Gems In Verse

"O Mnry, go nnd cali the cattlo home, An.l cali thecattle home. And cali the cattlo home, Across the sauds of Dee." The Western wind was wild and dank wit foam. And all alone went sho. The western tide crept up along the sand. And o'er and o'er tho sand. And round and round the sand. As far as eye could Bee. The rolling mist carne down and hid the land And never home canie she, "Oh, is lt weed, or flsh, or floating hair- A tress of golden hair, A drowned maiden's hair, Above the nets at sea? Was never salmón yet that shono so fair Among the stakes on Dee." They rowed her in across the rolling foam, The crnel crawling foam, The cruel hungry foam, To her grave besido the sea. But still the l)oatmen hear her cali the cattle home Across the sands of Dee. -Charles Kingsley. Little Jack Two-Sticks. Twasa terrible day, and we spent it flghting tho thlrd división of Hill's command In the Wilderness; then, just as night was fallIng, we iinished the combat hand to hand. Our ranks were thinned, and the men had fasted hour af ter hour of the hard fought day, With canteens empty and knapsaoks lying on the ground in camp when wo marched away. Corporal Hunt had 3tood boside me all throagh the flght os our mea went down- That tall, blue grain in its long swaths lying, the earth where it had been brown. The cleft twlgs dropped from the trees above as, cut by the búllete which whistled there. And wlth labored breathing we clambered forward, muttering 6ometlmes a curse or prayer. Llttle Jack Two-Sticks, the company's drummer- you see we had nicknames amomg the boysWas drumming away at my left, and helping to deaden the shriek of those leaden toys. Jack was a lod, and a iittle fellow about the size oí my youngest girl I had left at home; eyes the same color, and halr that was always trying to curl. "Look at that boy!" the corporal shouted. "Look at that Iittle chap drummlng awayl" And we sort of smiled in oach other's faces. "He takes it as cool as if it were playl" And the powder grimed face of the corporal softened, then 6uddeuly hardened, and down he feil. "What! Hunt, are you hit?" But he made no answer, and I heard in the front the rebel yell. And our colonel shouted, "Charge bayonets, men!" I rushed through the thicket to take my part, Leaving the corporal lying quiet with a minie ball lodged iu his gallant heart. We foaght and we won n-ith the Iittle handful left of our brave old Compauy G. Our colonel dropped, half rose, and shouted, "Follow thein. boys! Not a man stays with me." But after the cannon had stopped their rattle, and after the bullets had ceased their play. And we searched for ourcomrades, I heard the drummiug of Iittle Jack Two-Sticks far away. Queer that Jack wasn't up with the company, as the sharp tattoo of his drum we heard But it suddenly changed to a muffled long roll,' and five of us Btarted without a word And followed the sound through the WUdernoss BhadowB. There, with his hack to a fallen tree. And six of his comrades dead around him, he was beating the long roll for Oompany Q. "Why, Jack, old chap, are you hurt?" we questioned; his jacket was torn and the front was red. I thought of my girl as 1 watched him faintly beating the long roll there to the dead. 'How did it go- who beat?" he whispered. "We saved the day at the last- we won!" Write to mother about it"- his hands feil lifeless, and Iittle Jack Two-Sticks' drumming was done. The night carne down with its blessed quiet, and I said a prayer for my Iittle girl. And the Iittle chap in the darkness sleeping, with hair too stiffened with blood to curl But of all the sights that the Wilderness shadows were trying to hide as the smoke ' clouds fled, ] The saddest of all was that Iittle fellow ] ing the long roll there for the dead. , -Marión Manville. Cowardice. 3owardice? Ves, we are cowards: cowarda from eradle to bier, (V.nd the terror of life grows upon us as we ' grow year by year; 3 Our smiles are but trembling ripples, urged on by a subtide of fear. 1 And henee, or at substance or shadow we start, though we scarce know why. Life seems like a haunted wood, wbere we tremble and crouch and cry, - Beaat, or robber, or ghost- our courage is still to fly. - Alfred Austin. ; Oue Woman. Liet the curtain fall Over her pallThat is all. . She had no glorious name; Hers was the humbier fama To live in solitude, Unwrit, aud there do good. As women do Whose Uves aro true, Whose hearts are wrung, Whose nerves unstrung: Who suffered every ill And yet are still. She watered the years With her tears; Her hands were ever stretched to blos Some one in greater wretchedness, If 6uch there were. She did not ask: She only knew her task And did it; not as any man- Only as God and woman can. Let the curtain fall Over her pallThat is aü. -w. H. Lampton. Children of the Week. Monday's child is fair of face, Tuesday's child is full of grace, Wednesday's ehild is born for woe, Thursday'8 child has far to go, Friday's child is loving and giving, Saturday's child must work for a iivlng, Bu the child that is born on the Sabbath day Is bonnie and happy, and wealthy and gay. -Popular Superstitions. After the Dance. I can see myself in your eyes tonight, I can see myself in j'our eyes; In your eyes of light, in your oyes as bright And blue as the summer akies. We have danced the dance u its close, my sweet. And now, as the dance song dies. And our dancers meet in the moonlit Street, I oan see myself in your eyes. But the dance is done; and, little one. I must go ere the picture files; For soon sweet sleep will come and swoep My image from your eyes. - Eric Gambrell. Good Is Permanent What is excellent. As God lives, is permanent; Hearts are dust; hearts' lovcs remain, Hearts' loves will ir,cet again. Work awl tdircthor- Shoemakers. 1