Who once began to linger in the street

How varied are the images arising to n Of those who wished to shun the wro praised the right!

Yet from the silken bonds of sloth they Which held them gently prisoned in and-By.

Then shun the spot, my youthful while yet you may;

d

Let not old age o'ertake you as you slo Lest you should gaze around you, and You have reached the house of “Neve By-and-By.

Ex. 78.

LULLABY.- T

SWE

WEET and low, sweet a
Wind of the western s

Low, low, breathe and blow,
Wind of the western sea!
Over the rolling waters go,
Come from the dying moon,
Blow him again to me;
my little one, while my pr

While

er will come to his babe in the nest, r sails all out of the west

ader the silver moon ;

little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.

THE SMACK IN SCHOOL. — Palmer.

ISTRICT school, not far away, Mid Berkshire hills, one winter's day, _mming with its wonted noise escore mingled girls and boys; w upon their task intent, re on furtive mischief bent, ile the master's downward look tened on a copy-book;

uddenly, behind his back,

arp and clear a rousing smack! ere a battery of bliss

in one tremendous kiss!

's that?" the startled master cries; hir," a little imp replies,

William Willith, if you pleathe,-
him kith Thuthanna Peathe!"
own to make a statue thrill,

ster thundered, "Hither, Will!"
etch o'ertaken in his track,

olen chattels on his back,

ng his head in fear and shame,

the awful presence came,

What evil genius put you to ́t?
"'T was she herself, sir," sobbed
"I did not mean to be so bad;
But when Susannah shook her
And whispered I was 'fraid of g
And dursn't kiss a baby's doll,
I could n't stand it, sir, at all,
But up and kissed her on the sp
I know boo-hoo- I ought to
But, somehow, from her looks-
I thought she kind o' wished me

Ex. 80. THE QUARREL.

ALAS! they had been friends

But whispering tongues can And constancy lives in realms abo And life is thorny; and youth i And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the And thus it chanced, as I divine, With Roland and Sir Leoline! Each spoke words of high disdain And insult to his heart's best br They parted, ne'er to meet again But never either found another

To free the hollow heart from pain

They stood aloof, the scars remaining,
Like cliffs which had been rent asunder;
A dreary sea now flows between,

But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder
Shall wholly do away, I ween,

The marks of that which once hath been.

Ex. 81. — THE MOTHER'S LAST SONG.— Barry Cornwall.

LEEP! The ghostly winds are blowing!

No moon abroad, no star is glowing;
The river is deep, and the tide is flowing
To the land where you and I are going!
We are going afar,

Beyond moon or star,

To the land where the sinless angels are!

I lost my heart to your heartless sire
('T was melted away by his looks of fire),
Forgot my God, and my father's ire,
All for the sake of a man's desire;
But now we 'll go

Where the waters flow,

And make us a bed where none shall know.

The world is cruel, the world is untrue;
Our foes are many, our friends are few;
No work, no bread, however we sue!
What is there left for me to do

But fly-fly

From the cruel sky,

And hide in the deepest deeps, and, die?

THE

HERE are gains for all our losses,
There are balms for all our pains,
But when youth, the dream, departs,
It takes something from our hearts,
And it never comes again

We are stronger and are better

Under manhood's sterner reign;
Still we feel that something sweet
Followed youth, with flying feet,
And will never come again.

Something beautiful is vanished,
And we sigh for it in vain;
We behold it everywhere,
On the earth and in the air,
But it never comes again.

Ex. 83. HANG UP HIS HARP. Eliza Cook.

HIS young bride stood beside his bed,

Her weeping watch to keep;

Hush! hush! he stirred not,

Or did he only sleep?

was he dead,

His brow was calm, no change was there,

No sigh had filled his breath;

Oh! did he wear that smile so fair

In slumber or in death?

"Reach down his harp," she wildly cried,
"And if one spark remain,

85