Till checked by a sudden exhaustion; Then-slowly her way she pursued. Weak and fainting at heart she crept onward, Till, reaching the pawn-shop's dark threshold, "Where's the money, the money? oh, curse you! Till my breath felt crushed under a weight; My boots, I'd have pledged them to serve you. But just as I reached the 'Pawn' door, "Twas shut in my face- "You lie, Lotty! Take that!"-and she swooned on the floor. Yes, he lifted his clenched fist and struck her,- Then placed her upon her straw pallet, "Oh, you wont die, sweet Lotty!--speak!--say so!" Oh, speak, Lotty!-speak! I'm your father! "Don't die! for my sake, dearest Lotty, Live to see me reclaimed from this curse Which binds me in fetters of madness Than slave-chains a thousand times worse; I'll struggle to break them forever, To see me become a new man!" As beauty and peace are prefigured, "No, father, 'twas not you that struck me, "To be with you, and comfort you, father, But, just now, do you know, I saw mother, Have you not one sweet word for her, father? "Lotty, tell her I've signed it!—yes, signed it!— A smile lit the wan face of Lotty, A smile that was not of this earth, Where he sent Lotty's message of grace. A SERMON ON LIFE.-ROBERT J. BURDETTE. Man born of woman is of few days and no teeth, and indeed it would be money in his pocket sometimes if he had less of either. As for his teeth he had convulsions when he cut them, and as the last one comes through, lo! the dentist is twisting the first one out, and the last end of that man's jaw is worse than the first, being full of porcelain and a roof-plate built to hold blackberry seeds. Stone-bruises line his pathway to manhood; his father boxes his ears at home, the big boys cuff him in the playground and the teacher whips him in the school-room. He buyeth Northwestern at 1.10, when he hath sold short at ninety-six, and his neighbors unloadeth upon him Iron Mountain at sixty-three and five-eighths, and it straightway breaketh down to fifty-two and one-fourth. He riseth early and sitteth up late that he may fill his barns and storehouses, and lo! his children's lawyers. divide the spoils among themselves and say: "Ha! ha! He groaneth and is sore distressed because it raineth, and he beateth upon his breast and sayeth "My crop is lost!" because it raineth not. The late rains blight his wheat and the frost biteth his peaches. If it be so that the sun shineth, even among the nineties, he sayeth, "Woe is me, for I perish!" and if the northwest wind sigheth down in forty-two below, he crieth, "Would I were dead!" If he wears sackcloth and blue jean, men say "He is a tramp," and if he goeth forth shaven and clad in purple and fine linen, all the people cry: "Shoot the dude!" He carrieth insurance for twenty-five years, until he hath paid thrice over for all his goods, and then he letteth his policy lapse one day, and that same night fire destroyeth his store. He buildeth him a house in Jersey, and his first-born is devoured by mosquitos. He pitcheth his tents in New York, and tramps devour his substance. He moveth to Kansas, and a cyclone carryeth his house away over into Missouri, while a prairie fire and tenmillion acres of grasshoppers fight for his crop. He settleth himself in Kentucky, and is shot the next day by a gentleman, a colonel and a statesman-because, sah, he resembles, sah, a man, sah, he did not like, sah. Verily, there is no rest for the sole of his feet, and if he had to do it over again he would not be born at all, for "the day of death is better than the day of one's birth." PATTIN' JUBA.-FRANCES E WADLeigh. "Pattin' juba," is the darky expression or a shuffling dance, in which the handa accompany the motion with a rhythmic patting. Wuffaw yo' look a' me laike dat I aint a doin' nuffin! P'yurs laike yo' t'ink dis chile am flat 1 knows my shu't he full o' holes, My laigs, mam' say, is jes' laike poles, Wuffaw yo' w'ite folks alluz t'inkin' Brudduh Jones he say awn Sunday 1 knows my shu't be full o' holes, My laigs, mam' say, is jes' laike poles, • Fi' cents fuh me? Jes' caze I dance? Dis nigguh gwine fuh kick an' prance, HOW THE BEES CAME BY THEIR STING. CARLOTTA PERRY. The honey-bees on Mount Hymettus, long and long ago, Had made some noney from the very sweetest flowers that grow; It was very clear, translucent, and golden in its hue, It tasted of the sunshine, the roses, and the dew. It seemed as though all gracious things had entered into it, Therefore without dissenting, it quickly was conceded That when I speak of Jupiter, I am including Juno). So up to Mount Olympus, to Jupiter the Great, From the lips of lily blossoms and the heart of clover-blooms; As the sweetness of the lilies or the freshness of the dew. And with humble admiration, we beg that you will let us At the feet of Mount Olympus lay the heart of Mount Hymettus." From all of which remarks it is plainly to be seen That she was a very eloquent, poetical bee queen. And Jupiter, admiring, unto himself avers That his kindness and politeness at least shall equal hers. And so, with many a winning smile and many a gracious bow, He accepted her fair offering, explaining to her how tion. Besides, he gave a banquet to the gods that night, and so She could see with half an effort that her gift was apropos. He was very kind and gracious, and, at last, in reckless pleasure, And wishing to make fit return in full and ample measure, Declared that he would deem it a very happy task To give to her for all her kind, the gift that she might ask. "So ask ye, gentle queen," he said, "unfearing, and straight way Your desire shall be granted, let the same be what it may." |