole into the faces of the two men. Impulsively they rose to their feet, and grasped each other by the hand. “How are you?" asked No. 1, with deep interest.

"Pretty good. How are you?" inquired No. 2, with intense anxiety.

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'Pretty good. Waiting for the train ?"

"Yes. Are you?"

"Yes."

This last exhibition had such a marvelous effect on the other people that No. 1 was prompted to issue an extra to the regular edition in the shape of:

"Has the train come?"

As soon as they rose to shake hands for the third time, a woman with two children hastily transferred them to the outside platform. She was immediately followed by a heavy woman with a band-box, who had a sharp struggle at the door, as to precedence, with a short, slim, pale man carrying a valise; but owing to her preponderance of weight, got the victory. They were promptly followed by a weak-looking couple who had been industriously nursing each other's hands. The last in number was a large man with a pair of pompous side whiskers. He was at first disposed to maintain his ground, but weakened at the last moment and skipped out as lightly as the others, and made a compromise with his dignity by stationing himself at the window, where he could peer in upon the lunatics. Left alone, the two acquaintances sank back in their seats and fell to staring at the floor before them as abstractedly as before. Thus they remained until the train approached, when, both lifting their eyes, they impulsively rose to their feet, a movement which prompted the large man at the window to excitedly exclaim: 'They are at it again, by Jove!"

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It subsequently transpired that the two men were prominent residents down the road, and both of them noted for their absent-mindedness, which probably explains the singularity of their conduct.

PHAIDRIG CROHOORE.

Oh! Phaidrig Crohoore was the broth of a boy, and he stood six feet eight;

And his arm was as round as another man's thigh-'tis

Phaidrig was great :

And his hair was as black as the shadows of night,

And hung over the scars left by many a fight;

And his voice, like the thunder, was deep, strong, and loud,
And his eye like the lightnin' from under the cloud.
And all the girls liked him, for he could speak civil
And sweet when he chose it,-for he was a divil.

An' there wasn't a girl, from thirty-five under,

Niver a matter how cross, but he could come round her.
But of all the sweet girls that smiled on him, but one
Was the girl of his heart, an' he loved her alone.

An' warm as the sun, as the rock firm and sure
Was the love of the heart of Phaidrig Crohoore;
An' he'd die for one smile from his Kathleen O'Brien,
For his love, like his hatred, was strong as a lion.

But Michael O'Hanlon loved Kathleen as well
As he hated Crohoore,-deep as old ocean's swell!
But O'Brien liked Hanlon, for they were the same parties,
The O'Briens, O'Hanlons, an' Murphys, and Carthys-

An' they all went together an' hated Crohoore,
For it's many's the batin' he gave them before:

An' O'Hanlon made up to O'Brien, an' says he;

"I'll marry your daughter if you'll give her to me."

An' the match was made up, an' Shrovetide came on,
The company assimbled, three hundred if one—
There was all the O'Hanlons and Murphys and Carthys
An' the young boys an' girls av all o' them parties.

An' the O'Briens, av coorse, gathered sthrong on that day,
An' the pipers an' fiddlers were tearin' away;
There was roarin', an' jumpin', an' jiggin', an' flingin',
An' jokin', an' blessin', an' kissin', an' singin'.

An' they all were a-laughin'-why not, to be sure?
How O'Hanlon came inside of Phaidrig Crohoore!

An' they all talked and laughed the length of the table,
Aitin' an' drinkin' the while they were able;

An' with pipin', an' fiddlin', an' roarin' like thunder,
Your head you'd think fairly was splittin' asunder.

And the priest called out—“ Silence, ye blackguards agin!” An' he took up his prayer-book, just goin' to begin.

And they all held their tongues from their funnin' and bawlin';

So silent you'd notice the smallest pin fallin'!

And the priest just beginnin' to read-when the door
Sprung back to the wall, and in walked Crohoore.

Oh! Phaidrig Crohoore was the broth of a boy, an' he stood six feet eight,

An' his arm was as round as another man's thigh-'tis Phaidrig was great!

An' he walked slowly up, watched by many a bright eye,
As a black cloud moves on through the stars of the sky.

An' none strove to stop him, for Phaidrig was great,
Till he stood all alone, just opposite the sate
Where O'Hanlon and Kathleen, his beautiful bride,
Were sittin' so illigant out side by side.

An' he gave her one look that her heart almost broke,
An' he turned to O'Brien, her father, and spoke;
An' his voice, like the thunder, was deep, sthrong an' loud,
An' his eyes shone like lightnin' from under the cloud:

"I didn't come here like a tame crawlin' mouse,
But I stand like a man in my inimy's house;

In the field, on the road, Phaidrig never knew fear
Of his foemen, an' God knows he'll not show it here.

"So lave me at aise for three minutes or four

To spake to the girl I'll never see more."

An' to Kathleen he turned, and his voice changed its tone
For he thought of the days when he called her his own.

An' his eye blazed like lightnin' from under the cloud
On his false-hearted girl, reproachful and proud.
An' says he, "Kathleen bawn, is it thrue what I hear,
That you marry of free choice, without threat or fear?

"If so, spake the word, and I'll turn and depart,
Chated once, and once only, by woman's false heart."
Oh! sorrow and love made the poor girl quite dumb,
An' she tried hard to spake, but the words wouldn't come;

For the sound of his voice, as he stood there fornint her,
Wint cold on her heart as the night wind in winther;
An' the tears in her blue eyes stood tremblin' to flow,
An' pale was her cheek as the moonshine on snow.
Then the heart of bould Phaidrig swelled high in its place,
For he knew, by one look in that beautiful face,

That the strangers an' foemen their pledged hands might sever,

Her true heart was his, and his only, forever!

An' he lifted his voice, like the eagle's hoarse call,
An' says Phaidrig, "She's mine still, in spite of ye all!"
Then up jumped O'Hanlon, an' a tall boy was he,
An' he looked on bould Phaidrig as fierce as could be;

An' says he, "By the hokey, before ye go out,
Bould Phaidrig Crohoore, you must fight for a bout."
Then Phaidrig made answer, "I'll do my endeavor;"
An' with one blow he stretched out bould Hanlon forever.
In his arms he took Kathleen an' stepped to the door,
An' he leaped on his horse, and flung her before;
An' they all were so bothered that not a man stirred,
Till the gallopin' hoofs on the pavement was heard.
Then up they all started, like bees in the swarm,
An' they riz a great shout, like the burst of a storm,
An' they roared, an' they ran, an' they shouted galore;
But Kathleen and Phaidrig they never saw more.

LORRAINE.-CHARLES KINGSLEY.

The line Barum', Barum', Barum', Barum', Barum', Barum', Barce', in the following poem, is simply a refrain and is supposed to be carelessly hummed to the music of the instruments which are being played for the performances in the circus ring.

"Are you ready for your steeple-chase, Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorree?

Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree. You're booked to ride your capping race to-day at Coulterlce, You're booked to ride Vindictive, for all the world to see, To keep him straight, and keep him first, and win the run for me.

Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree."

She clasped her new-born baby, poor Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorree,

Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree.