Gems In Verse

Oh, hour of honrs, the most blessed upon earth, Blesaeil hour of our dinners! The land of his birth; The face of his flrst love; the bilis that he owes The twaddle of friends and the venom of foes; The sermón he heard when to ohurch he last went; The money he borrowed, the money he spent- All of these things a man, 1 believe, may forget. And not be the worse for forgetting; but yet Kever, never, oh, never] earth's luckiestsinner Ilath unpunished forgotten the hour of his dinnerl Indigestión, that conscience of every bad 6tomach, Shall relentlessly etisw and pnrane hün with sotne ache Or sorae pain; and trouble, remorseless, his best ease. As the Furies once troubled the sleepof Orestes. - Owen Meredith. It Doesn't Cost Money. It doesn't cost money, as many suppose, To have a good time on the earth; The best of its pleasures are free unto those Who know how to value their worth. The sweetest of music the birds to us sing, The loveliest iiowers grow wild, Theflnest of drinksgushesout of the spring- All free to man, woman and child. No money can purchase. no artist can paint Suc-h pictui-esas nature supplies Forever, all over, to sinnor and saint Who use tn advantage their eyes. Kind words and Klad looksand smiles cheery and brave Cost noLhins- no. nothing al all; And yet all the wealth Monte Cristo could save Can make no such pteasures befall. To basfc in the sunshine, lo breathe the pura air, Honest toil, the enjoyment of hcalth, Sweet slumbor refreshing- these pleasurea we sha re Without any portion of wealth. Communion with friends that are tried, truc and strong, To love and be loved for love's sake- In fact, all that makcs a life happy and long Are free to whoever wil] takè. It doesn't cost nioTiey to have a yood time. And that is the reason. alas! Why many who inight have enjoyment sublime Their livcs in such miscry pass. It doesn't cost noney to havo a sood time; The world's bost enjoytiientrt aro free; Bntthoxe whoflnd pleaBureiD follyand crime Will not with these true words agree. Hold Hand. Jim and Jen that Is yoxi a-q Over in the garden tiiero Lookin how the onions be And how the pea vines'U boar. And tomatera. Jen and Jim- Swingin holil o' bands they go - Her a little thing, nnd liim Six fooi high er bo, They've been married a good spell- An't so youncr; haiirt oever been Bandsome; nor dou't do so well As they might. Had to dig in Grittin thu mortfcage off their lot; Live real close, fer Jim an't worth Overmuch. And yit they'vegot Jest a heaven on earth. I don't know how 'tis; mi'jht say ■Cause they h&á it rongh and bad; Both ccmie up 'most any way- Jen she had a drlnkín dad; His fam'ly want hi concern. Jim was Ie ft an orphan 'fore He was growed, and bad to earn Whai he et and ere. Vit 'tan't that. Thèy eort o' smilo On tliis liei-e Ufe, and they wring Comfort out on't all t he while; Comfort, out o everythint;- Out o' nothiti; seems as tho They din"t have no troubles, nor Don't even begin to know What folks ha.s 'era tor. Nor thal an't the huil; there's more. He thinka she's a reg'ïar saint. And she sets powerful siure Longo1 him. It'8 love. Í haiu't Kever see the beat. Yit she Knows him. and he understands Her. That's Jim and Jen yon see Sivingin hold o' hands. -Emma A. Opper. Another Kiijíageuieiit. She was rosy and piquant and slender; Her beauty was wine to my hcart As she leaned o'er the banislors dreaming, Wliile watching the last guests depart. Her roses -ero wlltecl and fragrant. And mider her sortie-du-bal Her shoulders gleamed white 'mid their lares In the soft mellow light of the hall. Her soft eyes grew wistful and tender. And suddeuly treinbled a tear On her drooped lashes: purely it glistened. And I kissed hei - the ravishing dear! Ohl you needn't look quite so astounded, I'm entitled to that sort of thing, For she gavo me her heart there that inBtant, And that tear Tve had set in a ring. -Marie Jureau. If We Enew. If we knew the baby flngers Pressed against the window pane Would be cold and stiff tomorrow- Never trouble us ajiain: Would the bright eyea of our darling Catch the frown upon our brow? Would the prints of rosy fíngers Vei na then as they do now? Ah, these little ice cold flngers, How they point our memories back To the hasty words and actions Strewn along our backward trackl How those little hands remind us. As in snowy tarace they lie, Not to scatter thorus - bnt roses- For our reaping by and byl Strange we never prize the mosic Till the sweet voioed bird bas flown; Strange that we should slight the violeta Till the lovely fluwers are gone; Strange that summur skies and sunshine Never seem one-half so fair As when winter's tjnowy pinions Shake their white down in the airl Lips from which the seal of silence None but God can roll away, Never blossomed in such beauty As adorns the mouth today; And sweet words thatfreightourmemory With their beautiful perfume. Come to us in sweeter accents Through the portals of the tomb. Let us gather np the sunbeams Lying all along our path: Let us keep the wheat and roses. Casting out the thorns and chafiT; Let us find our sweetest comfort In the Messing of tnday; With a patiënt hand removing All the briers from our way. -May RUey Smith. October. Oetober turned my maple's leaves to gold; The most are ijone now: here and there one lingers; Boon these will slip from out the twigs' weak hold, Like coins between a dyint; miser's flngers. -T. B. Aldrich. The End in Light. The longest night has its end in light. And for glooin comes the rich adorning Of the earth and skies, as the starlight dies In the smile of the radiant morning.