Gems In Verse

Palé, withered hands, that more than fourscore jears Had HTought ior other; soothed the hurt of tears, Rocked children's eradles, eeased the fever's smart, Dropped balm of lov In man y an ach ing heart; Now, Btirless folded, llke wan rose leaves pressed, Above the snow and silence of her breast: In mate appeal they told of labora done. And well earned rest that cama at set of sun. From the worn brow the lines of care had ewept, As if an angel's kiss, the while she slept. Had smoothed the cobweb wrinkles qnite away. And given back the peace of chlldhood's day. And on the lips the falnt smile almost said: "None knows life's secret but the happy dead." So grazing where she lay we knew that pain And parting could not cleave her soul again. And we wero sure that those who saw hei last In that dim vista which we cali the past, Who never knew her old and laid aside, Remembering best the maiden and the bride. Had sprung to greet her with the olden speech, The dear sweet ñames no later lore can teaeh; And welcome home they cried, and grasped her hands; So dwelleth the mother in the best of lands, - Indianapolis News. Like His MotHer Used to Itlake." "I was born in lndiany," says astranger, Iank and slim, As US tellers in the restaurant were kind o' guyin Mm, And Uncle Jake was slidin him another punkin pie And au extra cup of coffee, with a twinkle in his eye. "I was born in Endiany - more'n forty years ugo. And I hain't been back in twenty- and I'tn workin baok'ards slow; But I've et in every restaurant 'twist here and Santa Fe, And I want to state this coffee tastos like gettin borne to me. Pour out another, daddy," says the feller, warmin up, A-speakin 'crost a saucerful, as uncle took his cup"When I deed your sic;n out yonder," ho went on to l'ncle Jake, H 'Come in and get some cnflee like your mother used to mako.' 1 thooebl f tav old mother, of the Posey county farm. And me a little kid ag'in a-hangin in her arm As she Het the pot a-bilin, Lroke the eggs and poured 'eui in"- And the feller kind o' halted, with a tremble iu bis chin. And Uncle Jake ha fetched the feller's coffee back and stood As solemu for a minute as an undertaker wnuld: Then hu sort o' tnrnsd and tiptoed to'rds the bttcheo door, and aexi Here comee his old wife out with him a-rubbin of her specs- And she rushes for the stransier, and she hollers out, "It's himl Thank liod. e've mt't him cominl Don't you kninv your mothor, JimV" And the feller as he jrabbed her, says, "You bet 1 hain't forgot"But wipin of bis eyes, says he, "Your coffeo'a mighty hot." -James Whitcomb Riley. Fate. Two shall be bom the whole wide world apart, And speak in different tongues, aud have no thought Eaeh of the other's being. and no hoed; And these o'er unknown seas to unknown landa Shall cruss, escapins wreek, defying death; And all uncons'jionsly sfaape every act And bend each wandering step to thisone end: I That one day, out of darkness, they shall meet And read life's nieaniíií? In cach other's eyes. I And two shall walk somt narrow way of life So nearly side by side, that should one turn Ever so little space to the left or rigbt They needs must stand ackuowledged face to face. And yet, with wistfuleyes they never meet, With groping hands that never clasp, and lipa ' Calling in vain to ears that never near, They seek each other all their weary days And die unsatiafied- and this is fate! - Susan Marr Spalding. When I Go Home. WL en 1 go home, when I go home to him! I like to ])ieture to myselí his way Of greeting me, and what his lips shall say. And mine reply, and will his eyes be dim With mist of joy tears? Will my coming be As dear a boon to him as he has dreamed? Will all the glad bewiklerment that seenied ] So sweet in fancy find its verity When 1 come home? Or wiil eome fancied change Of speech, or look, or mien the one transform Who used to wear for him a namelesscharm, Tempering his joy with uhadows new and btrange? Withshadows darkling for a little space. And then, oh, sweet beyond imagining, The cadenee, half bob, half song, will ring With the old muüic, hallowing the place. My glad heart has no room in it for doubt. The morning glories clambering at the door, With leaves and blooms and tendrils leaning i o'er, Flecking the sunshine, cannot keep it out. I love to fancy the felicities That shall be mine upon that day of days, The old endearing carnes, and tricks of phrase, And smiles that haunted all my reveries. If rain or sunshine be, or gloom or gleam, The day of my return, eweet opulence Of gladness flooding mood and circumstance Shall smile across the uiists with roseate beam. When I go home again! When 1 go home! My feet have strayed upon these journeyings, But my heart never; all my lunging clings To the old haunts; always my fancies come Back to the old abiding place to rest, Howe'erl wander uudei alíensele?'; And find forever there their paradise, Love's very self answering my heart's behest. - Hosaline E. Jones. At Last. He had wooed, but never had asked consent Of this maid to be hls wife, And 6üe had begun to think he meant To court her all hls lif o. They went to a restaurant one night. And when opening soda there, Through his awkwardness the cork took flight, Nearly hittiiiK the maiden fair. Bat she did not shrink as the missile near To her ivory forehead passed; With a rippling laugh, she cried, "Oh, dear, Has something popped at last?" -New York Press. Li f e 's Story. First the baby flew away; Then the child was gone; Then the maiden could not stay, The woman hastened on; Then the gray haired pilgrim passed. All the story told at last. -Augusta Mooro. Secoixl Thoughtn. Is it so true that second thoughts are best? Not flrst, and third, which are a riper first? Too ripel too latei They come too late for use. Ahí love, there surely lives in man and beast Somethinu divine to wam them of their foes! - Tennyson.