Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen;
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still.

And there lay the steed with his nostrils all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride:
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!

FORTY TO TWENTY.

▲ DRAWING-ROOM DRAMA.

Tears in your eyes! and why? Because you find
That he you love is mortal after all?

Dear, silly coz, what else did you expect?

You met the man, and though you said no word,
Your eyes were eloquent, and warmly spoke
The electric language of the universe.

You thought him brilliant—ay, he's truly so;
Brilliant enough to know, ere many days,
What spell the magic of his genius cast
Upon a bright but untrained country-girl.
Your fresh, frank ways, your eager earnestness,
Were revelations to the sated lion.

'Tis writ in books, 'tis said by wagging tongues,
That women are the weaker vessels, coz.
Our love of approbation is so great,
We'd sell our birthright for a mess of it.
When'er potential "he" pours in our ears
The honey kept on tap for our poor sex,
We melt as wax before the burning sun;
And being born thus weak, fulfilling fate.

It makes a deal of difference in this world
Whether you're born a man or woman, coz.
You've been taught from your birth that it takes two
To make a bargain. When it comes to sex,
But one's required---

It takes but one, and woman is that one!
So has it been since chaos settled down
Into the muddy mush that we call earth.
Man ever is an Adam, woman Eve:
He asks to taste the apple in her hand,
And when he's eaten it and is arraigned,
Exclaims, "Behold, the woman gave it me!"
Not manly, think you, to thus shrink results?
You call him coward for betraying Eve?
You say such reasoning would never hold
In any book of logic? True enough:

But when you've longer lived you'll surely learn,
Though logic's fact, fact is not logic, coz!
And you'll be in your grave, as well as I,
Before society revolves around

An axis of right reason.

Weeping still?

You fancy, coz, yours is the only heart

That has been trifled with? You long for death?
Now look at me: I'm envied by the world

Because I'm handsome, rich, endowed with wit,
And tact enough to know just what to say
And when to say it. My salon is thronged
With genius and with beauty, coz, because
I've sense enough to listen to the men,
And art enough to advertise the charms
Of my own sex, whatever be their kind.
Because of this, some call me politic:
But all admit that I am popular—

And you, 'mong others, wish to wear my shoes.
Why, silly coz, I'd gladly change with you,
To lose the memory of earlier days.

At your age I loved madly-loved with all
The passion of a soul that loves but once.
I thought my love returned: his vows, at least,
Were warm enough to melt a colder heart
Than nature gave to me. The man was born
Below my sphere; but genius knows no rank,
And I placed him above, beyond the herd
Of titled nobodies with addled brain.

I lived for this one man-for him alone;
We plighted troth; my parents threatened then
To cast me off, to disinherit me!

Defy our will, and you may beg for bread

Ere we will give heed to your misery!"

Said they who brought me into this kind world.
I loved and so was ready to brave all.

Not so the hero of my one romance;

His face grew pallid, and his speech confused;
He kissed me hastily-said he'd return

To claim me. How think you, coz, he claimed me?
He wrote a cold, brief note, in which he said
That he was far too proud a man to wed

In opposition to my family.

His grief had forced him to the Continent;
He hoped I might be happy, and then signed
Himself "sincerely" mine, etc.

None born with strong physiques e'er died of love;
I did not even faint or go to bed

Raving with fever as girls do in books;

I sent back that man's note without remark;
Assured my parents their will should be mine;
Was taken to their armis, and soon betrothed
To the old lord whose name I've so long borne.
He, to reward me for my sacrifice,

Died after our most placid honeymoon,
Leaving me mistress of his large estates.
One day, 'mid Roman ruins, I came upon
The man I once adored. He dared to speak;
Begged me to take him to my heart again,
Now that death had broken down the barriers.
I lashed the craven creature with my tongue,
And sent him cringing from me.

"Never more

Let me behold your face!" were my last words;
Full well have they been heeded. Then I came
Back to my native land, took up the game
Society demanded I should play.

I'm pointed out as fortune's favorite-
Perhaps I am!

Come, cousin, dry your tears!
Your wound's skin deep-mine penetrated far
And yet I'm not what people call a wreck.
You'll have no appetite; you'll lie awake;
You'll sigh, and sadly smile at merry jests.
This will endure for possibly a month,
During which time I promise to disclose
The true proportions of the demigod

You've worshiped at the altar of your dreams.
Then look up while I bathe

Your eyes in cooling spray. Now you are like
Your dear old self.

I'm hungry. Let us dine.

-Appleton's Journal.

THE LITTLE STOW-AWAY.*

"Ay, ay, sir; they're smart seamen enough, no doubt, them Dalmatians, and reason good, too, seein' they man half the Austrian navy; but they're not got the seasonin' of an Englishman, put it how yer will!”

I was standing on the upper deck of the Austrian Lloyd steamer, looking my last upon pyramidal Jaffa, as it rises up in terrace after terrace of stern gray masonry against the lustrous evening sky, with the foam-tipped breakers at its feet. Beside me, with his elbow on the hand-rail, and his short pipe between his teeth, lounged the stalwart chief-engineer, as thorough an Englishman as though he had not spent twothirds of his life abroad. He delighted to get hold of a listener, who-as he phrased it--" has been about a bit."

"No; they ain't got an Englishman's seasonin'," he continues, pursuing his criticism of the Dalmatian seamen; "and what's more, they ain't got an Englishman's pluck neither, not when it comes to a real scrape."

"Can no one but an Englishman have any pluck, then ?” asked I, laughing.

66

'Well, I won't just go for to say that; o' course a man as is a man 'ull have pluck in him all the world over. I've seed a Frencher tackle a shark to save his messmate; and I've seed a Rooshan stand to his gun arter every man in the battery, barrin' himself, had been blowed all to smash. But, if yer come to that, the pluckiest fellow as ever I seed warn't a man at all!"

"What was he, then? a woman?"

"No, nor that neither; though, mark ye, I don't go for to say as how women ain't got pluck enough too-some on 'em at least. My old 'ooman, now, saved me once from a lubber of a Portigee as was just a-goin' to stick a knife into me, when she cracked his nut with a handspike. (You can hear her spin the yarn yourself, if you likes to pay us a visit when we get to Constantinople.) But this un as I'm a talkin' on was a little lad not much bigger'n Tom Thumb, only with a spirit of his own as ud ha' blowed up a man-o'-war a'most. Would ye like to hear about it?"

*The same story is told in verse in No. 13, page 66, entitled "The Little Hero."

I eagerly assent; and the narrator, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, folds his brawny arms upon the top of the rail, and commences as follows;

"'Bout three years ago, afore I got this berth as I'm in now, I was second-engineer aboard a Liverpool steamer bound for New York. There'd been a lot of extra cargo sent down just at the last minute, and we'd had no end of a job stowin' it away, and that ran us late o' startin'; so that, altogether, you may think, the cap'n warn't in the sweetest temper in the world, nor the mate neither; as for the chief-engineer, he was an easy-goin' sort of a chap, as nothing on earth could put out. But on the mornin' of the third day out from Liverpool, he cum down to me in a precious hurry, lookin' as if somethin' had put him out pretty considerably.

"Tom,' says he, 'what d'ye think? Blest if we ain't found a stow-away.' (That's the name you know, sir, as we gives to chaps as hide theirselves aboard outward-bound vessels, and gets carried out unbeknown to everybody.)

"The dickens you have?' says I. 'Who is he, and where did yer find him?"

"Well, we found him stowed away among the casks for'ard; and ten to one we'd never ha' twigged him at all, if the skipper's dog hadn't sniffed him out and begun barkin'. Sich a little mite as he is, too! I could ha' most put him in my baccy-pouch, poor little beggar! but he looks to be a good-plucked un for all that.'

"I didn't wait to hear no more, but up on deck like a skyrocket: and there I did see a sight, and no mistake. Every man-Jack o' the crew, and what few passengers we had aboard, was all in a ring on the fo'c'stle, and in the middle was the fust-mate, lookin' as black as thunder. Right in front of him, lookin' a reg'lar mite among them big fellers, was a little bit o' a lad not ten-year old-ragged as a scarecrow, but with bright, curly hair, and a bonnie little face o' his own, if it hadn't been so woful thin and pale. But, bless yer soul! to see the way that little chap held his head up, and looked about him, you'd ha' thought the whole ship belonged to him. The mate was a great hulkin' black-bearded feller with a look that 'ud ha' frightened a horse, and a voice fit to make one jump through a key-hole; but the young un