Till the Belfry in the Forest quivered with the matin stroke, And the martins, from the edges of its lichen-lidded ledges, Shimmered through the russet arches where the Light in torn files marches, Like a routed army struggling through the serried ranks of oak. Through my ivy-fretted casement filtered in a tremulous note From the tall and stately linden where a Robin swelled his throat : Querulous, quaker-breasted Robin, calling quaintly for his mate f Then I started up, unbidden, from my slumber Nightmare ridden, With the memory of that Dire Demon in my central Fire, On my eye's interior mirror like the shadow of a Fate ! Ah! the fiendish Fire had smouldered to a white and form less heap, And no knot of oak was flaming as it flamed upon my sleep; But around its very centre, where the Demon Face had shone, Forked Shadows seemed to linger, pointing as with spectral finger To a BIBLE, massive, golden, on a table carved and olden And I bowed, and said, "All Power is of God, of God alone!" MARK TWAIN'S OPINION OF CHAMBERMAIDS. AGAINST all chambermaids, of whatsoever_age or nationality, I launch the curse of bachelordom! Because: They always put the pillows at the opposite end of the bed from the gas-burner, so that while you read and smoke before sleeping, (as is the ancient and honored custom of bachelors,) you have to hold your book aloft, in an uncomfortable position, to keep the light from dazzling your eyes. When they find the pillows removed to the other end of the bed in the morning, they receive not the suggestion in a friendly spirit; but, glorying in their absolute sover eignty, and unpitying your helplessness, they make the bed just as it was originally, and gloat in secret over the pang their tyranny will cause you. Always after that, when they find you have transposed the pillows, they undo your work, and thus defy and seek to embitter the life that God has given you. If they cannot get the light in an inconvenient position any other way, they move the bed. If you pull your trunk out six inches from the wall, so that the lid will stay up when you open it, they always shove that trunk back again. They do it on purpose. If you want the spittoon in a certain spot, where it will be handy, they don't, and so they move it. They always put your other boots into inaccessible places. They chiefly enjoy depositing them as far under the bed as the wall will permit. It is because this compels you to get down in an undignified attitude and make wild sweeps for them in the dark with the boot-jack, and swear. They always put the match-box in some other place. They hunt up a new place for it every day, and put up a bottle, or other perishable glass thing, where the box stood before. This is to cause you to break that glass thing, groping in the dark, and get yourself into trouble. They are forever and ever moving the furniture. When you come in, in the night, you can calculate on finding the bureau where the wardrobe was in the morning. And when you go out in the morning, if you leave the slopbucket by the door, and the rocking-chair by the window, when you come in at midnight, or thereabouts, you will fall over that rocking-chair, and you will proceed toward the window and sit down in that slop-tub. This will disgust you. They like that. No matter where you put anything, they are not going to let it stay there. They will take it and move it the first chance they get. It is their nature. And, besides, it gives them pleasure to be mean and contrary this way. They would die if they couldn't be villains. They always save up all the old scraps of printed rubbish you throw on the floor, and stack them up carefully on the table, and start the fire with your valuable manuscripts. If there is any one particular old scrap that you are more down on than any other, and which you are gradually wearing your life out trying to get rid of, you may take all the pains you possibly can in that direction, but it won't be of any use, because they will always fetch that old scrap back and put it in the same old place again every time. It does them good. And they use up more hair-oil than any six men. If charged with purloining the same, they lie about it. What do they care about a hereafter? Absolutely nothing. If you leave your key in the door for convenience sake, they will carry it down to the office and give it to the clerk. They do this under the vile pretence of trying to protect your property from thieves; but actually they do it because they want to make you tramp back down-stairs after it when you come home tired, or put you to the trouble of sending a waiter for it, which waiter will expect you to pay him something. In which case I suppose the degraded creatures divide. They keep always trying to make your bed before you get up, thus destroying your rest and inflicting agony upon you; but after you get up, they don't come any more till next day. They do all the mean things they can think of, and they Jo them just out of pure cussedness, and nothing else. Chambermaids are dead to every human instinct. I have cursed them in hehalf of outraged bachelordom. They deserve it. If I can get a bill through the Legislature abolishing chambermaids, I mean to do it. AWAKE! AWAKE! (1861.)—Elmer Ruare Coates. Come from the hamlet where, close by your darling, See how the monarchs of Europe and Asia See how they love with a vampire affection, Talk not of politics, talk not of party, Already the death-bell of freedom is rung; Talk not of airy and subtle distinction, In slippers and wrappers o'er goblets of rum. Or, when the tornadoes your dwelling-house shake? This is the work of the base politicians, Of schemers defeated and bent upon bane; This is the fruit of a maddened ambition, To stand at the wheel and to gloat over fame ! This is the end of forgetting religion, As long as they thought there was lucre to make: Shall but a few leaders dissolve us forever? God banish our slumbers and keep us awake! What! Shall we break into bits, like the chalice Shall the South leave the North, and the East leave the West, Shall counties and townships authority take? Don't let it be said that America drafted: Soul of the nation-Awake! Awake!! Will you surrender the Father of Waters- While Northmen the name of the foreigner take, Ho! for the Army! Awake! Awake!! We are contending for holiest principle; 66 Future Republican effort will languish, The heart in the Goddess of Liberty ache; Earth will unwind all the reeling of ages, Then oh! for Jehovah-Awake! Awake!! 'Rouse! like the ancient and mighty Leviathan, Having such means, with a nation at stake- Strike on the chain that shall circle the Union- A shield and asylum for all the oppressed; Srike for your homes, for your wives and your children, Rally, ye freemen! Arouse to the rescue! - THE INQUIRY.-Charles Mackay. FELL me, ye winged winds, that round my pathway ro.r Do ye not know some spot where mortals weep no more? Some lone and pleasant dell, some valley in the west, Where, free from toil and pain, the weary soul may rest? The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, And sigh'd for pity as it answer'd "No." Tell me, thou mighty deep, whose billows round me play, Know'st thou some favor'd spot, some island far away, Where weary man may find the bliss for which he sighsWhere sorrow never lives, and friendship never dies? The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow, Stopp'd for a while, and sigh'd to answer-“No.” And thou, serenest moon, that, with such lovely face, Dost look upon the earth, asleep in night's embrace; Tell me, in all thy round, hast thou not seen some spot, Where miserable man might find a happier lot? Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe, And a voice, sweet, but sad, responded-"No." Tell me, my secret soul;-oh! tell me, Hope and Faith, Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals given, |