their epitaphs but characters written in the dust? What is the security of a tomb, or the perpetuity of an embalmment? The remains of Alexander the Great have been scattered to the wind, and his empty sarcophagus is now the mere curiosity of a museum. "The Egyptian mummies, which Cambyses or time hath spared, avarice now consumeth; Mizraim cures wounds, and Pharaoh is sold for balsams."

What, then, is to insure this pile, which now towers above me, from sharing the fate of mightier mausoleums? The time must come when its gilded vaults, which now spring so loftily, shall lie in rubbish beneath the feet; when, instead of the sound of melody and praise, the wind shall whistle through the broken arches, and the owl hoot from the shattered tower-when the garish sunbeam shall break into these gloomy mansions of death, and the ivy twine round the fallen column, and the fox-glove hang its blossoms about the nameless urn, as if in mockery of the dead. Thus man passes away; his name perishes from record and recollection; his history is as a tale that is told, and his very monument becomes a ruin.-WASHINGTON IRVING.

OUR TRAVELED PARSON.

1.

FOR twenty years and over our good parson had been

toiling

To chip the bad meat from our hearts, and keep the good

from spoiling;

But finally he wilted down, and went to looking sickly, And the doctor said that something must be put up for

him quickly.

So we kind of clubbed together, each according to his

notion,

And bought a circular ticket in the lands across the

ocean;

Wrapped some pocket money in it-what we thought would easy do him

And appointed me committee-man to go and take it to him.

I found him in his study, looking rather worse than

ever,

And told him 't was decided that his flock and he should

sever.

Then his eyes grew wide with wonder, and it seemed almost to blind 'em ;

And some tears looked out o' window, with some others. close behind 'em.

Then I handed him the ticket, with a little bow of

deference,

And he studied quite a little ere he got its proper reference;

And then the tears that waited, great unmanageable creatures,

Let themselves quite out o' window, and came climbing down his features.

II.

I wish you could ha' seen him, coming back all fresh

and glowing,

His clothes so worn and seedy, and his face so fat and

knowing;

I wish you could have heard him when he prayed for us who sent him,

And paid us back twice over all the money we had lent

"T was a feast to all believers, 't was a blight on

contradiction,

To hear one just from Calvary talk about the crucifixion;

'Twas a damper on those fellows who pretended they could doubt it,

To have a man who'd been there stand and tell them all about it.

Paul, maybe, beat our pastor in the Bible knots unraveling

And establishing new churches, but he could n't touch him traveling,

Nor in his journeys pick up half the general information; But then he had n't the railroads and the steamboat navigation.

And every foot of Scripture whose location used to stump us

Was now regularly laid out, with the different points of compass.

When he undertook a picture, he quite natural would

draw it;

He would paint it out so honest that it seemed as if you saw it.

An' the way he chiseled Europe-oh, the way he scampered through it!

Not a mountain dodged his climbing, not a city but he knew it;

There was n't any subject to explain in all creation,

But he could go to Europe and bring back an illustration.

So we crowded out to hear him, much instructed and

delighted;

"Twas a picture-show, a lecture, and a sermon, all united; And my wife would wipe her glasses, and serenely pet her Test'ment,

And whisper, "That ere ticket was a very good investment."

III.

Now after six months' travel we were most of us all ready To settle down a little, so 's to live more staid and steady; To develop home resources, with no foreign cares to

fret us,

Using home-made faith more frequent; but the parson would n't let us.

To view the self-same scenery time and time again he'd

call us,

Over rivers, plains, and mountains he would any minute

haul us;

He slighted our home sorrows, and our spirits' aches and ailings,

To get the cargoes ready for his reg'lar Sunday sailings.

He would take us off a-touring in all spiritual weather, Till we at last got homesick like, and seasick altogether: And "I wish to all that's peaceful," said one free-expressioned brother,

That the Lord had made one cont'nent, and then never made another!"

Sometimes, indeed, he'd take us into sweet, familiar places,

And pull along quite steady in the good old gospel traces;

But soon my wife would shudder, just as if a chill had got her,

Whispering, "Oh, my goodness gracious! he's a-takin to the water!"

And it wasn't the same old comfort when he called around to see us;

On a branch of foreign travel he was sure at last to tree us;

All unconscious of his error, he would sweetly patronize us, And with oft-repeated stories still endeavor to surprise us.

IV.

And the sinners got to laughing; and that fin'lly galled and stung us

To ask him, Would he kindly once more settle down among us?

Did n't he think that more home-produce would improve our souls' digestions?

They appointed me committee-man to go and ask the questions.

I found him in his garden, trim an' buoyant as a feather; He pressed my hand, exclaiming, "This is quite Italian

weather;

How it 'minds me of the evenings when, your distant hearts caressing,

Upon my benefactors I invoked the heavenly blessing!"

V.

I went and told the brothers, "No, I can not bear to grieve him ;

He's so happy in his exile, it's the proper place to leave

him.