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started down stairs you sent me back for something you had forgotten."

Mr. Mann groaned. “This is too much to bear," he said, " when everybody knows that if I were going to Europe I

ould just rush into the house, put on a clean shirt, grab up my grip sack, and fly, while you would want at least six months for preliminary preparations, and then dawdle around the whole day of starting until every train had left town.".

Well, the upshot of the matter was that the Manns put off their visit to Aurora until the next week, and it was agreed that each one should get himself or herself ready and go down to the train and go, and the one who failed to get ready should be left. The day of the match came around in due time. The train was going at 10.30, and Mr. Mann, after attending to his business, went home at 9.45.

“Now, then,” he shouted,“ only three-quarters of an hour's time. Fly around; a fair field and no favors, you know.”

And away they flew. Mr. Mann bulged into this room and flew through that one, and dived into one closet after another with inconceivable rapidity, chuckling under his · breath all the time to think how cheap Mrs. Mann would feel when he started off alone. He stopped on his way up stairs to pull off his heavy boots to save time. For the same reason he pulled off his coat as he ran through the dining room and hung it on a corner of the silver closet. Then he jerked off his vest as Ire rushed through the hall and tossed it on the hat-rack hook, and by the time he had reached his own room he was ready to plunge into his clean clothes, He pulled out a bureau drawer and began to paw at the things like a Scotch terrier after a rat. “ Eleanor," he shrieked," where are my shirts ?” In

your bureau drawer," calmly replied Mrs. Mann, who was standing before a glass calmly and deliberately coaxing a refractory crimp into place.

"Well, but they ain't!" shouted Mr. Mann, a little annoyed. "I've emptied everything out of the drawer, and there isn't a thing in it I ever saw before.”

Mrs. Mann stepped back a few paces, held her head on one side, and after satisfying herself that the crimp would do, replied: “These things scattered around on the floor are

all mine. Probably you haven't been looking into your own drawer."

“I don't see,” testily observed Mr. Mann, “why you couldn't have put my things out for me when you had nothing else to do all the morning.”

Because,” said Mrs. Mann, setting herself into an additional article of raiment with awful deliberation, “nobody put mine out for me. A fair field and no favors, my dear.

Mr. Mann plunged into his shirt like a bull at a red flag.

“Foul!” he shouted in malicious triumph, “No buttons on the neck !"

Because," said Mrs. Mann, sweetly, after a deliberate stare at the fidgeting, impatient man, during which she buttoned her dress and put eleven pins where they would do the most good, “ because you have got the shirt on wrong side out."

When Mr. Mann slid out of the shirt he began to sweat. He dropped the shirt three times before he got it on, and while it was over his head he heard the clock strike ten. When his head came through he saw Mrs. Mann coaxing the 'ends and bows of her necktie.

" Where are my shirt studs ?” he cried.

Mrs. Mann went out into another room and presently came back with gloves and hat, and saw Mr. Mann emptying all the boxes he could find in and around the bureau. Then she said, “In the shirt you just pulled off.”

Mrs. Mann put on her gloves while Mr. Mann hunted up and down the room for his cuff-buttons.

“Eleanor," he snarled, at last, “I believe you must know where those cuff-buttons are."

“I haven't seen them,” said the lady settling her hat; “ didn't you lay them down on the window sill in the sitting-room last night ?” Mr. Mann remembered, and he went down stairs on the

He stepped on one of his boots and was immediately landed in the hall at the foot of the stairs with neatness and dispatch, attended in the transmission with more bumps than he could count with Webb's Adder, and landed with a bang like the Hell Gate explosion.

“Are you nearly ready, Algernon ?” sweetly asked the wife of his bosom, leaning over the banisters.

run.

The unhappy man groaned. “Can't you throw me down the other boot ?" he asked.

Mrs. Mann, pityingly, kicked it down to him.
“My valise ?” he inquired, as he tugged at the boot.
“ Up in your dressing-room,” she answered.
" Packed ?”

"I do not know; unless you packed it yourself, probably not,” she replied, with her hand on the door knob;“ I had barely time to pack my own."

She was passing out of the gate when the door opened, and he shouted,“ Where in the name of goodness did you put my vest ? It has all my money in it !"

“You threw it on the hat rack," she called. “Good-bye, clear.”

Before she got to the corner of the street she was hailed ; gain.

“ Eleanor! Eleanor! Eleanor Mann! Did you wear off my coat ?”

She paused and turned, after signaling the street car to stop, and cried, “ You threw it in the silver closet." The street car engulfed her graceful form and she was seen

But the neighbors say that they heard Mr. Mann charging up and down the house, rushing out of the front door every now and then, shrieking after the unconscious Mrs. Mann, to know where his hat was, and where she put the valise key, and if she had his clean socks and undershirts, and that there wasn't a linen collar in the house. And when he went away at last, he left the kitchen door, the side door and the front door, all the down stairs windows and the front gate, wide open.

The loungers around the depot were somewhat ainused, just as the train was pulling out of sight down in the yards, to see a flushed, enterprising man, with his hat on sideways, his vest unbuttoned and necktie flying, and his grip sack flapping open and shut like a demented shutter on a March night, and a door key in his hand, dash wildly across the platform and halt in the middle of the track, glaring in dejected, impotent, wrathful mortification at the departing train, and shaking his fist at a pretty woman who was throwing kisses at him from the rear platform of the last car.

no more.

THE DEATH OF HOFER-JAMES C. Mangan.

FROM THE GERMAN OF JULIUS MOSEN.

At Mantua long had lain in chains
The gallant Hofer bound;

But now his day of doom was come

At morn the deep roll of the drum
Resounded o’er the soldiered plains.

O Heaven! with what a deed of dole
The hundred thousand wrongs were crowned

Of trodden-down Tyrol!
With iron-fettered arms and hands
The hero moved along,

His heart was calm, his eye was clear

Death was for traitor slaves to fear!
He oft amid his mountain bands,

Where Inn's dark wintry waters roll,
Had faced it with his battle-song,

The Sandwirth of Tyrol.
Anon he passed the fortress wall,
And heard the wail that broke

From many a brother thrall within.

“Farewell!” he cried. “Soon may you win Your liberty! God shield you all!

Lament not me! I see my goal.
Lament the land that wears the yoke,

Your land and mine, Tyrol!”
So through the files of musketeers
Undauntedly he passed,

And stood within the hollow square.

Well might he glance around him there, And proudly think on by-gone years!

Amid such serfs his bannerol,
Thank God! had never braved the blast

On thy green hills, Tyrol!
They bade him kneel; but he with all
A patriot's truth replied-

“I kneel alone to God on high

As thus I stand so dare I die,
As oft I fought so let me fall!

Farewell”-his breast a moment gwoll
With agony he strove to hiile-

“My Kaiser and Tyrol!" No more emotion he betrayed.

Again he bade farewell

To Francis and the faithful men

Who girt his throne. His hands were ther Unbound for prayer, and thus he prayed:

“God of the Free, receive my soul! And you, slaves, fire!" So bravely fell

Thy foremost man, Tyrol!

MAGDALENA, OR THE SPANISH DUEL

Near the city of Sevilla,

Years and years ago
Dwelt a lady in a villa

Years and years ago ;-
And her hair was black as night,
And her eyes were starry bright;
Olives on her brow were blooming,
Roses red her lips perfuming,
And her step was light and airy
As the tripping of a fairy;
When she spoke, you thought, each minute,
'Twas the trilling of a linnet;
When she sang, you heard a gush
Of full-voiced sweetness like a thrush;
And she struck from the guitar
Ringing music, sweeter far
Than the morning breezes make
Through the lime trees when they shake-
Than the ocean murmuring o'er
Pebbles on the foamy shore.
Orphaned both of sire and mother

Dwelt she in that lonely villa,
Absent now her guardian brother

On a mission from Sevilla. Skills it little now the telling

How I wooed that maiden fair,
Tracked her to her lonely dwelling

And obtained an entrance there.
Ah! that lady of the villa-

And I loved her so,
Near the city of Sevilla,

Years and years ago.
Ay de mi!-Like echoes falling

Sweet and sad and low,
Voices come at night, recalling

Years and years ago.
Once again I'm sitting near thee,

Beautiful and bright;

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