Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And there lay the steed with his nostrils all wide, And there lay the rider distorted and pale, And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, FORTY TO TWENTY. A DRAWING-ROOM DRAMA. Tears in your eyes! and why? Because you find You met the man, and though you said no word, The electric language of the universe. You thought him brilliant-ay, he's truly so; 'Tis writ in books, 'tis said by wagging tongues, Our love of approbation is so great, It makes a deal of difference in this world It takes but one, and woman is that one! But when you've longer lived you'll surely learn, And you'll be in your grave, as well as I, An axis of right reason. Weeping still? You fancy, coz, yours is the only heart That has been trifled with? You long for death? Because I'm handsome, rich, endowed with wit, And you, 'mong others, wish to wear my shoes. At your age I loved madly-loved with all I lived for this one man-for him alone; "Defy our will, and you may beg for bread Said they who brought me into this kind world. I loved and so was ready to brave all. Not so the hero of my one romance; His face grew pallid, and his speech confused; To claim me. How think you, coz, he claimed me? In opposition to my family. His grief had forced him to the Continent; He hoped I might be happy, and then signed None born with strong physiques e'er died of love; Raving with fever as girls do in books; I sent back that man's note without remark; Died after our most placid honeymoon, "Never more Let me behold your face!" were my last words; I'm pointed out as fortune's favorite- Come, cousin, dry your tears! You've worshiped at the altar of your dreams. Your eyes in cooling spray. Now you are like I'm hungry. Let us dine. -Appleton's Journal. THE LITTLE STOW-AWAY.* "Ay, ay, sir; they're smart seamen enough, no doubt, them Dalmatians, and reason good, too, seein' they man half the Austrian navy; but they're not got the seasonin' of an Englishman, put it how yer will!" I was standing on the upper deck of the Austrian Lloyd steamer, looking my last upon pyramidal Jaffa, as it rises up in terrace after terrace of stern gray masonry against the lustrous evening sky, with the foam-tipped breakers at its feet. Beside me, with his elbow on the hand-rail, and his short pipe between his teeth, lounged the stalwart chief-engineer, as thorough an Englishman as though he had not spent twothirds of his life abroad. He delighted to get hold of a listener, who-as he phrased it--"has been about a bit." "No; they ain't got an Englishman's seasonin'," he continues, pursuing his criticism of the Dalmatian seamen; "and what's more, they ain't got an Englishman's pluck neither, not when it comes to a real scrape." "Can no one but an Englishman have any pluck, then ?” asked I, laughing. "Well, I won't just go for to say that; o' course a man as is a man 'ull have pluck in him all the world over. I've seed a Frencher tackle a shark to save his messmate; and I've seed a Rooshan stand to his gun arter every man in the battery, barrin' himself, had been blowed all to smash. But, if yer come to that, the pluckiest fellow as ever I seed warn't a man at all!" "What was he, then? a woman?" 66 No, nor that neither; though, mark ye, I don't go for to say as how women ain't got pluck enough too-some on 'em at least. My old 'ooman, now, saved me once from a lubber of a Portigee as was just a-goin' to stick a knife into me, when she cracked his nut with a handspike. (You can hear her spin the yarn yourself, if you likes to pay us a visit when we get to Constantinople.) But this un as I'm a talkin' on was a little lad not much bigger'n Tom Thumb, only with a spirit of his own as ud ha' blowed up a man-o'-war a’most. Would ye like to hear about it?" The same story is told in verse in No. 13, page 68, entitled "The Little Hero." I eagerly assent; and the narrator, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, folds his brawny arms upon the top of the rail, and commences as follows; "'Bout three years ago, afore I got this berth as I'm in now, I was second-engineer aboard a Liverpool steamer bound for New York. There'd been a lot of extra cargo sent down just at the last minute, and we'd had no end of a job stowin' it away, and that ran us late o' startin'; so that, altogether, you may think, the cap'n warn't in the sweetest temper in the world, nor the mate neither; as for the chief-engineer, he was an easy-goin' sort of a chap, as nothing on earth could put out. But on the mornin' of the third day out from Liverpool, he cum down to me in a precious hurry, lookin' as if somethin' had put him out pretty considerably. "Tom,' says he, 'what d'ye think? Blest if we ain't found a stow-away.' (That's the name you know, sir, as we gives to chaps as hide theirselves aboard outward-bound vessels, and gets carried out unbeknown to everybody.) "The dickens you have?' says I. 'Who is he, and where did yer find him? "Well, we found him stowed away among the casks for'ard; and ten to one we'd never ha' twigged him at all, if the skipper's dog hadn't sniffed him out and begun barkin'. Sich a little mite as he is, too! I could ha' most put him in my baccy-pouch, poor little beggar! but he looks to be a good-plucked un for all that.' "I didn't wait to hear no more, but up on deck like a skyrocket: and there I did see a sight, and no mistake. Every man-Jack o' the crew, and what few passengers we had aboard, was all in a ring on the fo'c'stle, and in the middle was the fust-mate, lookin' as black as thunder. Right in front of him, lookin' a reg'lar mite among them big fellers, was a little bit o' a lad not ten-year old-ragged as a scarecrow, but with bright, curly hair, and a bonnie little face o his own, if it hadn't been so woful thin and pale. But, bless yer soul! to see the way that little chap held his head up, and looked about him, you'd ha' thought the whole ship belonged to him. The mate was a great hulkin' black-bearded feller with a look that 'ud ha' frightened a horse, and a voice fit to make one jump through a key-hole; but the young un |