THE ADVERTISEMENT ANSWERED.-FRANK M. THORN.

Good mornin' til yez, yer honor! And are yez the gintlemon
As advertised, in the paper, fur an active, intilligent b'y?
Y' are? Thin I've brought him along wid me,—a raal, fine
sprig iv a wan :—

As likely a b'y iv his age, sur, as iver ye'd wish til empl'y.
Av coorse I'm his mother! Yez can see his
resimblance til me,

That's him.

Fur ivery wan iv his faytures, and mine, are alike as two paze,

Barrin' wan iv his hivenly eyes, which he lost in a bit iv a spree

Wid Hooligan's b'y, which intinded to larrup me Teddy wid aize;

And his taythe, which hung out on his lip, like a pair iv big, shinin', twin pearls,

Till wan iv thim taythe was removed by the fut iv a cow he was tazin;

And his hair, that we niver cu'd comb, along iv bewhilderin' curls,

So we kape it cropp'd short to save combin', and that makes our intercoorse plazin.

And is it rid-headed, ye call him? Belike he is foxy, is Ted; And goold-colored hair is becomin' til thim that's complicted wid blonde !

But who cares fur color? Sure, contints out-vally the rest iv the head!

And Ted has a head full iv contints, as lively as t'hrout in a pond!

Good timpered? Sure niver a bett'her.-The paceablest, quietest lamb

As lives the whole lin❜th iv our st'hrate, where the b'ys is

that kane fur a row

That Ted has to fight iv'ry day, though he'd quarrel no more than a clam.

Faith, thim b'ys 'ud provoke the swate angels, in hiven, to fight onyhow!

Thim Hooligan b'ys is that d'hirty, they have to be washed wanst a wake

Faith, Hooligan finds it convanient to live down ferninst the canall

Where the wat'her fur scrubbin' the mud off his child'hers is not far til sake.

But Teddy is allus that nate that he niver nades washin' at all!

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Can he rade? Sure me Ted has the makin' iv a beautiful

rader, indade,

And lairn't all his lett'hers, but twinty, in three months' attindance at school:

But the mast'her got mad at me Teddy, becase iv a joke that was played

Wid a pin, that persuaded the mast'her quite suddint to rise from his stool.

Teddy niver cu'd plaze the school-mast'her wid ony iv thim playful t'hricks;

So, wid his edication unfinished, Ted found it convanient to lave.

But, barrin' the-larnin', I'll match him, fur kaneness, ferninst ony six,

In butt'herin' paple wid blarney, and playin' nate t'hricks to desave.

Thim Hooligan b'ys is all raders, but Teddy jist skins 'em alive:

Wid their marbles, and paynuts, and pennies, iv'ry wan iv his pockets he'll fill

By the turn iv his wrist, ur such tactics as Teddy knows how til cont'hrive:

They'd gladly t'hrade off their book-larnin' fur Teddy's suparior skill !

Politeness comes aisy til Ted, fur he's had me to tache him the thrick

Iv bowin' and scrapin' and spakin' to show paple proper respict.

Spake up til the gintlemon, Teddy! Whist! Aft wid yer cap first, ye stick!

He's shapish a t'hrifle, yer honor; he's allus been brought that strict.

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Come! Spake up, and show yer foine bradin! Och! Hear that! "How are yez, Owld Moke?"

Arrah, millia murther! Did iver yez hear jist the aqual iv that?

"How are yez, Owld Moke?" says he! Ha! Ha! Sure, yer honor, he manes it in joke!

He's the playfullest b'y! Faith, it's laughin' at Teddy that makes me so fat!

Honest? Troth, he is that! He's that honest, he was niver tuk by the perlace,

Barrin' wanst that Owld Hooligan swore that Teddy had stole his b'y's knife

Wid niver a blade. And the jidge he remairked, wid contimpt, 'twas the t'hriflinest case

To bod'her a dignified Coort wid, he iver had known in his life!

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Yez can thrust him wid onything. Honest! Does he luk like a b'y that 'ud stale?

Jist luk in the swate, open face iv him, barrin' the eye wid the wink:

Och! Teddy!! Phat ugly black st'hrame is it runnin' down there by yer hale!

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Murtheration! Yer honor, me Teddy has spilt yer fine bottle iv ink!!

Phat? How kem the ink in his pocket? I'm thinkin' he borry'd it, sur:

And yez saw him pick up yer pen-howlder and stick it inside iv his slaive!

And yez think that Ted mint til purline 'em!! Ah, wirra! The likes iv that slur

Will d'hrive me,—poor, tinder, lone widdy,—wid sorrow down intil me grave!

Bad cess til yez, Teddy, ye spalpeen! Why c'u'dn't yez howld on, the day

Ye thafe iv the world!-widout breakin' the heart iv me? No. Yez must stale!

I'll tache yez a t'hrick, ye rid-headed, pilferin', gimlet-eyed flay!-

Ye freckle-faced, impident bla'guard!-Och! whin we git home yez 'll squale!

-Bric-a-Brac in Scribner's Monthly.

THE GAMBLER'S WIFE.-R. COATES.

Dark is the night! How dark! No light, no fire!
Cold, on the hearth, the last faint sparks expire!
Shivering, she watches by the cradle side,

For him, who pledged her love-last year a bride!
"Hark! "Tis his footstep. No!-'tis past!-'tis gone!"
Tick! Tick!"How wearily the time crawls on!
Why should he leave me thus? He once was kind!
And I believed 'twould last!--How mad!----How blind!
"Rest thee, my babe!-Rest on!- 'Tis hunger's cry
Sleep!-For there is no food!-The fount is dry!
Famine and cold their wearying work have done,
My heart must break! And thou!" The clock strikes one,
"Hush! 'tis the dice-box! Yes, he's there! he's there!
For this!-for this he leaves me to despair!

Leaves love, leaves truth, his wife, his child! for what?
The wanton's smile-the villain-and the sot!

"Yet I'll not curse him. No! 'tis all in vain! Tis long to wait, but sure he'll come again! And I could starve, and bless him, but for you,

My child!—his child! Oh, fiend!" The clock strikes two.
"Hark! How the sign-board creaks! The blast howls by.
Moan! moan! A dirge swells through the cloudy sky.
Ha! 'tis his knock! he comes!-he comes once more!"
'Tis but the lattice flaps. Thy hope is o'er.

“Can he desert us thus? He knows I stay,
Night after night, in loneliness, to pray
For his return-and yet he sees no tear!
No! no! It cannot be. He will be here!

"Nestle more closely, dear one, to my heart!

Thou 'rt cold! Thou'rt freezing! But we will not part! Husband!-I die!-Father!-It is not he!

O God! protect my child!" The clock strikes three.

They're gone, they're gone! the glimmering spark hath fled! The wife and child are numbered with the dead.

On the cold earth, outstretched in solemn rest,

The babe lay frozen on its mother's breast;

The gambler came at last-but all was o'er

Dread silence reigned around ;--the clock struck four!

THE LEAP OF ROUSHAN BEG.-H. W. LONGFELLOW.

Mounted on Kyrat strong and fleet,
His chestnut steed with four white feet,
Roushan Beg, called Kurroglou,

Son of the road and bandit chief,
Seeking refuge and relief,

Up the mountain pathway flew.

Such was Kyrat's wondrous speed,
Never yet could any steed,

Reach the dust-cloud in his course.
More than maiden, more than wife,
More than gold and next to life

Roushan the Robber loved his horse.

In the land that lies beyond

Erzeroum and Trebizond,

Garden-girt his fortress stood!

Plundered khan, or caravan

Journeying north from Koordistan,

Gave him wealth and wine and food.

Seven hundred and fourscore
Men at arms his livery wore,

Did his bidding night and day.
Now, through regions all unknown,
He was wandering, lost, alone,
Seeking without guide his way.

Suddenly the pathway ends,
Sheer the precipice descends,

Loud the torrent roars unseen;
Thirty feet from side to side
Yawns the chasm; on air must ride
He who crosses this ravine.

Following close in his pursuit,
At the precipice's foot,

Reyhan the Arab of Orfah
Halted with his hundred men,
Shouting upward from the glen,
"La Illáh illa Alláh !"

Gently Roushan Beg caressed
Kyrat's forehead, neck, and breast;
Kissed him upon both his eyes;
Sang to him in his wild way,
As upon the topmost spray
Sings a bird before it flies.

O my Kyrat, O my steed,
Round and slender as a reed,
Carry me this peril through!
Satin housings shall be thine,
Shoes of gold, O Kyrat mine,

O thou soul of Kurroglou!
"Soft thy skin as silken skein,
Soft as woman's hair thy mane,
Tender are thine eyes and true;
All thy hoofs like ivory shine,
Polished bright; Oh, life of mine,

Leap, and rescue Kurroglou!

Kyrat, then, the strong and fleet,
Drew together his four white feet,
Paused a moment on the verge,
Measured with his eye the space,
And into the air's embrace

Leaped as leaps the ocean surge.
As the ocean surge o'er sand
Bears a swimmer safe to land,
Kyrat safe his rider bore;