Ah, John! you must remember,

And, John, I can't forget,
When never foot of yours, John,

Was in the ale-house set.
Ah! those were happy times, John;

No quarrels then we knew,
And none were happier in our lane
Than I, dear John, and you.
Then don't go
in to-night.

You will not go! John, John, I mind,
When we were courting, few

Had arm as strong or step as firm

Or cheek as red as you;

But drink has stolen your strength, John,
And paled your cheek to white,

Has tottering made your young firm tread
And bowed your manly height.
You'll not go in to-night?

You'll not go in? Think on the day
That made me, John, your wife;

What pleasant talk that day we had
Of all our future life-

Of how your steady earnings, John,

No wasting should consume,
But weekly some new comfort bring
To deck our happy room!
Then don't go in to-night.

To see us, John, as then we dressed-
So tidy, clean and neat-
Brought out all eyes to follow us

As we went down the street.
Ah! little thought our neighbors then,

And we as little thought,
That ever, John, to rags like these
By drink we should be brought.
You won't go in to-night?

And will you go? If not for me,

Yet for your baby, stay. You know, John, not a taste of food

Has passed my lips to-day.-And tell your father, little one,

'Tis mine your life hangs on.You will not spend the shilling, John? You'll give it him? Come, John, Come home with us to-night.

The fragrance and the beauty of the rose Delight me so slight thought I give the thorn,

And the sweet music of the lark's dear song Stays longer with me than the night-hawk's

cry.

And even in this great throe of pain called Life

I find a rapture linked with each despair Well worth the price of anguish. I detect More good than evil in humanity.

Love lights more fires than hate extinguishes,

And men grow better as the world grows old.

THE

DRINKING.

ELLA WHEELER.

FROM THE GREEK OF ANACREON.

HE thirsty earth soaks up the rain, And drinks, and gapes for drink again; The plants suck in the earth, and are, With constant drinking, fresh and fair; The sea itself, which one would think Should have but little need of drink, Drinks ten thousand rivers up So filled that they o'erflow the cup; The busy sun (and one would guess, By's drunken fiery face, no less) Drinks up the sea; and when he's done, The moon and stars drink They drink and dance by their own light, They drink and revel all the night; Nothing in nature's sober sound But an eternal health goes round. Fill the bowl, then-fill it high; up

up

the sun;

Fill all the glasses there; for why
Should every creature drink but I?
Why, man of morals? Tell me why.

Translation of ABRAHAM COWLEY.

JIM BLUDSO, OF THE PRAIRIE BELLE.

WALL, no, I can't tell whar he lives,

Becase he don't live, you see;
Leastways, he's got out of the habit
Of livin' like you and me.

Whar have you been for the last three year
That you haven't heard folks tell
How Jimmy Bludso passed in his checks
The night of the Prairie Belle?

He weren't no saint-them engineers
Is all pretty much alike—
One wife in Natchez-under-the-Hill
And another one here in Pike;
A keerless man in his talk was Jim,
And an awkward hand in a row,
But he never flunked, and he never lied:
I reckon he never knowed how.

And this was all the religion he had-
To treat his engine well,
Never be passed on the river,
To mind the pilot's bell;
And if ever the Prairie Belle took fire,
A thousand times he swore
He'd hold her nozzle agin the bank

Till the last soul got ashore.

All boats has their day on the Mississip,
And her day come at last.

The Movastar was a better boat.

But the Belle she wouldn't be passed, And so she come tearin' along that nightThe oldest craft on the line

With a nigger squat on her safety-valve

And her furnace crammed, rosin and pine.

The fire bust out as she clared the bar, And burnt a hole in the night;

MONG the beautiful pictures That hang on Memory's wall

Is one of a dim old forest

That seemeth best of all. Not for its gnarled oaks olden,

Dark with the mistletoe; Not for the violets golden

That sprinkle the vale below;

Not for the milk-white lilies

That lean from the fragrant hedge,

Coquetting all day with the sunbeams

And stealing their golden edge; Not for the vines on the upland

Where the bright-red berries rest,

Nor the pinks, nor the pale, sweet cowslip, It seemeth to me the best.

I once had a little brother

With eyes that were dark and deep: In the lap of that old dim forest He lieth in peace asleep. Light as the down of the thistle,

Free as the winds that blow,

We roved there the beautiful summersThe summers of long ago;

But his feet on the hills grew weary,

And, one of the autumn eves,

I made for my little brother

A bed of the yellow leaves.

Sweetly his pale arms folded

My neck in a meek embrace As the light of immortal beauty Silently covered his face;

O fire! we commit his dear reliques to thee, Thou emblem of purity, spotless and free; May his soul, like thy flames, bright and burning arise

And his leaves he gently waves, As he joyously hugs and crawleth round The rich mould of dead men's graves. Creeping where grim Death has been, A rare old plant is the ivy green.

skies.

O water! receive him. Without thy kind

aid

He had parched 'neath the sunbeams or mourned in the shade;

Then take of his body the share which is thine,

For the spirit hath fled from its mouldering shrine.

LUCRETIA MARIA DAVIDSON.

THE IVY GREEN.

OH, a dainty plant is the ivy green,

That creepeth o'er ruins old!

On right choice food are his meals, I ween, In his cell so lone and cold.

The wall must be crumpled, the stone decayed,

To pleasure his dainty whim,

LOVE AND GLORY.

OUNG Henry was as brave a youth

YOUNG

As ever graced a gallant story, And Jane was fair as lovely truth;

She sighed for love, and he for glory.

With her his faith he meant to plight, And told her many a gallant story,

Is a merry meal for him.

Creeping where no life is seen,

A rare old plant is the ivy green.

Called him away from love to glory.

wings,

And a staunch old heart has he;

She died for love, and he for glory.

CHARLES DIBDIN.