"i Met A Traveler On The Road."

I met a traveVr on the road, His face was wrinkled, wnn, and sad ; HÍ8 head was gTay - bnt not with years; His eycs were tired - but not with tears ; His back wbb bent beneath a load Too bií for one who&e sinews had Boen wYenched by labor overmueh, - Or waehe withered in the olutch Of his preat soul pone snnely mad! His face was wan, hia feet were weury, Yet heunresting went with such A etrange, stül, patiënt míen,- a look Set forward in the enipty air, As ha were readsnf? aa anseen book. Hi awt'ul, fixed smilc did tear My soul with pity. I oGuld bear That better than what nest I knew, When, sorrow-dvawn, I caine more near; For, suddenly, I seoraed to hear The hroken echo of a sonj? iSuiifr in the sunliiilit far ;ivay. His lips were parted, but unmovod By wordfi. He sang as dreamers do, And not. as if he heard and loved The thing he It was not sad - But, O my God, that memory blotl The livelong' night, the livelonp; day, It comes and will not be forgat, That traveler's anguisfaed srnging cheery ! He stooil beside the stilly brook. - Nor drank the water, ixor bathed his brow, Nor tV.mi Kia Bnct the burden shook. He stoorl, and yet he did not rest; Hiehand lay dead in hia dead breaat; His eyoe climbetl up h aimlesa quest, Then close did to that mirror bow - And, Lookmg down, I sawf in pïace Oí his, my own wan, wrinkled face ! -Scribner's for August.