Gems In Verse

"I send yon here an arttcle thai's bound to m&ke a h! ." "lncloaed pleaae And a ]oke or two lo epice your pace with i." "1 send a linl: pni-m which will please beyond a doubt: Pleasc mal] me tweDty copies of the paper Wlit'll it's Ollt." "I liked your editorial un "Times Are Growing Better,' And so I have indorscd i in a ritteen column letter." "My wife'a iici'ii dead a month, and though ray paparé going on Voii'vi: Dever sald a word, and folkscan't tell whlch way Bhe'a gone." ■Tve liocii in business half ft year (your duo bilis I return yon). And yet you've iiever wrote me up- so stop my paper, durn yon!" -Atlanta Constitutlon. rain.'. Wealth, Ufe, Daath. Wluit is tam. .- 'Tis the su gleam on the monntaln Bpreading brightly ere it Bles, Tía il"' bubble of the fountaln EUslng llghtly ore It dies; Or, if here and there a hero He remembered tbrough the years, Yel to him the gai is zero; Death bath Btilled his hopea and fears. Yol what danger men will daré If but only in the air May be beard somu eager mention of their name; Though they hear it sol themselves, 'tis much the same. What s wealth? 'Tis a ralnbow, siill receding As the pantlng fool pannes, Or a toy that, yonth unhoeding, Bot ka the readieat way to lose; But the wio man keepa duo moasure, Nelther out of breath nor base: Ho but holds in trust bis treasure For the welfare of the race. Yet what crimes tome men will dare But to galn their atender share In some profit, though with loss of name or heakh. What is life? 'Tis the earthly honr f trial For a life that's but begun, When tho prize of aelf deuial May be QUickly lost or won; 'Tis the bour when love may bourgeon To an everlasting fluwer, Or when Iusts their victima urge on To doly inmortal power. Vet how Ughtly men ignore Ail the future holds in store. Spending brief but golden moments all in si rife, Or in suiciilal niailness grasp the knife. What is death? Past its dark, mystorious portal Human eye may Liever roam; Vet the hope still springs inmortal That it leads the wanderer home. Oh, the bliss that lies before us When the secret shall be known. And the vast angelic chorus Sounds the hymn before the thronel What is fauke or wealth or life? Past are praises, fortune, strife; AU but love, that lives forever, cast beneath Wken the good and faithful servant takes the the wreath. - London Academy. The Model Husbaud. Most wive8 will end their story with, "Ah, well, men are but human!" I long to teil the secret of A truly happy woman. Through all the suushine lighted years, Liveil now in retrospection, My husband's word brought never tears Nor caused a sad reflection. Whate'er the burdens of the day, Unflinching, calm and steady, To bear bis part- the larger half- I ahvays Hnd him ready. Housecleaniug season brings no frown, No sarcasm pointed keenly; Through carpets up and tacks head down lle makos his way serenely. Our eveninga pass in converse aweet Or quiet contemplaUoii We never diaagree except To "keep up couversation." And dewy mora of radiant June, Fair moonliglit of September, April with bird and hrook atune, Btern, pitileaa December- Each seems to my adoring eyes Sume new grace to discover, For be, unchaming through the years. Is still my tender lover. So liffc no shadow holds, though we Have reached the side that's shady. My husband? Oh, a dream is he. And I'm a maiden ladyl - Eleanor M. Denny. The M.-rit of the H.-..1. The paiuter patata a picture of tho summer sky of blue, But he canuot steal the rainbow lights f rora the smallest drop of dew; But the paintcr makes his picture from the Master Artist'sown, And he takes his brightest coloring where Ilia faintest tints have shown. The poet writesa poem in a dreara of summer hours, But he canuol steal the sweetness from the humblest of the lloweVs; So the poet writes a poem, and bccause his cyos are bealed Sees not a glimmer of the glory which he fain woulil have revealed. The sinKor sinys a song in the golden summer tide, But the wild bird of the morning into sweeter notes can gilde; So the sioger sin's a song and knoweth not its lay Is the silence of the echoes that in heavendied away. ThuBitaeema the tirelean werker who ne'er taketh needed reat, And the hand that giveth liberally and giveth of its best, Each gives the widow's mite to the world of want and Deed, And the love which prompta the givlng is the mcrit of the deed. - Manchester (N. H.l Union. liiHluveiuent. All constraint Except what wisdom laya on evil men kIs evil; hurts the facuhies, impedes Their progress in the road of science; blinda The slght of discovery and hegets In those that taffer t a lordld miud. Bestial, a meager intellect, unñt To be the tenant of man's noble form. - Cowper. The Baby. ItV a Mvoet and tiny treasure, A torment and a teaaej It's an autocrat and anarchist - Two awful thinga to please; It's a rest and peace disturber, With little laughing ways; It's a wailing human uight alarm And terror of your days. . -Voice. Vin, Not Slze. Size counts for naught in imet, sage or dunce; Vim Diakes the hero in his rank or rhymes; Old Samson brought the house down only once, What Doctor Holmes has dono a thousand times. Gauge your own caliber, O man alive- If Samson, ten feet high, or poet, flve. - .lairies B. Wiggin. The best revengo is love; diaarm Anger with smiles; heal wounds with balm; Give water to thy thiraty foe. The sandal tree, as lf to prove How sweet to conquer bate by love. Perfumes tho ax that laya it low. MotU-prooi- Tho ruin they leave bohiiul.