went to his house frequently, until he moved away, and I gradually lost sight of him. I had returned the loan, but it was impossible to repay the good that little act of kindness did me, and I guess Jim Kendrick's little girl here won't want for anything if I can prevent it."

Then turning again to the child, whose bright eyes were wide open now, the engineer said to her:

"I'll take you home with me when we get up to Wayne. My wife will fix you up, and we'll find out whether these Vermont folks want you or not. If they do, Mary or I shall go with you. But if they don't care much about having you, you shall stay with us and be our girl, for we have none of our own. You look very much like your father, God bless him."

Just then the eastern train whistled. "All aboard!" was shouted. Engineer Frank vanished out of the car door and went forward to the engine, wiping his eyes with his coat sleeve, while the conductor and passengers could not suppress the tears this little episode evoked during the twenty minutes' stop at Allen's Junction.

STREET CRIES.-EDWARD EGGLESTON.

LAMENT OF A DISTRACTED CITIZEN.

The Englishman's waked by the lark,
A-singing far up in the sky;

But a damsel with wheel-baritone,

Pitched fearfully high,

Like a lark in the sky,
Wakes me with a screech

Of" Horse Red-dee-ee-eech!"

The milkman, he crows in the morn,

And then the street cackle begins:
Junk-man with cow-bells, and fish-man with horn,
And venders of brushes and pins,
And menders of tubs and of tins.

"Wash-tubs to mend! Tin-ware to mend!"

Oh! who will deliverance send?

Hark! that girl is beginning her screech,—
"Horse-""-tubs" "Ripe peach-"

Then there's " O-ranges,"

""Glass toputin,"

And bagpipes, and peddlers, and shams;

The hand-organizer is mixing his din

With "Strawber-" "Nice sof' clams!"
"Wash-tubs to mend," "Tin-ware to mend!"
Oh! heaven deliverance send!

I'd swear, if it wasn't a sin,

By "-any woo-ood?" "Glass toputin !"

"Ice-cream!" I'm sure that you do!

And madly the whole town is screaming. "Pie-apples!" "Shedders!"

Oysters!" and "Blue

Berries!" with "Hot corn all steaming!"
"Umbrell's to mend !"-My head to mend!
How swiftly I'd like to send
To-somewhere-this rackety crew,
That keep such a cry and a hue

Of "Hot-"
-" "Wash-tubs!" and "Pop-
Corn-balls!"-Oh! corn-bawler stop!

From morning till night the street 's full of hawkers
Of" North River shad!" and "Ba-nan-i-yoes!"
Of men and women and little girl squawkers-

"Ole hats and boots! Ole clo'es!"

Times, Tribune, and Worruld !”

"Here's yer Morning Hurrold!"
What a confounded din

Of" Horse red-" "-to put in!"

"Ripe-" "Oysters," and "Potatoes-""to mend!” Till the watchman's late whistle comes in at the end.

-Scribner's Monthly.

LITTLE GOLDEN-HAIR.-WILL Carleton.

Little Golden-hair was watching, in the window broad and high,

For the coming of her father, who had gone the foe to

fight:

He had left her in the morning, and had told her not to cry But to have a kiss all ready when he came to her at night,

She had wandered, all the day,

In her simple childish way,
And had asked, as time went on,
Where her father could have gone:

She had heard the muskets firing, she had counted every one, Till the number grew so many that it was too great a load; Then the evening fell upon her, clear of sound of shot or gun, And she gazed with wistful waiting down the dusty Concord road.

Little Golden-hair had listened, not a single week before, While the heavy sand was falling on her mother's coffinlid;

And she loved her father better for the loss that then she bore,

And thought of him, and yearned for him, whatever else she did.

So she wondered all the day

What could make her father stay,
And she cried a little too,

As he told her not to do;

And the sun sank slowly downward and went grandly out of sight,

And she had the kiss all ready on his lips to be bestowed; But the shadows made one shadow, and the twilight grew

to night,

And she looked, and looked, and listened, down the dusty Concord road.

Then the night grew light and lighter, and the moon rose full and round,

In the little sad face peering, looking piteously and mild; Still upon the walks of gravel there was heard no welcome

sound,

And no father came there, eager for the kisses of his child.

Long and sadly did she wait,
Listening at the cottage gate;
Then she felt a quick alarm,

Lest he might have come to harm.

With no bonnet but her tresses, no companion but her fears, And no guide except the moonbeams that the pathway dimly showed,

With a little sob of sorrow, quick she threw away her tears, And alone she bravely started down the dusty Concord

road.

And for many a mile she struggled, full of weariness and pain, Calling loudly for her father, that her voice he might not

Till at last, among a number of the wounded and the slain, Was the white face of the soldier, waiting for his daugh ter's kiss.

Softly to his lips she crept,

Not to wake him as he slept;

Then, with her young heart at rest,

Laid her head upon his breast;

And upon the dead face smiling, with the living one near by, All the night a golden streamlet of the moonbeams gently

flowed;

One to live a lonely orphan, one beneath the sod to lie,They found them in the morning on the dusty Concord road.

NIGHTFALL.-W. W. ELLSWORTH.

Alone I stand;

On either hand

In gathering gloom stretch sea and land;
Beneath my feet,

With ceaseless beat,

The waters murmur low and sweet.

Slow falls the night:

The tender light

Of stars grows brighter and more bright.
The lingering ray

Of dying day

Sinks deeper down and fades away.

Now fast and slow

The south winds blow,

And softly whisper, breathing low,

With gentle grace

They kiss my face,

Or fold me in their cool embrace.

Where one pale star,

O'er waters far,

Droops down to touch the harbor bar,

A faint light gleams,

A light that seems

To grow and grow till nature teems

With mellow haze;
And to my gaze

Comes rising, with its rays
No longer dim,

The moon; its rim

In splendor gilds the billowy brim.
I watch it gain

The heavenly plain;

Behind it trails a starry train,—
While low and sweet

The wavelets beat

Their murmuring music at my feet.

Fair night of June!

Yon silver moon

Gleams pale and still. The tender tune
Faint floating, plays

In moonlit lays

A melody of other days.

"Tis sacred ground

A peace profound

Comes o'er my soul. I hear no sound,
Save at my feet

The ceaseless beat

Of waters murmuring low and sweet.

A MYSTERIOUS DUEL.

The following incoherent account of a duel was furnished to HARPER'S WEEK LY, by a correspondent of that journal.

A duel was lately fought in Texas by Alexander Shott and John S. Nott. Nott was shot, and Shott was not. In this case it is better to be Shott than Nott. There was a rumor that Nott was not shot, and Shott avows that he shot Nott, which proves either that the shot Shott shot at Nott was not shot, or that Nott was shot notwithstanding. Circumstantial evidence is not always good. It may be made to appear on trial that the shot Shott shot shot Nott or, as accidents with fire-arms are frequent, it may be possible that the shot Shott shot shot Shott himself, when the whole affair would resolve itself into its original elements, and Shott would be shot, and Nott would be not. We think, however, that the shot Shott shot shot not Shott, but Nott; anyway, it is hard to tell who was shot.