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It's a funny world, but I've got just as good a right here as anybody.
Happy thought! I've made a new resolution. It is to be just as good and studious and promising as all the people seemed to think I had been, after that notice appeared. Then if anything should happen, folks wouldn't have to be so two-sided about it.
THE OLD HOMESTEAD.
WELCOME, ye pleasant dales and hills
Where dream-like passed my early days,
That sing unconscious hymns of praise;
Embathed in autumn's mellow sheen,
And slept on mossy carpets green.
About the porch and orchard trees;
Lulled by the murmuring of the bees;
To upland field and wooded hill ;
Looks down upon the homestead still,
I hear the humming of the wheel
Strange music of the days gone by-
Once more I see the spindle fly.
How then I wondered at the thread
That narrowed from the snowy wool, Much more to see the pieces wed,
And wind upon the whirling spool! I see the garret once again,
With rafter, beam, and oaken floor; I hear the pattering of the rain
As summer clouds go drifting o'er. The little window toward the west
Still keeps its webs and buzzing flies, And from this cozy childhood nest,
Jack's bean stalk reaches to the skies. I see the circle gathered round
The open fire-place glowing bright, While birchen sticks with crackling sound
Send forth a rich and ruddy light; The window-sill is piled with sleet,
The well-sweep creaks before the blast, But warm hearts make the contrast sweet,
Sheltered from storm, secure and fast. O loved ones of the long ago,
Whose memories hang in golden frames,
names, Come back, as in that Christmas night,
And fill the vacant chairs of mirth l Ah me! the dream is all too bright, And ashes lie
upon the hearth. Below the wood, beside the spring,
Two little children are at play,
Sings in their hearts the livelong day;
The acorns patter at their feet,
The squirrel chatters 'neath the trees, And life and love are all complete
They hold Aladdin's lamp and keys.
And, sister, now my children come
To find the water just as cool,
To see our pictures in the pool.
The fountain gurgles o'er with joy That, after years full three times ten,
It finds its little girl and boy. No other spring in all the world
Is half so clear and cool and bright,
Reflect for me such golden light.
I kneel beside it now as then,
I kiss its cooling lips again.
Its life is one unending dream;
But, like the limpid meadow stream, It seems to sympathize with youth,
Just as the river does with age, And ever whispers—sweetest truth Is written on life's title page.
WALLACE BRUCE JUPITER AND TEN.
RS. CHUB was rich and portly,
Mrs. Chub was very grand, Mrs. Chub was always reckoned
A lady in the land.
You shall see her marble mansion
In a very stately square, Mr. C. knows what it cost him,
But that's neither here nor there.
Mrs. Chub was so sagacious,
Such a patron of the arts,
That she won all foreign hearts.
Mrs. Chub was always talking,
When she went away from home, Of a most prodigious painting
Which had just arrived from Rome.
“ Such a treasure,” she insisted,
“ One might never see again!" “ What's the subject ?" we inquired,
“ It is Jupiter and Ten!"
“ Ten what ?" we blandly asked her,
For the knowledge we did lack. “ Ah! that I cannot tell you,
But the name is on the back.
“ There it stands in printed letters.
Come to-morrow, gentlemen,
Our fine Jupiter and Ten."
When Mrs. Chub departed,
Our brains we all did rack,
For the name was on the back.
So we begged a great Professor
To lay aside his pen,
Touching “ Jupiter and Ten.”
And we pondered well the subject,
And our Lempriere we turned,
But we could not, though we burned !
But when we saw the picture,—
Oh, Mrs. Chub! oh, fie! oh!
JAMES T. FIELDS.
THE TWENTY-SECOND OF FEBRUARY.
LE is the February sky,
And brief the mid-day's sunny hours;
For the sweet time of leaves and flowen.