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Its bridges running to and fro,
O'er which the white-winged angels go,

Bearing the holy dead to heaven.
She touched a bridge of flowers,-those feet,
So light they did not bend the bells
Of the celestial asphodels !
They fell like dew upon the flowers,
Then all the air grew strangely sweet-
And thus came dainty Babie Bell

Into this world of ours.
She came and brought delicious May.

The swallows built beneath the eaves;

Like sunlight in and out the leaves,
The robins went the livelong day;
The lily swung its noiseless bell,

And o'er the porch the trembling vine

Seemed bursting with its veins of wine. How sweetly, softly, twilight fell! O, earth was full of singing-birds, And opening spring-tide flowers, When the dainty Babie Bell

Came to this world of ours !

O Babie, dainty Babie Bell,
How fair she grew from day to day!
What woman-nature filled her eyes,
What poetry within them lay!
Those deep and tender twilight eyes,

So full of meaning, pure and bright,

As if she yet stood in the light
Of those oped gates of Paradise.
And so we loved her more and more;
Ah, never in our hearts before

Was love so lovely born:
We felt we had a link between
This real world and that unseen-

The land beyond the morn.
And for the love of those dear eyes,
For love of her whom God led forth
(The mother's being ceased on earth
When Babie came from Paradise), —
For love of Him who smote our lives,

And woke the chords of joy and pain, We said, Dear Christ!-our hearts bent down

Like violets after rain.
And now the orchards, which were white
And red with blossoms when she came,
Were rich in autumn's mellow prime.
The clustered apples burnt like flame,

The soft-cheeked peaches blushed and fell,
The ivory chestnut burst its shell,
The grapes hung purpling in the grange;
And time wrought just as rich a change

In little Babie Bell.
Her lissome form more perfect grew,

And in her features we could trace,

In softened curves, her mother's face! Her angel-nature ripened too. We thought her lovely when she came But she was holy, saintly now:Around her pale, angelic brow We saw a slender ring of fame. God's hand had taken away the seal

That held the portals of her speech; And oft she said a few strange words

Whose meaning lay beyond our reach.
She never was a child to us,
We never held her being's key,
We could not teach her holy things;

She was Christ's self in purity.
It came upon us by degrees:
We saw its shadow ere it fell,
The knowledge that our God had sent
His messenger for Babie Bell.
We shuddered with unlanguaged pain,
And all our hopes were changed to fears,
And all our thoughts ran into tears

Like sunshine into rain.
We cried aloud in our belief,
"O, smite us gently, gently, God!

Teach us to bend and kiss the rod,
And perfect grow through grief."
Ah, how we loved her, God can tell;
Her heart was folded deep in ours.

Our hearts are broken, Babie Bell!
At last he came, the messenger,

The messenger from unseen lands: And what did dainty Babie Bell? She only crossed her little hands, She only looked more meek and fair! We parted back her silken hair, We wove the roses round her brow,White buds, the summer's drifted snow,Wrapt her from head to foot in flowers; And then went dainty Babie Bell

Out of this world of ours!

GRANDMOTHER'S SPECTACLES.

T. DE WITT TALMAGE. But sometimes these optical instruments get old and dim. Grandmother's pair had done good work in their day. They were large and round, so that when she saw a thing she saw it. There was a crack across the upper part of the glass, for many a baby had made them a plaything, and all the grandchildren had at some time tried them on. They had sometimes been so dimmed with tears that she had to take them off and wipe them on her apron before she could see through them at all. Her “second sight” had now come, and she would often let her glasses slip down, and then look over the top of them while she read. Grandmother was pleased at this return of her vision. Getting along so weil without them, she often lost her spectacles. Sometimes they would lie for weeks untouched on the shelf in the red morocco case, the flap unlifted. She could now look off upon the hills, which for thirty years she had not been able to see from the piazza. Those were mistaken who thought she had no poetry in her soul. You could see it in the way she put her hand under the chin of a primrose, or cultured the geranium. Sitting on the piazza one evening, in her rockingchair, she saw a ladder of cloud set up against the sky, and thought how easy it would be for a spirit to climb it. She saw in the deep glow of the sunset a chariot of fire, drawn by horses of fire, and wondered who rode in it. She saw a vapor floating thinly away, as though it were a wing ascending, and Grandınother muttered in a low tone: “A vapor that appeareth for a little season, and then vanisheth away.” She saw a hill higher than any she had ever seen before on the horizon, and on the top of it a king's castle. The motion of the rocking-chair became slighter and slighter, until it stopped. The spectacles fell out of her lap. A child, hearing it, ran to pick them up, and cried: “Grandmother, what is the matter?” She answered not. She never spake again. Second-sight had come! Her vision had grown better and better. What she could not see now was not worth seeing. Not now through a glass darkly! Grandmother had no more need of spectacles!

THE COUNTRY DANCE.-JOE Jot, JR.

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* Take your places.” Goodness gracious,

Don't go like a flock of geese! “Honors all.” Keziah Muggins,

Take your hat off, if you please. “Forward four and back again.”

Jerry, round the other way!
Balance all.” Jake, how you topple,

Have you lost your balance, say?
“ Lemonade all.” Bless me, Hiram,

Don't kick up your heels so high! "Swing your partners.” John and Sally,

Stop your kissin' on the sly. “Right and left all round.” Not that way,

You are getting mixed up there. "Sashay all.” Your cornfield gaiters

Make more noise than I can bear. “Forward two and back again."

Jim, don't throw yourself away! “Dos-a-dos." Don't get excited:

Keep your coats on, boys, I pray. “Gentlemen balance to the right.”

There, you all are jumping wrong! “ Half lemonade.” Uriah Williams,

Don't you think you're going it strong? “Hands all round.” Now mind your eye there,

Jake, you have never danced before. " Ladies change." Oh, Polly Simmons,

There you go upon the floor! “ Forward four and back again,"–

Stop, until I rosin my bow. “ Ladies balance to the right.”

Caleb Short, don't stub your toe. “Gentlemen balance to the left."

Snap, there goes my little string. “ Balance to your partners.” So,

Hez, quit pinching Polly King. “Lemonade all.” It's getting hot here.

Cale, you dance like climbing up-stairs. " Ladies— There, my E striny's busted,

"Swing your partners to their chairs."

THE PRIDE OF BATTERY B.-F. H. GASSAWAY.

and wan;

South Mountain towered upon our right, far off the river lay,
And over on the wooded height we held their lines at bay.
At last the muttering guns were still; the day died slow
At last the gunners' pipes did fill, the sergeant's yarns began.
When, is the wind a moment blew aside the fragrant flood
Our brierwoods raised, within our view a little maiden stood.
A tiny tot of six or seven, from tireside fresh she seemed.
(Of such a little one in heaven one soldier often dreamed.)
And as we stared, her little hand went to her curly head
In grave salute.

"And who are you?at length the sergeant said. “And where's your home?" he growled again. She lisped

out, “ Who is me? Why, don't you know? I'm little Jane, the Pride of Bat

tery B. My home? Why, that was burned away, and pa and ma

are dead; And so I ride the guns all day along with Sergeant Ned. And I've a drum that's not a toy, a cap with feathers, too; And I march beside the drummer boy on Sundays at review. But now our 'bacca's all give out, the men can't have their

smoke, And so they're cross-why, even Ned won't play with me

and joke. And the big colonel said to-day-I hate to hear him swearHe'd give a leg for a good pipe like the Yank had over there. And so I thought when beat the drum, and the big guns

were still, I'd creep beneath the tent and come out here across the hill And beg, good Mister Yankee men, you'd give me some

'Lone Jack.' Please do: when we get some again, I'll surely bring it back. Indeed I will, for Ned-says he,-if I do what I say, I'll be a general yet, maybe, and ride a prancing bay.” We brimmed her tiny apron o'er; you should have heard her

laugh As each man from his scanty store shook out a generous half. To kiss the little mouth stooped down a score of grimy men, Until the sergeant's husky voice said, “ 'Tention squad !

and then We gave her escort, till good-night the pretty waif we bid, And watched her todule out of sight--or else 'twas tears

that hid Her tiny form-nor turned about a man, nor spoke a word, Till after awhile a far, hoarse shout upon the wind we heard!

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