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For five-and-twenty years, my dear,
The billows lightly skimming,
Our eyes and spirits dimming.
When hope foresaw no morrow,
Drank our first cup of sorrow.
Yet music's in our dwelling,
About our hearthstone swelling,
So glad to call you mother;
Clinging to one another.
Whene'er my arm was weary,
Your words were ever cheery.
With courage sorely shrinking,
That kept our faith from sinking.
Slight change in you revealing;
The silver hairs are stealing.
Retains the fond emotion
Our way out on life's ocean.
THE PALMETTO AND THE PINE.- VIRGINIA L. FRENCH.
They planted them together--our gallant sires of old-Though one was crowned with crystal snow, and one with
solar gold. whey planted them together,-on the world's majestic height; At Saratoga's deathless charge; at Eutaw's stubborn fight; At midnight on the dark redoubt,'mid plunging shotand shell; At noontide, gasping in the crush of battle's bloody swell. With gory hands and reeking brows, amid the mighty fray Which surged and swelled around them on that memorable
When they planted Independence as a symbol and a sign, They struck deep soil, and planted the palmetto and the pine They planted them together,—by the river of the years,Watered with our fathers' hearts' blood, watered with our
mothers' tears; In the strong, rich soil of freedom, with a bounteous benison From their prophet, priest, and pioneer-our father, Wash
ington! Above them floated echoes of the ruin and the wreck, Like“ drums that beat at Louisburg and thundered at Que
bec;" But the old lights sank in darkness as the new stars rose to
shine O'er those emblems of the sections, the palmetto and the
pine. And we'll plant them still together-for 'tis yet the self
same soil Our fathers' valor won for us by victory and toil; On Florida's fair everglades, by bold Ontario's flood, And through them send electric life, as leaps the kindred
blood! For thus it is they taught us who for freedom lived and
died,The Eternal's law of justice must and shall be justified, That God has joined together, by a fiat all divine, The destinies of dwellers 'neath the palm-tree and the pine.
God plant them still together! Let them flourish side by side In the halls of our Centennial, mailed in more than marble With kindly deeds and noble names we'll grave them o'er
and o'er With brave historic legends of the glorious days of yore; While the clear, exultant chorus, rising from united bands, The echo of our triumph peals to earth's remotest lands; While “ faith, fraternity, and love" shall joyfully entwine Around our chosen emblems, the palmetto and the pine. " Together!” shouts Niagara, his thunder-toned decree;
Together!" echo back the waves upon the Mexic Sea; “Together!" sing the sylvan hills where old Atlantic roars;
Together!” boom the breakers on the wild Pacific shores; " Together!” cry the people. And “ together," it shall be, An everlasting charter-bond forever for the free! Of liberty the signet-seal, the one eternal sign, Be those united emblems—the palmetto and the pine.
AUNTY DOLEFUL'S VISIT.-MARY KYLE DALLAS.
How do you do, Cornelia ? I heard you were sick, and I stepped in to cheer you up a little. My friends often say, “It's such a comfort to see you, Aunty Doleful. You have such a flow of conversation, and are so lively.” Besides, I said to myself, as I came up the stairs, “ Perhaps it's the last time I'll erer see Cornelia Jane alive.”
You don't mean to die yet, eh? Well, now, how do you know? You can't tell. You think you are getting better; but there was poor Mrs. Jones sitting up, and every one saying how smart she was, and all of a sudden she was taken with spasms in the heart, and went off like a flash. But you must be careful, and not get anxious or excited. Keep quite calm, and don't fret about anything. Of course, things can't go on just as if you were down stairs; and I wondered whether you knew your little Billy was sailing about in a tub on the millpond, and that your little Sammy was letting your little Jimmy down from the veranda roof in a clothes-basket.
Gracious goodness! what's the matter? I guess Providence 'll take care of 'em. Don't look so. You thought Bridget was watching them? Well, no, she isn't. I saw her talking to a man at the gate. He looked to me like a burglar. No doubt she let him take the impression of the door-key in wax, and then he'll get in and murder you all. There was a family at Kobble Hill all killed last week for fifty dollars. Now, don't fidget so; it will be bad for the baby.
Poor little dear! How singular it is, to be sure, that you can't tell whether a child is blind, or deaf and dumb, or a cripple at that age. It might be all, and you'd never know it.
Most of them that have their senses make bad use of them though : that ought to be your comfort, if it does turn out to have anything dreadful the matter with it. And more don't live a year. I saw a baby's funeral down the street as I came along.
How is Mr. Kobble? Well, but finds it warm in town, eh ? Well, I should think he would. They are dropping down by hundreds there with sun-stroke. You must prepare your mind to have him brought home any day. Anyhow, a trip on these railroad trains is just risking your life every time you take one. Back and forth every day as he is, it's just trifling with danger.
Dear! dear! now to think what dreadful things hang over us all the time! Dear! dear!
Scarlet fever has broken out in the village, Cornelia. Lit. tle Isaac Potter has it, and I saw your Jimmy playing with him last Saturday.
Well, I must be going now. I've got another sick friend, and I shan't think my duty done unless I cheer her up a little before I sleep. Good-by. How pale you look, Cornelia. I don't believe you have a good doctor. Do send him away and try some one else. You don't look so well as you did when I came in. But if anything happens, send for me at once. If I can't do anything else, I can cheer you up a little.
CUSTER'S LAST CHARGE.-FREDERICK WHITTAKER.
Dead! Is it possible? He, the bold rider,
Custer, our hero, the first in the fight, Charming the bullets of yore to fly wider,
Shunning our battle-king's ringlets of light! Dead! our young chieftain, and dead all forsaken!
No one to tell us the way of his fall!
Never, not even to victory's call !
No, may my death be like his when I die!
Falling with brave men, and face to the sky,
Fame is eternal, and better than all;
Glory can hallow the fragments that fall.
All the night long he had been on their track,
Wild for a charge that should never give back. There on the hill-top he halted and saw them, -
Lodges all loosened and ready to fly; Hurrying scouts with the ticings to awe them,
Told of his coming before he was nigh.
All the wide valley was full of their forces,
Gathered to cover the lodges' retreat, — Warriors running in haste to their horses,
Thousands of enemies close to his feet! Down in the valleys the ages had hollowed,
There lay the Sitting Bull's camp for a prey ! Numbers! What recked he? What recked those who fol
Into the battle-line steady and full;
Into the hordes of the Old Sitting Bull !
Wild Horse's braves, and the rest of their crew, Shrank from that charge like a herd from a lion,
Then closed around the great hell of wild Sioux. Right to their centre he charged, and then, facing
Hark to those yells ? and around them,oh, see! Over the hill-tops the devils come racing,
Coming as fast as the waves of the sea!
No hope of victory, no ray of light,
Brooding in death over Custer's last fight.
Begging those torturing fiends for his life?
Flinched like a coward or fled from the strife? No, by the blood of our Custer, no quailing!
There in the midst of the devils they close, Hemmed in by thousands, but ever assailing,
Fighting like tigers, all bayed amid foes ! Thicker and thicker the bullets came singing;
Down go the horses and riders and all;
Circling like buzzards awaiting their fall.
Savage eyes gleaming from forests of mane;
War-painted warriors charging amain. Backward again and again they were driven,
Shrinking to close with the lost little band; Never a cap that had worn the bright Seven
Bowed till its wearer was dead on the strand. Closer and closer the death-circle growing,
Even the leader's voice, clarion clear,