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THE TROUBLESOME WIFE.
A truce without doors, or within,
He every soothing art displayed;
Failing in all, to Heaven he prayed, to take her.
Once, walking by a river's side,
In mournful terms, "My dear," he cried,
"No more let feuds our peace divide: I'll end them.
"Or nature may assert her reign,
My arms assist, my will restrain,
And swimming, I once more regain my troubles."
With eager haste the dame complies,
While joy stands glistening in her eyes:
"Yet, when I view the rolling tide,
"It would be better far, I think,
You push me in-nay, never shrink, but do it."
To give the blow the more effect,
Some twenty yards she ran direct,
And did what she could least expect she should do.
He slips aside, himself to save,
So souse she dashes in the wave,
And gave, what ne'er before she gave, much pleasure.
"Dear husband, help! I sink!" she cried;
"Thou best of wives," the man replied,
"I would, but you my hands have tied : Heaven help you."
THE DEATH OF O'CONNELL.
THE DEATH OF O'CONNELL.-WILLIAM H. SEWARD.
THERE is sad news from Genoa. An aged and weary pilgrim,
who can travel no further, passes beneath the gate of one of her ancient palaces, saying, with pious resignation, as he enters its silent chambers, "Well, it is God's will that I shall never see Rome. I am disappointed. But I am ready to die. It is all right." The superb though fading Queen of the Mediterranean holds anxious, watch, through ten long days, over that majestic stranger's wasting frame. And now death is there-the Liberator of Ireland has sunk to rest in the Cradle of Columbus.
Coincidence beautiful and most sublime! It was the very day set apart by the elder daughter of the Church for prayer and sacrifice throughout the world, for the children of the sacred island, perishing by famine and pestilence in their homes and in their native fields, and on their crowded paths of exile, on the sea and in the havens, and on the lakes, and along the rivers of this fardistant land. The chimes rung out by pity for his countrymen were O'Connell's fitting knell; his soul went forth on clouds of incense that rose from altars of Christian charity; and the mournful anthems which recited the faith, and the virtue, and the endurance of Ireland, were his becoming requiem.
It is a holy sight to see the obsequies of a soldier, not only of civil liberty, but of the liberty of conscience--of a soldier, not only of freedom, but of the Cross of Christ-of a benefactor, not merely of a race of people, but of mankind. The vault lighted by suspended worlds is the temple within which the great solemnities are celebrated. The nations of the earth are mourners; and the spirits of the just made perfect, descending from their golden thrones on high, break forth into songs.
Behold now a nation which needeth not to speak its melancholy precedence. The lament of Ireland comes forth from palaces deserted, and from shrines restored; from Boyne's dark water, witness of her desolation, and from Tara's lofty hill, ever echoing her renown. But louder and deeper yet that wailing comes from the lonely huts on mountain and on moor, where the people of the greenest island of all the seas are expiring in the midst of
HENRY V. TO HIS SOLDIERS.
insufficient though world-wide charities. Well indeed may they deplore O'Connell, for they were his children; and he bore them
"A love so vehement, so strong, so pure,
That neither age could change nor art coul cure."
HENRY V. TO HIS SOLDIERS.-SHAKESPEARE.
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
pray thee do not wish for one man more. By Jove, I am not covetous of gold;
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;-
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, 'faith, my Lord, wish not a man from England :
As only one man more would share from me,
For the best hope I have. O! do not wish one more.
This day is called the feast of Crispian.
Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars.
HERE SHE GOES-AND THERE SHE GOES. 39
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,—
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
HERE SHE GOES-AND THERE SHE GOES.
WO Yankee wags, one summer day,
The breakfast over, Tom and Will
But hold! what wonder meets my sight?
Tom! the surprise is quite a shock!"
"What wonder? where?" "The clock! the clock!"
Tom and the landlord in amaze
Stared at the clock with stupid gaze,
And for a moment neither spoke;
40 HERE SHE GOES—AND THERE SHE GOES.
"You mean the clock that's ticking there?
Though may be, if the truth were told,
Yet time it keeps to half a minute,
"Tom, don't you recollect," said Will,
With which I won the wager pleasant?
That it was more than he could do,
"Well, if I would, the deuce is in it!"
"Don't make us wait;