Gems In Verse

V11 you give me yuur hand, my pretty tnaid?" "My haud goes with my heart," sho said. "Will you give me your hoarl, then, pretty maid?" "M heart, yoa know, la my love," 8he said. " 'Tia your love 1 crave, my pretty maid." "Love can't be given away," she said. She saw a toar in the eye of the youth, So hu thought she'd tull him the simple truth. "Love is like the wind, don't you know? Fur wlieru it lisleth there it will go. "I cannot tame it to give it away, 1 I try to send it, it will not stay." "Then I will steal it, my pretty maid," " Tis the only way you'U ;r.i t." she said. -Anna R. Gazzam. Jim BlacUo. (OTTHE PRAIRIE HELLE.) Wall, nol 1 can't teil whar he lives, Because be don't live, you Hee; Leastways, lie's got out of the habit Of livia like you and me. Whar have yon buen for the lasttbxee yea That you haven 't heard folks teil How Jinimy Bludso passed in bis checka The night oí the Prairie Bulle? He weren't no saint- them engineera Ib all pretty much alike- One wife in Natchez-under-the-Hill And auother oue here, in Pike; A kt'less man in his talk was Jim, Anffan awkward hand in a row, But he oever flunked. and he nevar lied- I reckon he never k'nowed how. And this was all the religión he had- To treat hi.s eugine welk Never be pa- ed on the river, To niind the uilot's bell; And if ever the Prairie Belle took flre- A thousand times he swore, He'd hold her uo.zle agin the bank Till the last soul f?ot ashore. All bimts has their day on the -Misbissip, And her day luune at last - The Movastar was a better boat, But the Belle she wimltln't be passed. And so she come tearin aloiiK that niiiht- The oldest craft on the lineWith a niítger squat on her safety valve. And her furnaoe crammed, rosin and pine. The flre bust ont as she clared the bar. And burut a hole in the night. And qufck m a flash she turned, and made For that iller bank on the right. There as runnin and cursin, but Jim yelled out. Over all the infernal roar, "I'll hold her nozzle agin the bank Till the last galoot's ashore." Through the hot, black lireath of theburnin boat Jim Bludso's voice was heard. And they all had trust in his cussedness. And knowed he would keep hi.s word. And, sure's you're born, they all got off Afore the smokestacks feil- And Bludso's ghost went up alone In the smoke of the Prairie Belle. He weren't no saint- but at jedgment I'd run my chance with Jim, 'Ijongside of some pious gentlemen That wouldn't shock hands with him. He seeti his (iuty, a lcad sure thing- And wenl for it thar mul then And (,'hnst alnt a-goinw to be too hard Ou a luim that died tor men. -John Hay. Tlie Sweetest Things of Earth. What are the sweete-st thinga of earth? Lips that c-n praiae a rival's worth; A fragram iose thal uides no thorn; Riches of gold untouuhed by scorn. A happy little ehild asleep: Eyea tbat cao smile thoutjh they may weep A brother's theer, a fatlier's praise; The minstrelsy of sximnn;r Uays. A heart where anger never Imrns; A giít that looka for no retuiTis. Wrong' overthrow: pain's swlft release; Dark fooisteps guideii into peaoa. The light of love in lover' eyes; Age that is young as well as wise; An honest hand that needs no ward; A lile with right in true accord. A hope bud waxing into joy; A happiuess without alloy: A mother'8 kiss; a baby's mirth- These are the s-sveetest things of earth. - Emma C. Dowd. It Is Well. Yes, it is well! The eveningshaclowslengthen; Home's golden ate 6hine3 on our ravished sight; And though the tender ties we try to strengthen üreak oue by ouo- at evening time "tis light. 'Tis welll The way was often dull and weary; The spirit fainted oft beneath its load; No sunshinu caine irom skies all gray and dreary. And yet our feet were bound to tread that road. Tis well that not again our hearts shallshiver Beneath oíd sorrows once so bard to bear; rhat not again beside death's darksome river Shall we deplore the good, the loved, the fair. NTo more, with teara wrought from deep inner anguish, Shall we bewail the dear hopea crushed and gone; STo more need we in doubt or fear to languish, So far the day is past, the iouruev doue. As voyagers, by flerce winds beat and broken. Come into port beneath tho calmer sky; So we, still bearing on our brovvs the token Of tempest past, draw to our haven nigh. As sweeter air comes from the shores immortal, Inviting homeward at the day's decline, Almost we see where from the open portal Fair forma stand beckoning with their smiles divine. 'Tis well! The earth, with all her myriad voices. Has lost the power our senses to entiirall. We hear, above the tumult and the noises. Soft tones of musio, like an angel's cali. Tis well, O friendsl We should not turn- retracing The long, vain jears, nor cali our lost youth back; Gladly, with spirits braced, the futuro facing. We leave behind the dusty, foouvorn track. -(-'hanibera1 Journal. Tlie O11 Tramp. A' oíd tramp slep' In our stable wunst, An the Raggedy Man hecaught An ronst hiin up anü chaned liim ofif Clean out throniíh our back lotl An the old tramp hollered back an said: "You're a purCu maní jnu airl With a pair of ejes liko two fried eggs, An a no8e like a Bartlutt pearl" -James Whitcomb Riley. Too Late. He carne too late! Neglect had tried Her constancy too long; Her love had yielded to her pride And the deep sense of wrong. She scorned the offering of a heart Whloh lingered on lts way Till it eould no delight impart. Nor spread one cheering ray. -Elizabeth Bogart. They Are Slaves. They are slaves who fear to speak For the fallen and the weak; They are slaves who wül not choose Hatred, Bcofflng and abuso, Rather than in sllence shrink From the trnth they needs must thlnk: They are sla ves who daro not be In the right with two or three. -James Russell Lowell. Short sighted- Little people. Filis in his time - The dentist.