"Austrian and priest had joined to double and tighten the cord Able to bind thee, O strong one, free by the stroke of the sword.

"Now be grave for the rest of us, using the life overcast To ripen our wine of the present (too new) in glooms of the past."

Down she stept to a pallet where lay a face like a girl's, Young, and pathetic with dying — a deep black hole-in the curls.

"Art thou from Tuscany, brother? and seest thou, dreaming in pain,

Thy mother stand in the piazza, searching the list of the slain?"

Kind as a mother herself, she touched his cheek with her

hands:

"Blessed is she who has borne thee, although she should weep as she stands."

On she passed to a Frenchman, his arm carried off by a ball:

Kneeling.. "O more than my brother! how shall I thank thee for all?

"Each of the heroes around us has fought for his land and line,

But thou hast fought for a stranger, in hate of a wrong not thine.

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Happy are all free peoples too strong to be dispossessed, But blessed are those among nations, who dare to be strong for the rest!"

Ever she passed on her way, and came to a couch where pined

One with a face from Venetia, white with a hope out of mind.

Long she stood and gazed, and twice she tried at the name, But two great crystal tears were all that faltered and came.

Only a tear for Venice? - she turned as in passion and loss, And stooped to his forehead and kissed it, as if she were kissing the cross.

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Faint with that strain of heart she moved on then to another, Stern and strong in his death. And dost thou suffer, my brother?"

Holding his hands in hers: - "Out of the Piedmont lion Cometh the sweetness of freedom! sweetest to live or to die on."

Holding his cold rough hands,—“Well, oh well have ye done

In noble, noble Piedmont, who would not be noble alone."

Back he fell while she spoke. She rose to her feet with a spring

"That was a Piedmontese! and this is the Court of the King." ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

TICKLED ALL OAFER.

THE Chief of Police yesterday had a visit from an old farmer living out on the Center Line road, who had a story to tell. After two or three efforts, he began:

“I vhas goin home, last night, ven I overtakes two men on der roadt. Dose fellers dey laft, und saidt would I gif 'em a ride? I laft, too, und say, 'shump in.'"

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"Yes, I understand."

Pooty queek one feller laft, und saidt he likes Dutchmens, 'cause his uncle vas a Dutchmans. Dot vhas all right, und so I laft, too. I vhas real tickled, und I shakes all oafer."

"Yes."

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In a leetle vhile one feller vhants me to shange a seventollar bill, so as he could gif some money to der orphan assylums; und he lafts, ha! ha! ha! Dot tickled me some more, und I lafts too. Den de odder feller, he grabs me py der collar und pulls me down behind, und says dey looks in my pockets for a shteampoat dot vos stolen from Detroit. Dot makes us all laff, like some goot shoke."

"It must have been funny."

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'It vhas. Dose fellers took out my wallet and counted oop der monish. I had shust ten tollar; und dey laft, und said dot dey must go on some trips to der seashore mit dot. Dot tickled me some more, und I laft, too."

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Well, what then?

Vhell, den dey shumped oud, und put deir fingers on der noses, und says, Goot-py, old Dutchmans,' und avhay dey goes like some horse-races."

"And you didn't laugh at that?"

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Vhell, not pooty much. I vhas all ready to, but I shtopped. If dem fellers vhas up to shokes, it was all right; but if they vhas robbers, I vhants you to catch 'em, und gif 'em some pieces of my mind, like dunder. I doan' like somepody to laff at me vhen they doan' feel tickled all oafer."

A PENITENT.

ARRAH, Nora, don't look like a thunder-cloud darlint:
What harm if I did stale a kiss from your lips?
No sinsible bee meets a smiling young rose, sure,
But stops, the sly thafe, and a honey-drop sips.
And, rose of the wurruld, spake aisy now, ain't I
More sinsible far than a vagabond bee?

And how could I see the swate kiss that was lying
There on your red lips, as though waiting for me,
And not take it, darlint? Och, Nora, give o'er!
Faith, I'm awful sorry — I didn't take more.

'Twas your fault, intirely. Why did you smile at me?
So great a timptation no man could resist,

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For your laughing blue eyes, and your cheeks wid a dimple.
And your dilicate mouth said, We're here to be kissed."
And could I be dreaming they didn't spake truth, dear
Sure beautiful fatures like thim never lie;

If they do you should hide them, and not be desaving
Such an innocent, trusting young fellow as I.
Are you frowning still, darlint? Och, Nora, give o'er!
Don't I tell you I'm sorry I didn't take more?

MARGARET EYTINGE.

NEBUCHADNEZZAH.

You, Nebuchadnezzah, whoa, sah!
Whar is you tryin' to go, sah?
I'd hab you for to know, sah,
I's holdin' ob de lines.
You'd better stop dat prancin';
You's pow'ful fond ob dancin'
But I bet my yeah's advancin'
Dat I'll cure you ob your shines.

Look heah, mule! better min' out-
Fus' t'ing you know, you'll fin' out
How quick I'll wear this line out

On your ugly, stubbo'n back.
You needn't try to steal up,
An' lif' dat precious heel up;
You's got to plough this fiel' up,
You has, sah, for a fac',

Dar, dat's de way to do it!
He's comin' right down to it;
Jes' watch him ploughin' t'roo it;
Dis nigger ain't no fool.
Some folks dey would 'a beat him —
Now dat would only heat him
I know jes' how to treat him
You must reason wid a mule.

He minds me like a nigger;
If he was only bigger
He'd fotch a mighty figger,

He would, I tell you! Yes, sah!
See how he keeps a'clickin',
He's as gentle as a chicken,
An' nebber thinks ob kickin'-
Whoa, dah! Nebuchadnezzah.

Is dis heah me, or not me?

Or is de debble got me?
Was dat a cannon shot me?

Hab I laid heah more'n a week?
Dat mule do kick amazin'—
De beast was spiled in raisin'-
But now I 'spect he's grazin'

On de oder side de creek.

ERWIN RUSSEL.

DEATH OF STEERFORTH.

I WAS aroused at eight or nine o'clock by some one knocking and calling at my door.

"A schooner from Spain or Portugal, laden with fruit and wine. Make haste, sir, if you want to see her! It's thought down on the beach she'll go to pieces every moment."

I wrapped myself in my clothes as quickly as I could, and ran into the street, where numbers of people were before me, all running in one direction, to the beach. I ran the same way, outstripping a good many, and soon came facing the wild sea. Every appearance it had before presented bore the expression of being swelled; and the height to which the breakers rose and bore one another down, and rolled in, in interminable hosts, was most appalling.

In the difficulty of hearing anything but wind and waves, and in the crowd, and the unspeakable confusion, and my first breathless efforts to stand against the weather, I was so confused that I looked out to sea for the wreck, and saw nothing but the foaming heads of the great waves.

A boatman laid a hand upon my arm, and pointed. Then I saw it, close in upon us.

One mast was broken short off, six or eight feet from the deck, and lay over the side, entangled in a maze of sail and rigging; and all that ruin, as the ship rolled and beat,-which she did with a violence quite inconceivable,-beat the side as if it would stave it in. Some efforts were being made to cut this portion of the wreck away; for as the ship, which was broadside on, turned towards us in her rolling, I plainly descried her people at work with axes, especially one active figure, with long curling hair. But a great cry, audible even above the wind and water, rose from the shore; the sea, sweeping over the wreck, made a clean breach, and carried men, spars, casks, planks, bulwarks, heaps of such toys, into the boiling surge.

The second mast was yet standing, with the rags of a sail, and a wild confusion of broken cordage, flapping to and fro. The ship had struck once, the same boatman said, and then lifted in, and struck again. I understood him to add that she was parting amidships. As he spoke there was another