66

AUNT JEMIMA'S COURTSHIP.

Waal, girls-if you must know-reckon I must tell ye. Waal, 'twas in the winter time, and father and I were sitting alone in the kitchen. We wur sitting thar sort o' quiet like, when father sez, sez he to me, "Jemima!" And I sez, sez I, What, sir?" And he sez, sez he, “ Wa'n't that a rap at the door?" and I sez, sez I, "No, sir." Bimeby, father sez to me again, sez he, " Jemima !" And I sez, sez I, "What sir?" and he sez, sez he, "Are you sure?" and I sez, sez I," No, sir." So I went to the door, and opened it, and sure enough there stood-a man. Waal, he came in and sat down by father, and father and he talked about almost everything you could think of; they talked about the farm, they talked about the crops, and they talked about politics, and they talked about all other ticks.

Bimeby father, father sez to me, sez he, "Jemima!" And I sez, sez I," What, sir?" And he sez, "Can't we have some cider?" And I sez, sez I, “I suppose so." So I went down in the cellar and brought up a pitcher of cider, and I handed some cider to father, and then I handed some to the man; and father he drinks, and the man he drinks, and father he drinks, the man he drinks till they drink it all up. After awhile father sez to me, sez he, "Jemima!" And I sez, sez I," What, sir?" And he sez, sez he, " Ain't it most time for me to be thinking about going to bed?" And I sez, sez I, “Indeed, you are the best judge of that yourself, sir," "Waal," he sez, sez he, “ Jemima, bring me my dressinggown and slippers." And he put them on and arter awhile he went to bed.

And there sat that man; and bimeby he began a-hitching his chair up toward mine-oh my! I was all in a flutter. And then he sez, sez he, " Jemima?" And I sez, sez I, "What, sir?" And he sez, sez he, “Will you have me?" And I sez, sez I, "No, sir!" for I was most scared to death. Waal, there we sat, and arter awhile, will ye believe me, he began backing his chair closer and closer to mine, and sez he, "Jemima?" And I sez, sez I, "What, sir?" And he sez, sez he, “Will ye have me?" And I sez, sez I, "No, sir!" Waal, by this time he had his arm around my waist, and I hadn't

the heart to take it away 'cause the tears was a-rollin' down his cheeks, and he sez, sez he, "Jemima?" And I sez, sez I, "What, sir?" And he sez, sez he, "For the third and last time, I shan't ask ye agin, will ye have me?" And I sez, sez I," Yes, sir,"-fur I didn't know what else to say.

THE CHARGE BY THE FORD.-THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH

Eighty and nine with their captain,
Rode on the enemy's track,.
Rode in the gray of the morning-
Nine of the ninety came back.
Slow rose the mist from the river,
Lighter each moment the way;
Careless and tearless and fearless
Galloped they on to the fray.
Singing in tune, how the scabbards
Loud on the stirrup-irons rang,
Clinked as the men rose in saddle,
Fell, as they sank, with a clang.
What is it moves by the river,
Jaded, and weary, and weak?
Gray-backs-a cross on their banner-
Yonder the foe whom they seek.
Silence! They see not, they hear not,
Tarrying there by the marge:
Forward! Draw sabre! Trot! Gallop!
Charge! like a hurricane, charge!

Ah! 'twas a man-trap infernal—
Fire like the deep pit of hell!
Volley on volley to meet them,
Mixed with the gray rebel's yell.

Ninety had ridden to battle,
Tracing the enemy's track-
Ninety had ridden to battle;
Nine of the ninety came back.
Honor the name of the ninety;
Honor the heroes who came
Scathless from five hundred muskets,
Safe from the lead-bearing flame.
Eighty and one of the troopers
Lie on the field of the slain-
Lie on the red field of honor-
Honor the nine who remain !

Cold are the dead there, and gory,
There where their life-blood was spilt;
Back come the living, each sabre
Red from the point to the hilt.

Up with three cheers and a tiger!
Let the flags wave as they come!
Give them the blare of the trumpet!
Give them the roll of the drum!

A NOCTURNAL SKETCH.-THOMAS HOOD.

Even is come; and from the dark park, hark!
The signal of the setting sun,-one gun!
And six is sounding from the chime, prime time
To go and see the Drury-Lane Dane slain,
Or hear Othello's jealous doubt spout out;
Or Macbeth raving at that shade-made blade,
Denying to his frantic clutch much touch;
Or else to see Ducrow with wide stride, ride
Four horses, as no other man can span;
Or in the small Olympic pit sit, split
Laughing at Liston, while you quiz his phiz.

Anon night comes, and with her wings brings things
Such as, with his poetic tongue Young sung;
The gas up-blazes with its bright white light;
And paralytic watchmen prowl, howl, growl
About the streets and take up Pall-Mall Sal,
Who, hasting to her nightly jobs, robs fobs.
Now thieves, to enter for your cash, smash, crash,
Past drowsy Charley in a deep sleep, creep,-
But frightened by policeman B. 3, flee-

And while they're going, whisper low, "No go!"

Now puss, while folks are in their beds, treads leads,
And sleepers waking, grumble, "Drat that cat!"
Who in the gutter caterwauls, squalls, mauls
Some feline foe, and screams in shrill ill-will.

Now Bulls of Bashan, of a prize size, rise

In childish dreams, and with a roar, gore poor
Georgy, or Charley, or Billy, willy-nilly;

But nurse-maid, in a nightmare rest, chest-pressed,
Dreameth of one of her old flames, James Games,

And that she hears-what faith is man's!--Ann's ba ins
And his, from Rev. Mr. Rice,-twice, thrice;

White ribbons flourish,-and a stout shout out,

That upward goes, shows Rose knows those beaux' woes!

THE MEN TO MAKE A STATE.-GEORGE W. DOANE.

The men to make a state must be intelligent men. I do not mean that they must know that two and two make four; or, that six per cent. a year is half per cent. a month. I take a wider and a higher range. I limit myself to no mere utilitarian intelligence. This has its place. And this will come almost unsought. The contact of the rough and rugged world will force men to it in self-defence. The lust of worldly gain will drag men to it for self-aggrandizement. But men so made will never make a state. The intelligence which that demands, will take a wider and a higher range. Its study will be man. It will make history its chief experience. It will read hearts. It will know men. It will first know itself. What else can govern men? Who else can know the men to govern men? The right of suffrage is a fearful thing. It calls for wisdom, and discretion, and intelligence, of no ordinary standard. It takes in, at every exercise, the interests of all the nation. Its results reach forward through time into eternity. Its discharge must be accounted for among the dread responsibilities of the great day of judgment. Who will go to it blindly? Who will go to it passionately? Who will go to it, as a sycophant, a not the men to

tool, a slave? How many do! These are make a state.

The men to make a state must be honest men. I do not mean men that would never steal. I do not mean men that would scorn to cheat in making change. I mean men with a single face. I mean men with a single eye. I mean men with a single tongue. I mean men that consider always what is right; and do it at whatever cost. I mean men who can dine, like Andrew Marvel, on a neck of mutton; and whom, therefore, no king on earth can buy. Men that are in the market for the highest bidder; men that make politics their trade, and look to office for a living; men that will crawl where they cannot climb;-these are not the men to make a state.

The men to make a state must be brave men. I do not mean the men that pick a quarrel. I do not mean the men that carry dirks. I do not mean the men that call them

selves hard names-as Bouncers, Killers, and the like. I mean the men that walk with open face and unprotected breast. I mean the men that do, but do not talk. I mean the men that dare to stand alone. I mean the men that are to-day where they were yesterday, and will be there to-morrow. I mean the men that can stand still and take the storm. I mean the men that are afraid to kill, but not afraid to die. The man that calls hard names, and uses threats; the man that stabs, in secret, with his tongue, or with his pen; the man that moves a mob to deeds of violence and self-destruction; the man that freely offers his last drop of blood, but never sheds the first;-these are not the men to make a state.

The men to make a state must be religious men. States are from God. States are dependent upon God. States are accountable to God. To leave God out of states, is to be atheists. I do not mean that men must cant. I do not mean that men must wear long faces. I do not mean that men must talk of conscience, while they take your spoons. One has shrewdly called hypocrisy the tribute which vice pays to virtue. These masks and vizors, in like manner, are the forced concession which a moral nature makes to him whom, at the same time, it dishonors. I speak of men who feel and own a God. I speak of men who feel and own their sins. I speak of men who think the cross no shame. I speak of men who have it in their hearts as well as on their brows. The men that own no future, the men that trample on the Bible, the men that never pray, are not the men to make a state.

The men to make a state are made by faith. A man that has no faith, is so much flesh. His heart, a muscle ; nothing more. He has no past, for reverence; no future, for reliance. He lives, so does a clam. Both die. Such men can never make a state. There must be faith, which furnishes the fulcrum Archimedes could not find, for the long lever that should move the world. There must be faith to look through clouds and storms up to the sun that shines as cheerily on high as on creation's morn. There must be faith that can lay hold on heaven, and let the earth swing from beneath it, if God will. There must be faith that can afford to sink the present in the future; and let