SIXTY YEARS AGO.

Out of print's the old, old story,
Self holds universal sway!"
Then he wept, as Edwin whispered,
"Angelina, name the day."

27

UNKNOWN.

LINES.

A young woman who sang in the choir
Fell asleep, then awoke screaming fhoir;
The committee it met,

Their opinions were set,

And now a new singer they'll hoir.

UNKNOWN.

SIXTY YEARS AGO.

Oh, sixty years ago to a day,

Three maidens lived-so the grandmothers say

In a farm-house, under an old elm-tree,

And they were as busy as maids could be,
And as fair as busy-the grandmothers say—
Oh, sixty years ago to a day.

For Molly could spin, and Dolly could bake,
And Polly had all the butter to make,
And never an idle moment had they

To spend with the village girls at play;

For Molly must spin, and Dolly must bake,
And Polly had all the butter to make.

Those were good old times-so the grandmothers say

Oh, sixty years ago to a day.

When the bread was baked in the proper way,
And butter was sweet as new-mown hay,
And yarn was yarn-so the grandmothers say—
Oh, sixty years ago to a day.

Now, who were those maidens so clever and quick,
Who never were idle or naughty or sick,
Who were busy and healthy and handsome and

gay,

Oh, sixty years ago to a day?

I think you will not have to go very far
Before you find out who these maidens are:
Your grandmother's one, and my grandmother's

one,

And, in fact, every grandmother under the sun
Was one of the Mollys or Dollys or Pollys
Who did such wonderful things they say,
Oh, sixty years ago to a day.

UNKNOWN.

THE EARLY RISER.

29

29

THE EARLY RISER.

(To the memory of Dr. Watts.)

Of all the people I despise,

And loathe and reprobate,

The worst are those who early rise,
And fear they sleep too late :

Who rise up with the silly sun,
Like stupid cows and sheep,
Who go to bed when day is done,
And waste their night in sleep.

Who wake their neighbors with a yell
Just in their sweetest doze;
Who have malicious joy and fell
To break up their repose.

The time which gives them most delight
Is dank and dampsome morn;
The warm and lamp-lit hours of night
They look upon with scorn.

Early they seek their downy beds,

And early they arise,

No glint of reason lights their heads
To make them good or wise.

A torment to the world they live,
And unlamented die,-

But, ah, what pleasure do those give
Who long in slumber lie!

The morning hours of sweet repose

Improve their nature so

That life for them serenely goes;
They no discomfort know.

Beloved by all their fellow-men,
They pass along life's way,
And general is the sorrow when
Their lives aside they lay.

Then, little girl or little boy,
Be not too swift to rise;
For morning slumber is a joy,
Like those of Paradise.

ANONYMOUS.

SYMPHONIES IN FUR.

Lady Sealskin.

A dainty young damsel is Pearl,
Beclad in the softest of sealskin :
I'm told her papa is an Earl;-

Just watch her most gracefully twirl,