"I cannot ride Vindictive, as any man might see,

And I will not ride Vindictive, with this baby on my knee; He's killed a boy, he's killed a man, and why must he kill me?"

"Unless you ride Vindictive, Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorree, Unless you ride Vindictive to-day at Coulterlee,

And land him safe across the brook, and win the blank for me,

It's you may keep your baby, for you'll get no keep from me." "That husbands could be cruel," said Lorraine, Lorraine,

Lorree,

"That husbands could be cruel, I have known for seasons three;

But oh! to ride Vindictive while a baby cries for me,

And be killed across a fence at last, for all the world to see?"

She mastered young Vindictive-oh! the gallant lass was

she!

And she kept him straight, and won the race, as near as near could be;

But he killed her at the brook against a pollard willow tree, Oh! he killed her at the brook-the brute!-for all the

world to see,

And no one but the baby cried for poor Lorraine, Lorree.

OLD DADDY TURNER.

This was the picture in front of "Old Daddy Turner's" cabin in the "Kaintuck" quarter the other afternoon: Two colored men sitting on a wash-bench, silent and sorrowful; an old dog, sleeping in the sun at their feet, and a colored woman calling to a boy who was on the fence: "Now, Jeems Henry, you git right down from dat! Doan you know dat Daddy Turner am jist on de p’int of dyin' and gwine up to Hebben?"

Here was the picture inside: The poor old white-headed man lying on his dying bed, flesh wasted away and strength departed. Near him sat his faithful old wife, rocking to and fro and moaning and grieving. Further away was a colored man and woman, solemn-faced and sad-hearted, and shaking their heads as they cast glances toward the bed. For a long time the old man lay quiet and speechless, but at length

he signed to be propped up. A sun as warm as springtime poured into the room. He took notice of it, and a change came to his face as his eyes rested upon his grieving wife. "Ize bin gwine back in my mind!" he whispered, as he reached out his thin hand for her to clasp. "Fur ober fo'ty y'ars we's trabbled 'long de same path. We sarved de same master as slaves 'way back in de dim past. We sang de same songs-we prayed de same prayers-we had hold of han's when we listed in de Gospel ranks an' sot our faces to'rds de golden gates of Hebben. Ole woman, Jze gwine to part wid you! Yes, Ize gwine ter leave yer all alone!"

"Oh! Daddy! Daddy!" she wailed as she leaned over him. "Doan't take on so, chile! It's de Lawd's doin's, not mine. To-morrow de sun may be as bright an' warm, but de ole man won't be heah. All de arternoon Ize had glimpses of a shady path leadin' down to de shor' of a big, broad ribber. Ize seen people gwine down dar to cross ober, an' in a leetle time I'll be wid 'em."

She put her wrinkled face on the pillow beside his and sobbed, and he placed his hand on her head and said:

"It's de Lawd, chile-de hressed Lawd! Chile, Ize tried to be good to yer. You has been good to me. We am nuffin but ole cull'd folks, po' in eberyting, but tryin' to do right by eberybody. When dey tole me I'd got to die, I wasn't sartin if de Lawd wanted a po' ole black man like me up dar in His golden Hebben 'mong de angels, but He'll take me— yes, chile, He will! Dis mawnin' I heard de harps playin', de rustle of wings, an' a cloud sorter lifted up an' I got a cl'ar view right frew de pearly gates. I saw ole slaves an' nayburs dar, an' dey was jist as white as anybody, an' a hundred han's beckoned me to come right up dar 'mong 'em."

"Oh, Daddy! I'll be all alone-all alone!" she wailed. "Hush, chile! Ize gwine to be lookin' down on ye! Ize gwine to put my han' on yer head an' kiss ye when yer heart am big wid sorrow, an' when night shets down an' you pray to de Lawd, I'll be kneelin' long side of ye. Ye won't see me, but I'll be wid ye. You's old an' gray. It won't be long before ye'll git de summons. In a little time de cloud will lif' fur ye, an' I'll be right dar by de pearly gates to take ye in my arms."

"But I can't let you go--I will hold you down heah wid me!"

"Chile! Ize sorry for ye, but Ize drawin' nigh dat shady path! Hark! I kin h'ah de footsteps of de mighty parade of speerits marchin' down to de broad ribber! Dey will dig a grave an' lay my ole bones dar, an' in a week all de world but you will forgit me. But doan' grieve, chile. De Lawd isn't gwine to shet de gates on me cause I'm ole an' po' an' black. I kin see dem shinin' way up dar-see our boy at de gate-h'ah de sweetest music dat angels kin play!—Light de lamp, chile, 'cause de night has come !"

66

Oh! he's gwine-he's gwine!" she wailed, as her tears fell upon his face.

"Chile! hold my han'! Ober heah am de path! I kin see men an' women an' chil'en marchin' 'long! Furder down am de sunlight. It shines on de great ribber! Ober de ribber am-de-gates-of-"

Of Heaven! On earth, old and poor and low-beyond the gates, an angel with the rest. -Detroit Free Press.

KATIE'S ANSWER.

Och, Katie's a rogue, it is thrue;
But her eyes, like the sky, are so blue
An' her dimples so swate,

An' her ankles so nate,

She dazed an' she bothered me too.

Till one mornin' we wint for a ride;
Whin demure as a bride, by my side
The darlint she sat,

Wid the wickedest hat
Neath purty girl's chin iver tied.

An' my heart, arrah thin how it bate;
For my Kate looked so temptin' an' swate
Wid cheeks like the roses,

An' all the red posies

That grow in her garden so nate.

But I sat just as mute as the dead
Till she said, wid a toss of her head,

2DDDDD*

"If I'd known that to-day,

Ye'd have nothing to say,

I'd have gone wid my cousin instead."
Thin I felt myself grow very bold;
For I knew she'd not scold if I told
Uv the love in my heart,

That would niver depart,

Though I lived to be wrinkled an old.
An' I said, "If I dared to do so,
I'd lit go uv the baste an' I'd throw
Both arms round your waist,

An' be stalin' a taste

Uv them lips that are coaxin' me so."

Thin she blushed a more illegant red,
As she said widout raisin' her head,
An' her eyes lookin' down
Neath her lashes so brown,

"Would ye like me to drive, Misther Ted?"

THE FIRST TE DEUM.-MARGARET J. PRESTON.

'Twas Easter night in Milan, and before

The altar in the great Basilica

St. Ambrose stood. At the baptismal font
Kneeled a young neophyte, his brow still wet
With the symbolic water, and near by-
The holy Monica, her raised eyes strained
As with unearthly ecstasy she breathed
Her Nunc dimittis Domine! The words

Of comfort spoken, "Be sure the child for whom
Thy mother-heart hath poured so many prayers,
Shall not be lost," had full accomplishment,
And her tired heart found peace.

St. Ambrose raised

His hands to heaven and on his face there shone Such light as glorified the prophet's when

An angel from the altar bare a coal

And touched his lips. With solemn step and slow

He turned to meet Augustine as he rose

Up from the pavement and thereon he brake

Forth in ascriptive chant:

"We praise Thee, God,

And we acknowledge Thee to be the Lord!"

Augustine on the instant caught the tone
Of answering exultation:

"All the earth

Doth worship Thee, the Father everlasting!"
And from the altar rail came back again

Aloud, the heavens and all the powers therein."
And from the font

"To Thee the cherubim

And seraphim continually do cry

'Oh, Holy, Holy, Holy, Thou Lord God

Of Sabaoth!' Heaven and earth are full of all
The glory of Thy majesty!"

And then

With upward gaze, as if he looked upon
The infinite multitude about the throne,
St. Ambrose uttered with triumphant voice,

"The glorious company of the Apostles ""Praise Thee!" burst reverent from Augustine's lips. "The goodly fellowship of all the prophets "

"Praise Thee!" "The noble army of the martyrs "— "Praise Thee!"

Thus back and forth responsive rolled

The grand antiphonal, until the crowd

That kneeled throughout the vast Basilica

Rose to their feet, and toward the altar pressed

With one strong impulse drawn. The breath of God Had, to their thought, inspired these mortal tongues To which they listened, as beneath a spell

Vatic and wonderful.

And when the last

Response was reached, and the rapt speakers stood
With eyelids closed,—as those who had seen God
And could not brook at once a mortal face,-
Awe-struck the people bowed their heads and wept.
Then uttered with acclaim one long Amen.

RIDING DOWN.-NORA PERRY.

Oh, did you see him riding down,
And riding down while all the town
Came out to see, came out to see,
And all the bells rang mad with glee?