An' looks at me, as if to say,
"We're glad to see you here!"
While you have been

As if to say,

66

So fast to toe the mark,

We waited till it rained, an' then
Got tickets for the ark!"

Yet there would be some in that crowd
I'd rather like to see:

My boy Jack - it must be allowed,
There was no worse than he!
I've always felt somewhat to blame,
In several different ways,
That he lay down on thorns o' shame
To end his boyhood days;

An' I'd be willin' to endure,

If that the Lord thought best,
A minute's quite hot temperature
To clasp him to my breast.

Old Captain Barnes was evil's son
With heterodoxy crammed;
I used to think he'd be the one
If any one was damned;
Still, when I saw a lot o' poor,

That he had clothed and fed,
Cry desolately round his door
As soon as he was dead,

There came a thought I couldn't control,
That in some neutral land
I'd like to meet that scorched-up soul,
An' shake it by the hand.

Poor Jennie Willis, with a cry

Of hopeless, sad distress,
Sank sudden down, one night, to die.

All in her ball-room dress;

She had a precious little while

To pack up an' away;

She even left her sweet good smile-
'Twas on the face next day;

Her soul went off unclothed by even
One stitch of saving grace;
How could she hope to go to heaven,
An' start from such a place?

But once, when I lay sick an' weak,
She came an' begged to stay;
She kissed my faded, wrinkled cheek
She soothed my pain away;

She brought me sweet bouquets of flowers
As fresh as her young heart-

Through many long an' tedious hours
She played a Christian part;
An' ere I long will stand aroun'
The singin' saints among,
I'll try to take some water down,
To cool poor Jennie's tongue.

But tears can never quench my creed,
Nor smooth God's righteous frown,
Though all the preachers learn to read
Their Bibles upside down.

I hold mine right side up with care
To shield my eyes from sin,
An' coax the Lord, with daily prayer,
To call poor wanderers in;

But if the sinners won't draw nigh,
An' take salvation's plan,

I'll have to stand an' see 'em try
To dodge hell if they can.

WILL CARLETON.

PENN'S MONUMENT.*

BORN in stormy times, he walked amid troubled waters all his days. In an age of bitter persecution and unbridled wickedness he never wronged his conscience. A favored member of court where statesmanship was intrigue and trickery, where the highest morality was corruption, and whose austerity was venality, he never stained his hands with a bribe. Living under a government at war with the people, and educated in a school that taught the doctrine of passive obedience, his life-long dream was of popular government, of a state where the people ruled. In his

From "William Penn," in the "Lives of American Worthies." Published by Henry Holt and Co.

early manhood, at the bidding of conscience, against the advice of his nearest friends, in opposition to stern paternal commands, against every dictate of worldly wisdom and human prudence, in spite of all the dazzling temptations of ambition so alluring to the heart of a young man, he turned away from the broad, fair highway to wealth, post, position, and distinction that the hands of a king opened before him, and casting his lot with the sect weakest and most unpopular in England, through paths that were tangled with trouble and lined with pitiless thorns of persecution, he walked into honor and fame, and the reverence of the world, such as royalty could not promise and could not give him.

In the land where he planted his model State, to-day no descendant bears his name. In the religious society for which he suffered banishment from home, persecution, and the prison, to-day no child of his blood and name walks in Christian fellowship nor stands uncovered in worship. His name has faded out of the living meetings of the Friends, out of the land that crowns his memory with sincerest reverence. Even the uncertain stone that would mark his grave stands doubtingly among the kindred ashes that hallow the ground where he sleeps.

But his monument, grander than storied column of granite or noble shapes of bronze, is set in the glittering brilliants of mighty States between the seas. His noblest epitaph is written in the State that bears his honored name. The little town he planned to be his capital has become a city larger in area` than any European capital he knew. Beyond his fondest dreams has grown the State he planted in the wilderness by "deeds of peace." Out of the gloomy mines that slept in rayless mystery beneath its mountains while he lived, the measureless wealth of his model State sparkles and glows on millions of hearthstones. From its forests of derricks and miles of creeping pipe-lines, the world is lighted from the State of Penn, with a radiance to which the sons of the founder's sons were blind.

Roaring blast and smoky forge and ringing hammer are tearing and beating the wealth of princes from his mines that the founder never knew. Clasping the continent, from sea to sea, stretches a chain of States as free as his own; from sunrise to sunset reaches a land where the will of the people is the supreme law, a land that never felt the press

ure of a throne and never saw a sceptre. And in the heart of the city that was his capital, in old historic halls still stands the bell that first, in the name of the doctrines that he taught his colonists, proclaimed liberty throughout the land and to all the inhabitants thereof. This is his monument, and every noble charity gracing the State he founded is his epitaph.

R. J. BURDETT.

"ONLY A CRIPPLED SOLDIER!"

"HERE'S yer oranges, my hearties! jest imported from the South;

Fresh and sweet as smiles of beauty lingerin' round a

maiden's mouth.

Walk right up and leave a nickel, to assist me on my

'Here to-day and gone to-morrow,' is the motto I endorse. When we've sold the second dozen, Jack and I will sing a

song,

For I've found a power in music to assist the thing along. Jack's an infant I am raisin' - found him on the streets one

night

Cuddled up behind a barrel, almost dead from cold and fright;

When I saw that he was starvin', and was far from being

strong,

As he had no one to love him, I jest toted him along.

He has brought me piles o' comfort that I never knew

before,

Since we sort o' jined our fortunes and enlisted for the war. Half a dozen, did you say, sir? Now, that's hearty, I

confess;

But you're sure to be the gainer in relievin' my distress.
In the bivouac and battle each one plays a special part,
But the stars that shine the brightest find their orbits in the
heart.

66

'Crippled? Well, I'm slightly varied from the true Apollo plan,

That is said to form the standard for a model, handsome

man;

I am largely built of timber, fashioned into arms and legs,

But I do a deal o' thumpin' on these sturdy wooden

pegs.

Still the heart is there the same, sir, and my head is firm and clear,

When you reckon in the balance that I've turned my fiftieth year.

What is that you're saying? Al'ays? No, I wasn't al'ays so;

I was what the world calls handsome, in my youth, I'd have you know.

I was fitted out with riggin', jest as perfect as could be, And could move about as graceful as you'd ever wish to

see;

But I stood too near a cannon on the battle-field one day, And my limbs were badly scattered when they bore my frame away.

"Who's the next? Here, Jack, you rascal, what are you in hidin' for?

You must never act the coward, though you haven't been to

war,

The poor boy is rather modest, sort o' girlish in his ways; But he'll change to diffrent metal if he roughs it all his

days.

He can beat the world at larnin', takes to books amazin' smart,

And has got the easiest letters in the alphabet by heart.
I am calculatin', somewhat, ere this nature pays its debt,
I shall have him educated for the halls of Congress yet.
What is that you're sayin', Jackey? You are feelin' kind o'

cold?

Well, we'll hunt a warmer corner when these oranges are

sold.

Here, I'll spare this ragged jacket! it will help the matter

some.

And my frame's so used to freezin' it has long been sort o' numb.

We must never murmur, Jackey, at the hardness of our

lot

Though our country has forgot us, I am certain God has

not.