'Tis well said love is blind, for it oft leaves the mind
In a muddle of cross-cutting pains;
And Nora McGuire its passionate fire

Had kindled in both of their brains.

Though Timmins and Bill had succumbed to no will
That woman ere this might have wielded;
And stood quite aloof, and seemingly proof,
As though from her blandishments shielded-

They now were quite mastered and sore flabbergasted
By a cherry-faced maid with black eyes;

And their friendship's strong chain had a terrible strain In maneuvers to grapple the prize.

So to keep all things square 'twixt this strong loving pair, 'Twas agreed pretty nigh the beginning

They'd all malice belay whene'er fortune should play
Her pranks in the chances of winning.

Now Jackson could dance, or shuffle, or prance
Through a reel, or a minuet measure;

And when on his watch, whether Irish or Scotch
Was the jig, it was just for her pleasure.

But Timmins could sing like a lark on the wing,
And he knew all the ditties of Erin;

So he thought, the young sly, as he caught her sweet eye,
That straight for her heart he was steering.

With dancing and song sure it could not be long
Ere things would become very tender;

At least so it appeared to each one as he veered
To compel the neat craft to surrender.

They palavered the cook and the steward, and took
All their insolence, worry, and banter;

Did them all kinds of chores to get delicate stores,
For smiles of the lovely enchanter.

Tom wove her a mat of fanciful plait,

With initials of blue in the centre;

And this, with each ditty, and many things witty,

He put in love's debit anent her.

But Will went one better with something that met her Sweet fancy, at least for the nonce;

'Twas a fiery red cushion to put pin. and such in,

Which she pronounced lovely at once.

Somewhat taken aback Tom still held on his tack,
And rummaged for treasures more stunning;
He fished up whale's teeth, deftly carved in relief,
With fancies and colors becoming.

In this rivalrous way turn about was fair play,
And Will, who had roved in Japan,

Brought forth his jimcracks and cunning nick nacks,
And kickshaws, with slippers and fan.

And so this fine play bowled along every day
To the laughing delight of the crew;

Jesting freely went round, and the gay wags were found
Betting lively on who should pull through.

All the passengers too as well as the crew,

Took a jocular share in the zeal;

Some flattered Tom's singing, some Will's lively swinging
His neat legs around in the reel.

Now to keep matters trim they took up the whim

Of slipping our tars many a notion;

Many brooches and rings and hosts of neat things
Were heaped on the scales of devotion.

Though Nora was reaping a harvest, and heaping
Her kerchief with treasures quite naively;
No sigh of surrender came forth,-'gainst the tender
Of love's gifts her heart held out bravely.

It was wonderful, too, to the captain and crew,
That our heroes' good will hadn't altered;

No matter what chance each one's hopes could enhance,
Their faith in each other ne'er faltered.

Orestes and Pylades abandoned the ladies

To roam through the wild world together,

And Pythias and Damon were known to all laymen
As ready to die for each other.

But I vow through all time there is naught in the line
Of true friendship like this we are citing;

E'en Jonathan and David, so strongly paraded,
Would hardly be worth the inditing

When compared with the case of two tars without grace,
And both loving the same black-eyed maid,

Yet keeping in view their affection so true,
Without taint or true honor betrayed.

1

Meanwhile the old ship, without falter or trip,

Unwitting of love or love making,

Was fast speeding her way through the silvery spray,
And seas from her cutwater shaking.

She at last settled down at gay New Orleans town,
And folded her wings at the pier;

And they who had parted from Erin's warm-hearted,
Were hailed with kind hands and good cheer.

Tom and Will flew about to get Nora's traps out,
Her baubles and every fine notion;

And they tried to repeat all the blarney so sweet,
That had often expressed their devotion,

But Nora had turned where an anxious eye burned
In search of a form and a face,

That with beautiful truth had the dreamland of youth
Blest with visions of innocent grace.

From the taffrail there sprung a lithe form, and young, That dived through the groups on the deck;

Ah! yes-Nora was there, and Terence Adair

Felt a choking at fortune's kind beck.

She rushed to his arms with all her sweet charms-
The kisses were scores to the letter;

And 'twas plainly avowed by the cynical crowd,
None there could have managed them better.

Then he gathered his rose in her loveliest pose,
And bore her away in his ardor;

While she waved an adieu to the wild laughing crew,
With the love she ever did harbor.

THE SOLUTION.-JOHN W. RYAN.

To-day a cripple passed me on the way,
A hideous blot upon the summer day,
And as he sidled by with idiot leer,

I said, "What earthly purpose serve you here?"

To-night beside a chasm's yawning lips,

Like star beam struggling through a cloud eclipse,
A hunchback swings a lantern far and wide-
A warning light that will not be denied.

TANTALUS: TEXAS.--JOAQUIN MILLER.

The Llano Estacado, or Staked Plain (so called from the means taken by the Mexicans to mark a track for travelers), is a large table-land to the west of the State of Texas, and is without a stream in its extent.

"If I may trust your love," she cried,
"And you would have me for a bride,
Ride over yonder plain, and bring
Your flask full from the Mustang spring;
Fly, fast as western eagle's wing,
O'er the Llano Estacado!"

He heard, and bowed without a word,
His gallant steed he lightly spurred;
He turned his face, and rode away
Towards the grave of dying day,
And vanished with its parting ray
On the Llano Estacado.

Night came, and found him riding on,
Day came, and still he rode alone.

He spared not spur, he drew not rein,
Across that broad, unchanging plain,
Till he the Mustang spring might gain,
On the Llano Estacado.

A little rest, a little draught,

Hot from his hand, and quickly quaffed,
His flask was filled, and then he turned.
Once more his steed the maguey spurned
Once more the sky above him burned
On the Llano Estacado.

How hot the quivering landscape glowed!
His brain seemed boiling as he rode,-
Was it a dream, a drunken oue,

Or was he really riding on?

Was that a skull that gleamed and shone
On the Llano Estacado?

"Brave steed of mine, brave steed!" he cried,

So often true, so often tried,

Bear up a little longer yet!"

His mouth was black with blood and sweat-
Heaven! how he longed his lips to wet!
On the Llano Estacado.

And still, within his breast, he held
The precious flask so lately filled.

Oh, for a drink! But well he knew
If empty it should meet her view,
Her scorn- But still his longing grew
On the Llano Estacado.

His horse went down. He wandered on,
Giddy, blind, beaten, and alone.
While upon cushioned couch you lie,
Oh, think how hard it is to die,
Beneath the cruel, unclouded sky,
On the Llano Estacado.

At last he staggered, stumbled, fell,
His day was done, he knew full well.
And raising to his lips the flask,

The end, the object of his task,
Drank to her,―more she could not ask.
Ah! the Llano Estacado!

That night in the Presidio,

Beneath the torchlights' wavy glow,
She danced—and never thought of him,
The victim of a woman's whim.
Lying with face upturned and grim,
On the Llano Estacado.

THE WOMAN WHO LINGERS.

She stands on the corner, with a squad of female friends, and smiles at the car driver, at the same time signaling him with her parasol. As soon as he begins to slacken his pace, she opens out in a conversation with her friends. The car stops, and the conductor waits. She glances around at him, steps down from the curbstone, and branches off into a fresh lot of talk. The conductor looks mad. He requests her to hurry up. She rushes at the car, seizes the iron hand-rail to make sure that she has got that car all safe and certain, and then determines that she will have her talk out or perish on the flag-stones then and there. She has more last words than the Indian chief who refused to die and go to the happy hunting-grounds until he had said the Ten Commandments and the Constitution of the United States, including the Fifteenth Amendment backwards three times in his native tongue. She holds on to that rail grimly, plants one foot