Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand

Between their loved homes and the war's desolation;
Blest with victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued land
Praise the power that has made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just,
And this be our motto, "In God is our trust."

And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!
Francis Scott Key.

THE BRIGHT SIDE.

THERE is many a rest in the road of life,
If we only would stop to take it,
And many a tone from the better land,
If the querulous heart would wake it!
To the sunny soul that is full of hope,

And whose beautiful trust ne'er faileth,
The grass is green and the flowers are bright,
Though the wintry storm prevaileth.

Better to líope, though the clouds hang low,
And to keep the eyes still lifted;

For the sweet blue sky will soon peep through,
When the ominous clouds are rifted!

There was never a night without a day,
Or an evening without a morning,
And the darkest hour, as the proverb goes,
Is the hour before the dawning.

There is many a gem, in the path of life,
Which we pass in our idle pleasure,
That is richer far than the jewelled crown,
Or the miser's hoarded treasure:

It may be the love of a little child,
Or a mother's prayers to Heaven;.
Or only a beggar's grateful thanks
For a cup of water given.

Better to weave in the web of life
A bright and golden filling,
And to do God's will with a ready heart
And hands that are swift and willing,

Than to snap the delicate, slender threads
Of our curious lives asunder,

And then blame Heaven for the tangled ends,
And sit, and grieve, and wonder.

M. A. Kidder.

REPLY OF PITT TO WALPOLE, ON BEING

TAUNTED ON ACCOUNT OF YOUTH.

:

SIR,-The atrocious crime of being a young man, which the honorable gentleman has, with such spirit and decency, charged upon me, I shall neither attempt to palkate nor deny; but content myself with wishing that I may be one of those whose follies may cease with their youth, and not of that number who are ignorant in spite of expe rience. Whether youth can be imputed to any man as a reproach, I will not, sir, assume the province of determining; but surely age may become justly contemptible, if the opportunities which it brings have passed away without improvement, and vice appears to prevail when the passions have subsided.

The wretch who, after having seen the consequences of a thousand errors, continues still to blunder, and whose age has only added obstinacy to stupidity, is surely the object either of abhorrence or contempt, and deserves not that his gray hairs should secure him from insult. Much more, sir, is he to be abhorred, who as he has advanced in age, has receded from virtue, and become more wicked with less temptation; who prostitutes himself for money which he cannot enjoy, and spends the remains of his life in the ruin of his country.

But youth, sir, is not my only crime; I have been accused of acting a theatrical part. A theatrical part may either imply some peculiarities of gesture, or a dissimulation of my real sentiments, and an adoption of the opinions and language of another man.

In the first sense, sir, the charge is too trifling to be confuted, and deserves only to be mentioned, that it may be despised. I am at liberty, like every other man, to use my own language; and though, perhaps, I may have some ambition to please this gentleman, I shall not lay myself under any restraint, nor very solicitously copy his diction or his mien, however matured by age, or modelled by experience.

But if any man shall, by charging me with theatrical behavior imply that I utter any sentiments but my own,

I shall treat him as a calumniator and a villain; nor shall any protection shelter him from the treatment he deserves. I shall, on such an occasion, without scruple, trample upon all those forms with which wealth and dignity intrench themselves; nor shall anything but age restrain my resentment,-age, which always brings one privilege, that of being insolent and supercilious, without punish

ment.

But with regard, sir, to those whom I have offended, I am of opinion that if I had acted a borrowed part, Í should have avoided their censure; the heat that offended them is the ardor of conviction, and that zeal for the service of my country which neither hope nor fear shall in fluence me to suppress. I will not sit unconcerned while my liberty is invaded, nor look in silence upon public robbery. I will exert my endeavors, at whatever hazard, to repel the aggressor, and drag the thief to justice, whoever may protect him in his villainy, and whoever may partake of his plunder.

Lord Chatham.

THE WELL OF ST. KEYNE.

["In the Parish of St. Neots, Cornwall, is a well, arched over with the robes of four kinds of trees,-withy, oak, elin, and ash,-and dedicated to St. Keyne The reported virtue of the water is this, that, whether husband or wife first drank thereof, they get the mastery thereby."-FULLER.]

A WELL there is in the West country,
And a clearer one never was seen;
There is not a wife in the West country
But has heard of the well of St. Keyne.

An oak and an elm-tree stand beside,
And behind does an ash-tree grow,
And a willow from the bank above
Droops to the water below.

A traveller came to the well of St. Keyne;
Pleasant it was to his eye,

For from cock-crow, he had been travelling,
And there was not a cloud in the sky.

He drank of the water so cool and clear,
For thirsty and hot was he,

And he sat down upon the bank,
Under the willow-tree.

There came a man from the neighboring town,
At the well to fill Iris pail;

On the well-side he rested it,
And bade the stranger hail.

"Now art thou a bachelor, stranger ?" quoth he,
"For an if thou hast a wife,

The happiest draught thou hast drank this day
That ever thou didst in thy life.

"Or has your good woman, if one you have,

In Cornwall ever been?

For an if she have, I'll venture my life

She has drank of the well of St. Keyne."

"I have left a good woman who never was here," The stranger he made reply;

"But that my draught should be better for that, I pray you answer me why."

"St. Keyne," quoth the countryman, "many a time Drank of this crystal well,

And before the angel summoned her

She laid on the water a spell.

"If the husband of this gifted well

Shall drink before his wife,

A happy man thenceforth is he,
For he shall master for life,

"But if the wife should drink of it first,
Heaven help the husband then !"*

The stranger stooped to the well of St. Keyne,
And drank of the waters again.

"You drank of the well, I warrant, betimes?"

He to the countryman said.

But the countryman smiled as the stranger spake, And sheepishly shook his head.

"I hastened, as soon as the wedding was done, And left my wife in the porch.

But i' faith, she had been wiser than me,

For she took a bottle to church."

Robert Southey.

FARM-YARD SONG.

OVER the hill the farm-boy goes:
His shadow lengthens along the land,
A giant staff in giant hand;
In the poplar-tree above the spring
The katydid begins to sing;

The early dews are falling:

Into the stone-heap darts the mink,
The swallows skim the river's brink,
And home to the woodland fly the crows,
When over the hill the farm-boy goes,
Cheerily calling—

"Co', boss! co', boss! co' ! co'! co' !" Farther, farther over the hill,

Faintly calling, calling still

"Co', boss! co', boss! co'! co' !"

Into the yard the farmer goes,

With grateful heart, at the close of day:
Harness and chain are hung away;

In the wagon-shed stand yoke and plough;
The straw's in the stack, the hay in the mow;
The cooling dews are falling:

The friendly sheep his welcome bleat,
The pigs come grunting to his feet,
The whinnying mare her master knows,

When into the yard the farmer goes,

His cattle calling—

"Co', boss! co', boss! co'! co' ! co' !" While still the cow-boy, far away,

Goes seeking those that have gone astray"Co', boss! co', boss! co' ! co' !"

Now to her task the milkmaid goes;
The cattle come crowding through the gate,
Lowing, pushing, little and great;
About the trough, by the farm-yard pump,
The frolicsome yearlings frisk and jump,
While the pleasant dews are falling :

The new milch heifer is quick and shy,
But the old cow waits with tranquil eye;
And the white stream into the bright pail flows,
When to her task the milkmaid goes,

Soothingly calling

"So, boss! so, boss! so! so! so!"