"And well," quoth he, "I know, for truth, Their pangs must be extremeWoe, woe, unutterable woe

Who spill life's sacred stream!

For why? Methought last night I wrought A murder in a dream!

"One that had never done me wrong—

A feeble man, and old;

I led him to a lonely field,

The moon shone clear and cold: Now here, said I, this man shall die, And I will have his gold!

"Two sudden blows with a ragged stick,
And one with a heavy stone,
One hurried gash with a hasty knife—
And then the deed was done :
There was nothing lying at my foot,
But lifeless flesh and bone!

"Nothing but lifeless flesh and bone,
That could not do me ill;

And yet I feared him all the more,
For lying there so still :

There was a manhood in his look,
That murder could not kill!

"And lo! the universal air

Seemed lit with ghastly flame-
Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes
Were looking down in blame:
I took the dead man by the hand,
And called upon his name;

"Oh, God! it made me quake to see
Such sense within the slain!
But when I touched the lifeless clay, .
The blood gushed out amain!
For every clot, a burning spot
Was scorching in my brain!

"My head was like an ardent coal,
My heart as solid ice;

My wretched, wretched soul, I knew
Was at the devil's price:

A dozen times I groaned, the dead

Had never groaned but twice;

"And now from forth the frowning sky,
From the heaven's topmost height,
I heard a voice-the awful voice,
Of the blood-avenging sprite :
'Thou guilty man! take up thy dead,
And hide it from my sight.'

“I took the dreary body up,
And cast it in a stream-
A sluggish water black as ink,
The depth was so extreme.
My gentle boy, remember this
Is nothing but a dream!

"Down went the corpse with a hollow plunge, And vanished in the pool;

Anon I cleansed my bloody hands,

And washed my forehead cool, And sat among the urchins young

That evening in the school!

"Oh heaven, to think of their white souls, And mine so black and grim!

I could not share in childish prayer,

Nor join in evening hymn :

Like a devil of the pit I seemed, 'Mid holy cherubim !

"And peace went with them one and all,
And each calm pillow spread;

But Guilt was my grim chamberlain
That lighted me to bed,

And drew my midnight curtains round,

With fingers bloody red!

"All night I lay in agony,

In anguish dark and deep;
My fevered eyes I dared not close,
But stared aghast at sleep;

For sin had rendered unto her
The keys of hell to keep!

"All night I lay in agony,
From weary chime to chime,
With one besetting horrid hint,
That racked me all the time-
A mighty yearning, like the first
Fierce impulse unto crime!

"One stern, tyrannic thought, that made
All other thoughts its slave;
Stronger and stronger every pulse

Did that temptation crave

Still urging me to go and see

The dead man in his grave!

"Heavily I rose up as soon
As light was in the sky—
And sought the black accursed pool
With a wild misgiving eye;

And I saw the dead in the river bed,
For the faithless stream was dry!

"Merrily rose the lark, and shook
The dewdrop from its wing;

But I never marked its morning flight,
I never heard it sing:

For I was stooping once again

Under the horrid thing.

"With breathless speed, like a soul in chase, I took him up

and ran

There was no time to dig a grave

Before the day began;

In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves
I hid the murdered man!

"And all that day I read in school,
But my thought was other where!
As soon as the midday task was done,
In secret I was there:

And a mighty wind had swept the leaves,
And still the corse was bare!

“Then down I cast me on my face,
And first began to weep,

For I knew my secret then was one
That earth refused to keep;
Or land or sea, though he should be
Ten thousand fathoms deep!

"So wills the fierce avenging sprite,
Till blood for blood atones!
Ay, though he's buried in a cave,
And trodden down with stones,
And years have rotted off his flesh-
The world shall see his bones!

[This effective piece is copyright of the Author, who must be communicated with before it can be delivered before a paying audience.]

OH where shall I take me? Where? Where?

Where there is peace and rest,

Oh where shall I take me from care

Care of the sore unblest ?

Oh where shall I hide my sorrow?
Where all my shame inurn?
Oh where is the bless'd to-morrow?
Where, oh where shall I turn ?

Oh where is my husband-lover ?
Where is my child of sin ?
Oh where is there aught to cover
Shame of the thoughts within ?

Oh where is the bourn they have gained ?
Lover and child both dead.

Oh where shall I lay this o'er-pained,
Weary and aching head?

Oh where but in wild repentance
Waste through this mortal pain ?

Oh where escape the vile sentence
Earn'd by an earthly stain ?

Oh where was my soul the moment,
That moment when I fell ?

Oh where shall I hide from torment,
Torment of living Hell?

Oh where are the Christian matrons,
Where are the Christian men
Who'll venture to be my patrons
When they have heard, oh when

The charity never spoken
Here, in this callous life,
Would save a weak soul, all broken,
Broken with heavy strife?

Then where shall I find this pity,
Charity-what you will-
Yes, where? In this cruel city?
Out upon yonder hill ?

No! No! I know the world better-
Better! Ah, bad for me!
They'd say I was still their debtor,
Debtor for charity,

If toiling and drudging daily
Water and bread I got,

While they through the world go gaily
I may go starve and rot.

Thank God, there's a river flowing!

Death is the where for me;

To death I can go, well knowing

Rest's in Eternity.

(By permission of the Author.)

OUR FOLKS.

ETHEL LYNN.

[An American authoress of repute. Still living.]

"Hi! Harry! halt a breath, and tell a comrade just a thing or

two;

You've been on furlough? been to see how all the folks in Jersey

do ?

It's long ago since I was there-I, and a bullet from Fair Oaks :When you were home, old comrade, say, did you see any of our

folks P'