Why is my mother musing there, On that same consecrated spot Where once she taught me words of prayer? She's vanished; but a dearer friend,- She does not hear; away she flies, Hark, hark! for bread my children cry, But 'tis in vain, in vain to try; Oh, give me back the drunkard's cup! My lips are parched, my heart is sad; It won't wash out, that crimson stain! I've scoured those spots, and made them white; Blood reappears again, again, Soon as the morning brings the light! When from my sleepless couch I come, 'Twas there I heard his piteous cry, Hark! still I hear that piteous wail; Oh, I would fly to other lands; Guard, guard those windows! bar that door! They've robbed my house of all its store, See how that rug those reptiles soil; On every limb,-around my head: A fiend! a fiend, with many a dart, He's gone, he's gone! and I am free: There, there, again! that demon's there, See how his flaming eyeballs glare! Thou fiend of fiends, what's brought thee back? Back in thy car? for whom? for where? He smiles, he beckons me to come: What are those words thou'st written there? "In hell they never want for rum!" Not want for rum? Read that again! Accept thy proffer, fiend? I will; Thus raved that maniac rum had made; On, on! ye demons, on! he said, T. W. Nott MY BEAUTIFUL CHILD. Beautiful child! by thy mother's knee, Beautiful child! in my garden bowers, Never was seen in a mortal shrine. My heart thou hast gladdened two sweet years, The glory of God beams over all. Beautiful child! to thy look is given In the garden nooks thou oft art found, Beautiful child! what thy fate shall be No home, no friend, and a frowning sky. Beautiful child! thou may'st soar above, W. A. II. Sigourney. EXTRACT FROM A SERMON ON THE DEATH OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN. Republican institutions have been vindicated in this experience as they never were before; and the whole history of the last, four years, rounded up by this cruel stroke, seems, in the providence of God, to have been clothed, now, with an illustration, with a sympathy, with an aptness, and with a significance, such as we never could have expected nor imagined. God, I think, bas said, by the voice of this event, to all nations of the : earth. "Republican liberty, based upon true Christianity, is firm as the foundation of the globe." Even he who now sleeps has, by this event, been clothed with new influence. Dead, he speaks to men who now willingly hear what before they refused to listen to. Now his simple and weighty words will be gathered like those of Washington, and your children, and your children's children, shall be taught to ponder the simplicity and deep wisdom of utterances which, in their time, passed, in party heat, as idle words. Men will receive a new impulse of patriotism for his sake, and will guard with zeal the whole country which he loved so well. I swear you, on the altar of his memory, to be more faithful to the country for which he has perished. They will, as they follow his hearse, swear a new hatred to that slavery against which he warred, and which, in vanquishing him, has made him a martyr and a conqueror. I swear you, by the memory of this martyr, to hate slavery with an unappeasable hatred. They will admire and imitate the firmness of this man, his inflexible conscience for the right; and yet his gentleness, as tender as a woman's, his moderation of spirit, which not all the heat of party could inflame, nor all the jars and disturbances of this country shake out of its place I swear you to an emulation of his justice, his modera tion, and his mercy. You I can comfort; but how can I speak to that twilight million to whom his name was as the name of an angel of God? There will be wailing in places which no minister shall be able to reach. When, in hovel and in cot, in wood and in wilderness, in the field throughout the South, the dusky children, who looked upon him as that Moses whom God sent before them to lead them out of the land of bondage, learn that he has fallen, who who shall comfort them? O thou Shepherd of Israel, that didst comfort thy people of old, to thy care we commit the helpless, the long-wronged, and grieved. And now the martyr is moving in triumphal march, mightier than when alive. The nation rises up at every stage of his coming. Cities and states are his pallbearers, and the cannon beats the hours with solemn progression. Dead, dead, DEAD, he yet speaketh. Is |