RING DOWN THE DROP-I CANNOT PLAY. J. W. WATSON. O painted gauds and mimic scenes, "There's that within which passeth show:" Ring up the drop, the play is on; Hear how their plaudits fill the scene! Is listened to with breathless heed. Can it be true that scores of years Can it be true that all of art Has failed to teach the human heart? Can gauds, and tricks, and shout, and glare, Not stifle this sad life within? Pah, man! the eager people wait; Shalt thou not feed their longing eyes What! staggering, man? why, where's thy art? Ring down the drop; the act is o'er; THE GOLDEN STREET.-WILLIAM O. STODDARD. The toil is very long and I am tired: Oh, Father, I am weary of the way! Give me that rest I have so long desired; Bring me that Sabbath's cool refreshing day, Press the cool smoothness of the golden street. Tired, very tired! And I at times have seen, At last wave over those whose world-worn feet To think how long until my world-worn feet Press the cool smoothness of the gold en street. They shall not wander from that blessed way;Nor heat, nor cold, nor weariness, nor sin, Nor any clouds in that eternal day Trouble them more who once have entered in ;~ And think of those dear souls whose world-worn feet Tired, very tired!—but I will patient be, I too shall walk beside the crystal sea, And pluck the ripe fruit, all that God-lit day, When thou, O Lord, shalt let my world-worn feet NATURE PROCLAIMS A DEITY.-CHATEAUBRIAND. There is a God! The herbs of the valley, the cedars of the mountain, bless him; the insect sports in his beam; the bird sings him in the foliage; the thunder proclaims him in the heavens; the ocean declares his immensity ;--man alone has said, There is no God! Unite in thought at the same instant the most beautiful objects in nature. Suppose that you see, at once, all the hours of the day, and all the seasons of the year,―a morning of spring, and a morning of autumna night bespangled with stars, and a night darkened by clouds--meadows enameled with flowers--forests hoary with snow-fields gilded by the tints of autumn,-then alone you will have a just conception of the universe! While you are gazing on that sun which is plunging into the vault of the west, another observer admires him emerging from the gilded gates of the east. By what inconceivable power does that agéd star, which is sinking fatigued and burning in the shades of the evening, reappear at the same instant fresh and humid with the rosy dew of the morning? At every hour of the day, the glorious orb is at once rising, resplendent as noon-lay, and setting in the west; or rather, our senses deceive us, and there is, properly speaking, no east or west, no north or south, in the world. HOW THE DUTCHMAN KILLED THE WOODCHUCK. Vell den, I dells you mit te dime I goed a huntin mit mine brodder Shake, ven ve vash boys not so biggerish ash ve ish now. Shake he vash smaller ash I pin, unt I vash bigger ash Shake. We vash dwin boys, but dere vash about two or dree years bigger ash vun anudder vash. Vell den, von day I dakes brodder Shake unt two udder togs, und I dells dem we go a huntin mit te woodchuck unt some oder dings. Ve go to te old barn past, unt te pack of te field behint us, unt pooty soon we kit te voots in te mittle of us, ten I vistles to Shake unt te udder two togs, unt py unt py somedings schart te togs, unt they roon shust so pig fasht ash dey neffer vas roon pefore. Shake he roon pooty fasht, unt I roon, for I dinks somedings vas schart mit de togs. Pooty soon te togs vash stop mit roonin, unt vash makin dere hets in te log mit a pig hole in, ven I comes up. Shake, he says, "Prodder Hans, ter ish a woodchuck in te log mit te hole." Den I tells Shake, "You shust vatch mit vun hole, unt te togs te udder hole, den I vill make vun udder hole, mit mine ax, in te mittle of te log, unt den, ven I see him, I vill schlock him un te koop, unt schmite his het off mit te ax." So Shake, he says, "I vill stop te hole mit mine foot, so he vill not mooch kit out mit dis hole." Den I dakes mine ax, unt a hole make in te log. Pooty soon I kits a hole, unt I dinks I see te woodchuck, unt I dells prodder Shake to still be, unt I shopped a little more, unt den I sees te dings het, so I makes te ax come down mit all my might-I dinks I vill make his het off-unt, mine gracious! vat you dink! Prodder Shake, he make von pig noise, urt he gommence a groanin, schwearin in Tuch unt English all togedder, unt he says, "Prodder Hans, dash ish not te woodchuck; you ish von biggest fool, you hash schmite mine foot off. Oh! mine gootness! I ish kill!" Vell, I vash schart mooch; I dinks I had kilt prodder Shake, unt I gried, unt schweared a leetle, den I looked in te hole, unt tere vash a bart of prodder Shake's poot, unt two or dree toes, all ploody, laying in te log, put dere vash no woodchuck or any udder dings in te log. Shake he croaned so pig lout, dat I dake his foot unt dies mine shirt up mit it. Shake, he make him up on my pack, unt garried him to te house. Py unt by his foot git well, put no more toes crowed out it, unt he say, "Prodder Hans, I vili no more go woodchuck hunt mit you;" unt he neffer did. THE RED JACKET.-GEORGE M. BAKER. "Tis a cold, bleak night! with angry roar In lofty halls, where fortune takes its ease, From yonder dwelling, fiercely shooting out, And see! far up above the flame's hot breath, Stands, like a phantom, 'mid the horrid glare,— |