Lady T. And I was a fool to marry you, an old dangling bachelor, who was single at fifty, only because no one would have him. Sir P. You were pleased enough to listen to me. You never had such an offer before. Lady T. No! didn't I refuse Sir Tivy Terrier, who every body said would have been a better match? for his estate is just as good as yours, and he has broke his neck since we have been married. Sir P. I have done with you, madam! You are an unfeeling, ungrateful-but there's an end of every thing. A separate maintenance as soon as you please. Yes, madam, or a divorce! I'll make an example of myself for the benefit of all old bachelors. Lady T. Agreed! agreed! And now, my dear Sir Peter, we are of a mind once more, we may be the happiest couple in the world-and never differ again, you know-ha! ha! ha! Well, you are going to be in a passion, I see, and I shall only interrupt you; so bye-bye. (Exit Lady T.) Sir P. Plagues and tortures! I am the most miserable fellow! Can't I make her angry either! O, keep her temper; no! she may break my heart, but she shan't keep her temper. Liberty and Independence. JULY 4, 1776. There was tumult in the city, In the quaint old Quaker town, Where they whispered each to each, As the bleak Atlantic currents Lash the wild Newfoundland shore, Sheridan. And the mingling of their voices "Will they do it?" "Dare they do it?" "Who is speaking?" "What's the news?" "What of Adams?" "What of Sherman?" "Oh! God grant they won't refuse; "Make some way there!" "Let me nearer! "I am stifling!" “Stifle, then! When a nation's life's at hazard, We've no time to think of men." So they beat against the portal, On the scene looked down and smiled. Shed his patriot blood in vain, See! see! the dense crowd quivers Hushed the people's swelling murmur, The old bellman lifts his hand, How they shouted! what rejoicing! How the old bell shook the air, That old State House bell is silent, Hushed is now its clamorous tongue; Still is living-ever young; And when we greet the smiling sunlight, We will ne'er forget the bellman, Mary Maloney's Philosophy. "What are you singing for?" said I to Mary Maloney. "Oh, I don't know, ma'am, without it's because my heart feels happy." 66 Happy, are you, Mary Maloney? Let me see; you don't own a foot of land in the world?" "Foot of land, is it?" she cried, with a hearty Irish laugh; "oh, what a hand ye be after joking; why, I haven't a penny, let alone the land." "Your mother is dead!" "God rest her soul, yes," replied Mary Maloney, with a touch of genuine pathos; "may the angels make her bed in heaven." “Your brother is still a hard case, I suppose." "Ah, you may well say that. It's nothing but drink, drink, drink, and beating his poor wife, that she is, the creature" "You have to pay your little sister's board." "Sure, the bit creature, and she's a good little girl, is Hinny, willing to do whatever I axes her. I don't grudge the money what goes for that." "You haven't many fashionable dresses either, Mary Maloney." Fashionable, is it? Oh, yes, I put a piece of whalebone in my skirt, and me calico gown looks as big as the great ladies'. But then ye says true, I hasn't but two gowns to me back, two shoes to me feet, and one bonnet to me head, barring the old hood ye gave me." "You haven't any lover, Mary Maloney." "Oh, be off wid ye-ketch Mary Maloney getting a lover these days, when the hard times is come. No, no, thank Heaven I haven't got that to trouble me yet, nor I don't want it.". "What on earth, then, have you got to make you happy? A drunken brother, a poor helpless sister, no mother, no father, no lover; why, where do you get all your happiness from?" "The Lord be praised, Miss, it growed up in me. Give me a bit of sunshine, a clean flure, plenty of work, and a sup at the right time, and I'm made. That makes me laugh and sing, and then if deep trouble comes, why, God helpin' me, I'll try to keep my heart up. Sure, it would be a sad thing if Patrick McGrue should take it into his head to come an ax me, but, the Lord willin', I'd try to bear up under it." Philadelphia Bulletin, The Ballad of Babie Bell. Have you not heard the poets tell The gates of heaven were left ajar: Wandering out of Paradise, She saw this planet, like a star, Hung in the glittering depths of even, Its bridges, running to and fro, O'er which the white-winged angels go, She touched a bridge of flowers, those feet, They fell like dew upon the flowers, Then all the air grew strangely sweet; And thus came dainty Babie Bell Into this world of ours. II. She came and brought delicious May, The swallows built beneath the eaves; Like sunlight in and out the leaves, The robins went, the livelong day; The lily swung its noiseless bell, And o'er the porch the trembling vine How sweetly, softly, twilight fell! And opening spring-tide flowers, When the dainty Babie Bell Came to this world of ours! III. O Babie, dainty Babie Bell, Was love so lovely born; We felt we had a link between This real world and that unseen, The land beyond the morn" |