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Them and their works in the same class you'll find;
They are the mere wasie-paper of mankind.
Observe the maiden, innocently sweet;
She's fair white paper, an unsullied sheet;
On which the happy man, whom fate ordains,
My write his name, and take her for his pains.
Ove instance more, and only one I'll bring;
'Tis the great man who scorns a little thing,
Whose thoughts, whose deeds, whose maxims are his own,
Formed on the feelings of his heart alone;
True genuine royal paper is his breast;
Of all the kinds most precious, purest, best.

DADDY'S BOY.

In a certain small town on the Mississippi lived a man who made horse-trading a business. He bought up horses for a city market, and was considered pretty good on a trade. One day a long, lean, queer, green-looking specimen of the western country, arrived at the dock with a boat load of horses. He inquired for the horse jockey.

“Daddy sent me down with some horses,” he said, in a half-idiotic tone.

“Who's he?"
' Daddy."
" What do you want for your horses?"
“ Daddy said you could set your price," was the reply.

“Let me go down and look at your liorses,” said Brown, and accordingly they were soon on the boat.

Brown examined the horses, and named the price he would give for this one and that, and the country bumpkin mude no objections, although some of the offers were not more than one-half of the real value of the animal. One of the bystanders gently suggested to the countryman that he was being cheated, but he returned:

“Daddy said Brown would set the price himself.” And so Brown had it all his own way.

At last they came to an animal which did not look much superior to the rest. “I must have more for that anermal," said he,

daddy says he can run some.”

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Run!” said Brown, “that nag can't run worth a cent."
Daddy says so, and daddy knows."

Why, I've got one up at the stables that can beat it all hollow."

“ Guess not,” said the fellow, “ Let's try 'em. I'll bet the whole boat-load of horses on 'em."

Brown smiled.

“I'll stake five thousand dollars against your boat-load," said Brown, winking to the crowd, “and these men,” select. ing two, “shall hold the stakes.”

Brown's tive thousand was entrusted to one, and the other went on board the horse-boat.

One of the crowd started to remonstrate with the poor idiotic fellow, but he only responded :

“Golly! dad told me he could run some, and daddy ought to lose 'em if he was such a tarnal fool to tell me that when he couldn't."

Brown's sleek racer was brought down, and Brown mounted him. The countryman led out his animal and climbed on his back, looking as uncouth and awkward as the horse he proposed to ride.

The word was given, and they started amid the laughter of the crowd. At first Brown was ahead, and it looked as though the poʻir fellow was to be badly beaten, when his horse suddenly plunged forward and the jockey was left far behind. Such going had not been seen in those parts for a long time, and poor Brown was crestfallen, as the cheers of the bystanders fell on his ears.

“I'll take the spondulix,” said the countryman, riding up, "da-l was right. The anermal can get around a little.”

Brown tried to say it was all a joke, but the fellow would have his money.

I

guess I won't trade to-day,” he said, as he put it in his old, rough leather pocket-book.“ I'll go back to daddy.”

In vain Brown tried to induce him to trade, but he pushed off his boat resolutely saying, “I'd best go back and telldaddy."

Brown was completely “sold,” for he knew at once that the green countryman was shrewder than people imagined him, and just came there purposely to win his money from him. Next time he didn't ridicule a horse that “ daddy said could run some."

“NOW !"-FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL.

A night of danger on the sea,

Of sleeplessness and fear;
Wave after wave comes thundering

Against the strong stone pier;
Each with a terrible recoil,

And a grim and gathering might,
As blast on blast comes howling past,
Each wild gust wilder than the last,

All through that awful night.
Well for the ships in the harbor now

Which come with the morning tide,
With unstrained cable, and anchor sure,

How quietly they ride!
Well for the barque that reached at eve,

Though watched with breathless fear;
It was sheltered first ere the tempest burst,

It is safe inside the pier!
But see! a faint and fitful light

Out on the howling sea;
'Tis a vessel that seeks the harbor mouth,

As in death-agony.
Though the strong stone arms are open wide

She has missed the only way.
'Tis all too late, for the storm drives fast,
The mighty waves have swept her past,
And against that sheltering pier have cast

Their wrecked and shattered prey.
Nearer and nearer the barque is borne,

As over the deck they dash,
Where sailors tive are clinging fast
To the sailless stump of the broken mast,

Waiting the final crash.
Is it all too late? is there succor yet

Those perishing men to reach?
Life is so near on the tirm-built pier,

That else must be death to each.

There are daring hearts and powerful arms

And swift and steady feet, And they rush as down to a yawning grave. In the strong recoil of the mightiest wave, Treading that awful path to save

As they trod a homeward street. Over the bowlders and foam they rush

Into the ghastly hollow;
They fling the rope to the heaving wreck.
The aim is sure, and it strikes the deck

As the shouts of quick hope follow. Reached, but not saved; there is more to do,

A trumpet note is heard;
And over the rage and over the roar
Of billowy thunders on the shore

Rings out the guiding word,
There is one chance, and only one,

All can be saved, ---but how? The rope hold fust, but quit the mast

At the trumpet signal, Now !"
There is a moment when the sea

Has spent its furious strength,
A shuddering pause with a sudden twirl,

Gathering force again to hurl
Billow on billow in whirl on wlıirl;

That moment comes at lengto.
With a single shout the "Now!" peals out,

And the answering leap is made.
Well for the simple hearts that just
Loosing the mast with fearless trust

The strange command obeyed ! For the rope is good, and the stout arms pull,

Ere the brief storm lull is o'er;
It is but a swift and blinding sweep,
Through the waters wild and dark and deep,

And the men are safe on shore.
Safe! .hough the fiend-like blast pursue;

Sate! though the waves dash high;
But the ringing cheer that rises clear

Is pierced with a sudden cry! “There are but four drawn up to the shore,

And five were on the deck!" And the straining gaze that conquers gloom, Still traces, drifting on to doom,

One me ni upon the wreck.
Again they chase in sternest race

The far-recoiling wave;
The rope is thrown to the tossing mark,
But reaches not in the wind and dark

The one they strive to save.
Again they rush, and again they fail,

Aguin and yet again :
The storm vrils back defiance loud,
The breakers rear a rampart proud,

And roar, “In vain, in vain!"

Then a giant wave takes up the wreck,

And bears it on its crest;
One moment it hangs quivering there

In horrible arrest.
And the lonely man on the savage sea,

By lightning flash uplit,
Is clinging fast to the broken mast

That he has not dared to quit.
Then the horror of great darkness falls,
While

eyes

flash inward fire,
And over all the roar and dash,
Through that great blackness comes a crash

A token sure and dire.
The wave has burst upon the pier,

The wreck is scattered wide;
Another now will never reach
The dead man lying on the beach,

With the receding tide.

LOVE ON THE HALF SHELL.-PELEG ARKWRIGHT,

A BALLAD OF OYSTER BAY.
I ain't anybody in particular,

And never calc'lated to be;
I'm aware that my views doesn't signify

Except to Belinda and me;
But I'm heavy on openin' oysters-

In regards to them I am free
To remark that for shellin' of Blue Points,

There is few that can lay over me.
Excuse my perfessional blowin',

It isn't the point I would make,
But I'm feelin particular airy,

And uncommonly wide awake;
And I've got to be talkin' about it,

It won't lay quiet, you see;
Which the name of the girl is Belinda,

That's took an affection for me.
It's surprisin'—the fact is surprisin'-.

Just cast your eye over this frame!
Is there anything specially gallus

Which characterizes the same?
As a inodel for makin' wax figgers

I shouldn't make much of a stir :
But I ain't a-goin' to worry,

So long as I'm pleasiiiutur.

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