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mis feel,

Since God is marching on."

ounded forth the trumpet that shall never 1 retreat;

fting out the hearts of men before His gment-seat:

ift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, feet!

Our God is marching on.

auty of the lilies Christ was born across sea,

lory in His bosom that transfigures you

me:

ed to make men holy, let us die to make free,

While God is marching on.

THE FINE LADY

-ER Heart is set on folly,

An amber gathering straws; counts each poor occurrence, eeds not the heavenly laws. Pity her!

has a little beauty,

nd she flaunts it in the day,

le the selfish wrinkles, spreading, eal all its charm away.

Pity her!

has a little money,

id she flings it everywhere;

a gewgaw on her bosom,

Is a tinsel in her hair.

Pity her!

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Te harmless household drudges,
Your draggled daily wear
And horny palms of labor
A softer heart may bear.

Pity her!

Ye steadfast ones, whose burthens
Weigh valorous shoulders down,

With hands that cannot idle,

And brows that will not frown.
Pity her!

Ye saints, whose thoughts are folded
As graciously to rest

As a dove's stainless pinions

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Upon her guileless breast,

T

Pity her!

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But most, ye helpful angels
That send distress and work,
Hot task and sweating forehead,
To heal man's idle irk,

"Ge

The

Pity her!

"Ma

"Th

A DREAM

WOMAN came, wearing a veil;

Her features were burning and pale;
At the door of the shrine doth she kneel,

d waileth out, bowing her head,
e men of remembrance and dread,
Exorcise the pangs that I feel.

Ther

Whi

TH

Co

"I

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feather the whirlwind lifts high, -e not wilder or weaker than I, Since Love makes my bosom his prey.

saints, I fall down at your feet; ou Virgin, so piteous to greet, Reach hither the calm of your hands; statues of power and of art,

t your marble weight lie on my heart, Hold my madness with merciful bands." priest takes his candle and book the pity or scorn in his look,

ad chants the dull Mass through his teeth;
the penitent, clasping his knees,
,"Vain as the sough of the breeze
re thy words to the anguish of death."

priest, with reproval and frown,
the listless attendant reach down
e water that sprinkles from sin.
r water is water," she cries:
further its foolishness flies,

he fiercer the flames burn within."

thee hence to the cell and the scourge!" >riest in his anger doth urge,

r the fire of the stake thou shalt prove, ntaining with blasphemous tongue t the mass-book and censer, high swung, annot cast out the demon of Love."

the Highest stept down from his place, the depths of his wonderful face thrill of compassion did move:

e hide thee," he cried, "in this breast: mmon the weary to rest;

ith love I exorcise thy love."

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THOMAS HUGHES

IAS HUGHES, novelist, born at Donnington Berkshire, England, in 1823; died at Brigh1896. He was educated at Rugby, during dmastership of the famous Dr. Arnold, and el College, Oxford. His school experiences ed later in his "Tom Brown's School Days," 'om Brown at Oxford." He was admitted to , and for a number of years was a member iament. In addition to the works mentioned he wrote "A Layman's Faith," "Alfred the "The Manliness of Christ," and others. It as if Hughes, more than almost any other had a thorough understanding of boy

RUGBY AND

FOOTBALL

(From "Tom Brown's School Days")

D so here's Rugby, sir, at last, and you'll
be in plenty of time for dinner at the school-
as I tell'd you," said the old guard, pulling
n out of its case, and tootle-tooing away;
ne coachman shook up his horses, and carried
Long the side of the school close, round Dead-
Corner, past the school gates, and down the
treet to the Spread Eagle; the wheelers in a
g trot, and leaders cantering, in a style
would not have disgraced 'Cherry Bob,"
Eng, stamping, tearing, swearing Billy Har-
or any other of the old coaching heroes.
s heart beat quick as he passed the great
fields or close, with its noble elms, in which
games of football were going on, and tried
in at once the long line of gray buildings,

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he great flag was lazily waving from the round tower. And he began already to be t being a Rugby boy, as he passed the ates, with the oriel-window above, and saw standing there, looking as if the town beo them, and nodding in a familiar manner Dachman, as if any one of them would be al to getting on the box and working the vn street as well as he.

the young heroes, however, ran out from and scrambled up behind; where, having imself and nodded to the guard with "How " he turned short round to Tom, and, after im over for a minute, began:—

- you fellow, is your name Brown?"

said Tom, in considerable astonishment; ever to have lighted on some one already ed to know him.

thought so; you know my old aunt, Miss lives somewhere down your way in Berkhe wrote to me that you were coming toasked me to give you a lift."

is somewhat inclined to resent the patronof his new friend-a boy of just about his t and age, but gifted with the most transoolness and assurance, which Tom felt to ating and hard to bear, but couldn't for f him help admiring and envying—especiyoung my lord begins hectoring two or ; loafing fellows, halfporter, half stablea strong touch of the blackguard, and in arranges with one of them, nicknamed carry Tom's luggage up to the schoolsixpence.

eark'ee, Cooey, it must be up in ten minmore jobs from me. Come along, Brown."

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