eye-glass and a moustache, his hair cut Pompadour? No, most decidedly! Solomon in the very zenith of his glory was not arrayed like one of these.

Despite the experience of the morning, the hope still remained that in the evening a sacred song might be sung in a manner that might not excite our risibilities, or leave the impression that we had been listening to a case of blackmail. But again off started the nimble soprano with the very laudable, though startling, announcement, "I will wash." Straightway the alto, not to be outdone, declared she would wash; and the tenor, finding it to be the thing, warbled forth that he would wash; then the deep-chested bass, as though calling up all his fortitude for the plunge, declared that he would wash; next, a short interlude on the organ, strongly suggestive of the escaping of steam or splash of the waves; after which the choir, individually and collectively, asserted the firm, unshaken resolve that they would wash.

At last they solved the problem by stating that they proposed to "wash their hands in innocency; so will the altar of the Lord be compassed."

THE OLD MAN'S "YESTERDAY."

"Was 't yesterday? Yes, 't was yesterday!
It must have been yesterday morn :—
I stood on the bank of the River Ray,
Where the squadrons of martial corn
Their silken banners had just unfurled

To the breeze, by the singing stream,
When a vision of beauty, all golden-curled,
Grew into my waking dream.

"I know it was yesterday,—for now,
The rustle I seem to hear,

As the tall corn parted right and left,
And a voice rang soft and clear,—
'Wait, Willie, wait! I am almost there!
I said I would grant your wish,-
So I've made a line of my golden hair,
And am coming to help you fish!'

"Yes! (why do I doubt?) it was yesterday

For I see the soft tassels there
Sunning themselves in a worshipful way
In the light of her yellow hair,

While her voice rings merrily over the corn,―

"And you know I'm coming to help you fish-
you 'll think me a silly girl,

But

For I have n't a bit of bait—but wait!

I'll bait with a tiny curl!

And, Willie, say-do you think they'll bite?

And then, what shall I do?

Must I pull and pull with all my might?
But I'll wait, and look at you!'

"Ah, me! ah, me! was it yesterday?
It seems but a day ago !

Yet three-score years of yesterdays

Have whitened my head with snow

Since we sat, in that sweetest of summer-times,—

I and my beautiful May,—

Coining our love into wedding chimes.

On the bank of the River Ray."

-Edward A. Jenks.

THE SPINNING-WHEEL SONG.

Mellow the moonlight to shine is beginning;
Close by the window young Eileen is spinning:
Bent o'er the fire, her blind grandmother, sitting,
Is crooning, and moaning, and drowsily knitting:
"Eileen, achora, I hear some one tapping."

""Tis the ivy, dear grandma, against the glass flapping."
"Eileen, surely I hear somebody sighing."

“'Tis the sound, grandma dear, of the summer wind dying."

Merrily, cheerily, noisily whirring,

Swings the wheel, spins the reel, while the foot's stirring.
Sprightly, and lightly, and airly ringing,

Trills the sweet song the young maiden is singing:

"What's this dull wheel to me?-Robin 's not here,― He whom I love so dear, Robin Adair."

"What's that noise I hear at the window, I wonder?"
""T is the little birds chirping the holly bush under."
"What makes you be shoving and moving your stool on,
And singing all wrong that old song of the Coolun?"

There's a form at the casement-the form of her true love-
And he whispers, with face bent, "I'm waiting for you, love :
Get up on the stool, through the lattice step lightly,
We'll rove in the grove while the moon's shining brightly."

Merrily, cheerily, noisily whirring,

Swings the wheel, spins the reel, while the foot's stirring.
Sprightly, and lightly, and airily ringing,

Trills the sweet voice of the young maiden singing:

66

"Every lassie has her laddie,—nane, they say,

have I,—

Yet a' the lads they smile at me when coming thro' the rye."

The maid shakes her head, on her lips lays her fingers,
Steals up from her seat-longs to go, and yet lingers;
A frightened glance turns to her drowsy grandmother,
Puts one foot on the stool, spins the wheel with the other.

Lazily, easily swings now the wheel round;

Slowly and lowly is heard now the reel's sound;
Noiseless and light to the lattice above her

The maid steps-then leaps to the arms of her lover.
Slower and slower-and slower the wheel swings:
Lower-and lower-and lower the reel rings:

Ere the rut and the wheel stop their ringing and moving,
Through the grove the young lovers by moonlight are roving.

FOURTH OF JULY IN JONESVILLE.

The celebration was held in Josiah's sugar bush, and I meant to be on the ground in good season; for when I have jobs I dread, I am for takin' 'em by the forelock and graplin' with 'em. But as I was bakin' my last plum puddin' and chicken pie, the folks begun to stream by: I had n't no idee there could be so many folks scairt up in Jonesville. I thought to myself, I wonder if they'd flock out so to a prayer-meetin'. But they kep' a comin', all kinds of folks, in all kinds of vehicles, from a six-horse team down to peaceable lookin' men and wimmen drawin' baby wagons, with two babies in most of 'em.

There was a stagin' built in most the middle of the grove for the leadin' men of Jonesville to set on. As Josiah owned the ground, he was invited to set on the stagin'.

As I glanced up at that man every little while through the day, I thought proudly to myself, There may be nobler lookin' men there, and men that would weigh more by the stilyards, but there ha'n't a whiter shirt bosom there than Josiah Allen's.

About noon Prof. Aspire Todd walked slowly onto the ground, arm in arm with the editor of the Gimlet, old Mr. Bobbet follerin' him closely behind. As he walked upon the stagin' behind the editor of the Gimlet, the band struck up "Hail to the chief that in triumph advances." As soon as it stopped playing, the editor of the Gimlet come forward and said,—

"Fellow-citizens of Jonesville and the adjacent and surroundin' world, I have the honor and privilege of presenting to you the orator of the day, the noble and eloquent Prof. Aspire Todd, Esq."

Prof. Todd came forward and made a low bow.

"Brethren and Sisters of Jonesville," says he, "Friends and Patrons of Liberty: In risin' upon this aeroster, I have signified by that act a desire to address you. I am not here, fellow and sister citizens, to outrage your feelings by triflin' remarks; but I am here, noble brothers and sisters of Jonesville, not in a mephitical manner and I trust not in a mantorial, but to present a few plain truths in a plain manner for your consideration. My friends, we are in one sense but tennefolious blossoms of life; or, if you will pardon the tergiversation, we are all numeratin' tennirosters, hoverin' upon an illination of mythroplasm."

FOURTH OF JULY IN JONESVILLE.

187

"Jes' so," cried old Bobbet, who was settin' on a bench right under the speaker's stand, with his fat red face shinin' with pride and enthusiasm. "Jes' so! so we be!"

Prof. Todd looked down on him in a troubled kind of a way for a minute, and then went on: "Noble inhabitants of Jonesville, we are actinolitic bein's: each of our souls like the acalphia, radiates a circle of pusmatic tentacles, showing the divine iridescent essence of which composed are they."

"Jes' so!" shouted old Bobbet louder than before. "Jes' so, so they did; I allus said so."

"And if we are content to moulder out our existence, like fibrous, venticulated polypus, clingin' to the crustaceous courts of custom if we cling not like soarin' prytanes to the phantoms that lower their sceptres down through the murky waves of retrogression, endeavoring to lure us upward in the scale of progressive bein'-in what degree do we differ from the acalphia?”

"Jes' so," says old Bobbet, lookin' defiantly round on the audience. "There he's got you: how can they?"

Prof. Todd looked down on Bobbet, put his hand to his brow in a wild kind of way, and then went on.

"Let us, noble brethren in the broad field of humanity, let us rise, let us prove that mind is superior to matter; let us prove ourselves superior to the acalphia

"Yes, less," said old Bobbet, "less prove ourselves."

"Let us shame the actinia," said the Professor.

"Yes, jes' so!" shouted old Bobbet, "less shame him!" and in his enthusiasm he got up and hollered again, "Less shame him!" * * *

Prof. Todd continued his piece without any more inter. ruption, till most the last, he wanted the public of Jonesville to "dround black care in the deep waters of oblivion, mind not her mad throes of dissolvin' bein', but let the deep waters cover her black head, and march onward."

Then the old gentleman forgot himself, and sprung up and hollered,

"Yes! dround the black cat, hold her head under!

What if she

is mad! don't mind her screamin'! there will be cats enough left in the world! Do as he tells you to! less dround her!"