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A stately mansion on a hill
In which were dwelling her and Will.
Rich paintings on the frescoed wall,
Lace drapery and curtains fall,
The rustling silk, the marble floors,
While servants came at her command,
Their footsteps heard on every hand
Resounding through the corridors.
The mist float from before her eyes,
'Twas but a dream of paradise.
Their future sealed their homeward way
They step with hearts so light and gay.

MRS. ANSELINA E. DWYER.

BORN: ENGLAND, OCT. 7, 1846. A Few of the poems of this lady have appeared in the Transcript of Lynn, Mass., in which city she now resides,

I'd have you her engagement break,
Let base dishonor your name share,
I'd suffer pain no tongue could tell,
My heart with anguish overflow,
My life-blood break its prison cell
And make a crimson flood for you.
Go back to your fair Isabelle,
Forget the wild girl in the dell.”
One sad reproachful look she gave
Him as she slowly turned to leave.
A stinging pain shot to his heart
And pierced it like a quivering dart.
His countenance was flushed with shame
To join dishonor with his name.
..Please, Lilly, do not leave me so,
Your virtues I more highly prize
On hearing what you've said.

But know,
Will Curtis will not tell you lies.
So when I tell you I am free,
Bound by no promises or ties,
Perhaps you'll kindly think of me.
Here read this note.” With trembling hand
He cast a letter on the sand
Before her heavy downcast eyes.
She picks it up - her eyes she dries -
And reads the missive's contents through:

Viola, State of

March 27th, '775.
Will Curtis:

Sir,-I freely give
You back the longed-for liberty:
Am glad to know that I am free.
Our promises were premature
And brought about by other hands.
Neither are satisfied I'm sure
While our engagement stands.
Like you, my heart for freedom yearned
Until you did that freedom send.
With this your kindness I've returned.
Remember me

Your sincere friend

Belle Morton.

..Will, another star Shall guide my future, brighter far Than any I have ever known Save one, and that from heaven shone. This letter has revealed to me Your noble heart, and that it's free. So if on me, unworthy me, You would its tenderness bestow, I'll gladly give my heart to thee, You'll gently care for it I know." Again he clasped her to his breast And joyous rapturous kisses pressed To her sweet lips upturned to his As if to seal eternal bliss. While standing thus in close embrace, Her face upturned to meet his face, Some power seemed to bear away Her mind in which bright visions play,

MY WINDOW GARDEN. A tiny garden I possess, Hid in a window's deep recess; Grateful beneath the sun's caress Expands its leafy loveliness. And when the sun lights up the green, And quivering sbadows play between, The blossoms on my ivy screen Like dewdrops glisten in its sheen. My stately calla pearly crowned, No queenlier flower e'er was found And lesser beauties grouped around Rare fragrance, sweet, shed o'er the mound. A symbol in the passion vine I see, transfixed the Man Divine, The whips, the nails, the cords that twine Around his limbs, the halo's shine. And here in emerald velvet dressed Geraniums lift their scarlet crest; Pinks, fuschias, lilies 'mong the rest, And soulful pansies - loved the best. No florists' skill I boast, or know The names which science doth bestow; But knowledge greater far they show; God's loving care to all below.

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TWO SHOULDERS AT THE WHEEL. Should you meet a troubled brother,

Then a kindred spirit feel; Heavy burdens might be lifted

With two shoulders at the wheel. Let him know you take an interest,

"Twill not take bim long to see Whether you're a true well-wisher

Or a shamming Pharisee.
And the time might not be distant

When you'll lack both strength and zeal When perhaps you would be grateful

For one extra at your wheel.
Do not turn your back upon him,

Do not coolly walk away,
Just because you think you're made of

Some superior sort of clay.
When we come to think about it -

INGRATITUDE.
There was a peasant found a frozen snake,

And, with a sweet simplicity sublime,
He placed it by the fire, that it might wake
To thoughts of comfort, for 'twas winter-

time. The snake began to writhe and curl with

pleasure, And, in accordance with its snakish creed, It turned around (the fascinating treasure!) And stung its too-confiding .. Friend in

need!"

CHILDHOOD. In our childhood's springtime,

Basking in the glade, How we listened to the chime

Which the sweet bells made! Childhood, happy childhood!

Days that swiftly go!

HENRY M. DOWNING.

BORN: BOSTON, MASS., SEPT. 7, 1852. At the age of fourteen Henry went to sea and made three voyages to India, and next joined a steamship running from 'Frisco to Panama. For a time he was in the Indian service. For several years Mr. Downing was the marine

He saw a little cottage home,

A picture pure and fair,
An infant's cot, a sailor's wife,

Upon her knees in prayer.
A smile broke o'er bis freezing face,

His hand his bosom sought,
And tenderly, with wiser care,

Some treasure forth he brought. He pressed it fondly to his lips,

His lips so pale and cold,
And tears gushed from his eyes, which froze,

As down his cheeks they rolled.
A mighty wave! A sudden shock!

She strikes - and all is o'er;
The noble vessel lies a wreck,

Upon the rocky shore.

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The sun climbed up the eastern arch,

And shone with baleful glare,
And tranquilly looked down upon

The desolation there.
Among the weed the bodies lay

A cold and icy bed,
And on each frozen face was stamped

Death's horror and its dread Save one - a smile was on his lips,

Damp with death's clammy dew, And in his rigid band was clasped,

A little baby's shoe.

HDWIGHT BENJAMIN. BORN: HAMPSHIRE Co., Mass., DEC. 18, 1824. TAE poems of Mr. Benjamin have appeared in the Rochester Advent Harbinger, Portsmouth Republican and other papers. Mr. Benjamin occasionally preaches, but is by occupation a farmer. He resides at Lucasville,O.

HENRY MARLTON DOWNING. editor of the Boston Daily Post, and is now engaged in special work on the Boston Globe. He has written principally stories, and both his prose and verse have appeared in the leading publications of America. Mr. Downing was married in 1873 to Miss Sarah Thayer.

A BABY'S SHOE.
The wind was cold, the night was dark,

The ice made thick and fast,
A bark drew near the rugged rocks

Before the wintry blast.
The craft unpeopled, saving one,

And he at the helm lashed,
His beard was iced, and his frame was chilled,

By the spray that o'er him dashed.
The noble ship pursued her course,

Approaching fast her doom,
But still that single soul remained

Enshrouded in the gloom.
He recked not of the solitude,

Nor felt the dashing spray,
For while his hand was on the wheel,

His heart was far away.

THE RIGHT WAY.
Be true to all, and ever true;
Pay what you owe when it is due,
Sing . Psalms and Hymns," and songs, a few,

To cheer you o'er the river.
CHO.-Oh! sing and pray and happy be,

From death we all sball soon be free,
Then free from sin forever be,

And free from death forever.
As you would have all do to you,
So do to them, for God is true;
Your ways be fair, your words be few,

. God loves the cheerful giver."
Thus on your way both sing and pray;
Do good, not bad, from day to day,
And sin, no never, never .. nay,".

Then sin, no never, never. Then when you die most happy be, If pain affict you'll soon be free; Then free from sin, forever free,

Then free from death forever.

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MRS. BERTA W. BOWEN.

BORN: VICTORIA, TEX., SEPT. 28, 1854. IN 1874 this lady was married to Walter C. Bowen, at that time editor of a weekly paper published at Oakville, Texas. In 1883 Mr. Bowen and his wife established the Cotulla Ledger, which they still own and control.

With white sails spread, I sent my fleet,

To bring me happiness complete. All, all were lost upon the main,

And prayer and tear alike are vain! And some went down 'neath fairest sky,

And many fathoms deep they lie. Some knew a darker, fiercer death,

Tossed on the waves by tempests' breath, Until the masts and sails all worn,

They on the cruel reefs were driven. And one — the fairest of the fleet,

Laden with youth and hope and love, I sent -- the sky was fair above,

And bright the sparkling waters 'neath. 0, coward heart, be brave, I cried,

No ill can this strong ship betide, But scarcely had it sailed away

Before a cloud o'ercast the day. I saw the angry tempest rise,

And lightnings flash along the skies, Then soon the muttering thunder rolled,

That danger to my ship foretold. And soon the billows, wild and dark,

Assailed my fair love-freighted bark, But scorning Neptune's proffered grave,

It triumphed long o'er wind and wave. At last upon a rock 'twas cast

0, heart! thy greatest loss is past! No other canst thou ever know

With half its bitterness and woe. Oh! sea, I cry, oh, cruel sea!

Return my treasures unto me! The bissing waters mock my moan,

As on the strand the wrecks are strewn. So standing by life's troubled main,

I watch and wait but all in vain,
No white sail flutters o'er the sea,

To herald a coming ship to me.
Peace, peace! be still, O heart of mine!

Sorrow and loss were ever thine,
Soon will life's troubled dream be o'er,

And thou shalt seek another shore, Where wreck and loss are known no more.

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LOST AT SEA. Life's day hath lost its golden glow,

Adown life's west the sun is low, And soon into the great unknown,

My spirit barque must drift alone. It is not age -- age is not all,

Griefs blighting snow as beavy fall, And touched by sorrow's icy breath,

Life's flow'ret withers oft in death. I stand upon the wondrous strand,

Laved by the tide of vanished years, With aching heart and outstretched hands,

With crying strong and bitter tears. I plead unto the voiceless main,

To bring my treasures back again,

LIFE'S SADDEST LOSS. 0, heart of mine! why do you grieve, The shores of loss and time to leave; As our barque glides slowly out to sea, The great dark sea of eternity? Why backward turn with longing and tears? What have they brought you - those vanish

ed years? I remember well, how in sweet childhood, When I thought the world all pure and good, To you I said: How sweet is life! Ah! little we recked of its cruel strife! But we've learned since then, have not we, heart?

(to part We were young when first called with a hope

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