were yet furiously breaking over her; ice had formed on various parts of the deck, bulwarks, and rigging; bodies were frozen stark and stiff. All was as silent as the grave-not a living soul in sight on board. But few bodies were washed ashore until the next day, and one had been thrown up near where I stood. I leaned and reached forward and drew it in. It was the body of a man; his overcoat had been twisted over the face, and was stiff with a casing of ice. We turned the corpse over, loosened the garment, and drew it down, showing the face.

"Merciful God! it was our Jamie! As we were afterward informed by a shipmate of his, he had planned it to come home and surprise us Christmas Day."

The old man sobbed a moment or two, and then exclaimed: "Yes, our Jamie did come home, and he did surprise us, but what a sad surprise it was. You will not wonder now I remember so well the night of the wreck of the Atlantic, when our Jamie came home."

HE DIDN'T AMOUNT TO SHUCKS.*
SAM WALTER FOSS.

There was Bijah, Ben an' Bart,

Who war smart;

Sons of old Abijah Blander-
See his house 'way over yander,
Whar yer see that long-necked gander

On the cart?

But Bill the younges' watched the ducks,
Because he didn't amount to shucks.

I tell ye, Bijah, Ben an' Bart

Did their part!

W'y, ye never see sich bustlers,
Never see sich tarnal hustlers;
They wuz reg'lar roarin' rustlers-
They war smart!

But Bill he useter loaf an' stop,
An' loll, an' lallaga an' gawp.

From "The Yankee Blade," by permission of the Author.

An' Bill wuz lazy, so they said,
An' half dead;

Never useter laugh an' holler,
Never tried to make a dollar,
But he wuz a fust-rate scholar-
A great head!

He'd take some tarnal books an' shirk,
An' let his brothers do the work.

An' they sent Bill to General Court

Curus sport!

An' he with them air legislaters,

Men, I s'pose, uv sim'lar natur's,
Who thort he wuz some pertaters,
Held the fort.

His speeches wuz so full er snap
They struck 'em like a thunder clap.

He talked so well an' knew so much,
Books an' such,

Thet now he lives away up yander
In the State House --quite a gander-
An' folks call him Governor Blander.

It's too much!

The chap who useter watch the ducks
Because he didn't amount to shucks!

But what uv Bijah, Ben and Bart,
Who war smart?

Never fear thet they'll forsake us―
Bige an' Ben are good shoemakers.
Bart he drives Josiah Baker's

Butcher cart.

An' all three brag about the ducks
An' Bill who didn't amount to shucks.

A DUDE-JOSEPH BERT SMILEY.

A dude from Chicago* went north one July,
Ah, there!

This dandy dude's collar was three inches high,
Ah, there!

His cuffs were too long, and his gloves were too light,
His mouth was too big and his hands were too white,
His hat was too tall and his pants were too tight,

*Change to suit locality.

Ah, there!

This dude from Chicago went out for a ride,
Ah, there!

Of a mean little mustang he sat him astride,
Ah, there!

The pony, when spurred, like a wild spirit fled,
But soon made a halt, stood the dude on his head-
And a wicked young cub in a meat wagon said,
"Ah, there!"

AN HOUR WITH WHITTIER.-PHEBE A. HOLDER.

"I have never been in any place so dark that Whittier's poetry could not light it up."

Poet beloved, again I come

On thy sweet verse to ponder,
And linger o'er thy soulful words,
The while my heart grows fonder!
"Among the Hills" I walk with thee,
Reading the dear home story
When autumn comes with golden-rod
"Heavy with Sunshine" glory.
Within the "Tent Upon the Beach"
I sit with joy to listen

To lords of thought, while peaceful waves
In molten gold light glisten.

I see the "School-House by the Road,"
The eager children leaving,

The little girl who "spelt the word,"
The tender face of grieving.

The "Hazel Blossoms" gleam with gold,
In fresher beauty glowing,

Touched by the Poet's loving hand,
Woven in verses flowing.

The "Last Walk in the Autumn" days,

After the regal splendor,
Reveals a charm his eye discerns,

A lingering grace and tender.

When "Snow Bound" by the wintry storm
The tale of farm-life olden

I read, and find the day has flown
Winged as with sunbeams golden.
The "Pageant" rings its silver bells
With light of crystal morning,

The "tree bolls chandeliers of frost"
Hold up with sunrise dawning;
"A glimpse of glory infinite"

Comes to my raptured vision,

The "white bride coming down from heaven"
Clothed with a grace elysian.

"My Psalm" is like a soft, dear voice
Soothing to peaceful slumbers;
I listen, while my heart anew

Life's full rich blessings numbers.
"My Psalm,”-it is like finest gold
Among my garnered treasure;
With chords attuned, my soul responds
Unto the pure-toned measure,―
The heart's sweet scripture to be read
At night, when love grows fonder;
An added verse to heavenly word,
With hallowed thought I ponder.

"Eternal Goodness" like a chime
Of silver bells is ringing,
The loving kindness of the Lord
Seems nearer for thy singing.
I read with answering heart and mind
To see in bright "Clear Vision"
New beauty in familiar things
Glowing with light elysian;

"My Triumph" with its stirring words
Of "richer life where beauty"

Is touched with finer grace and walks
Still "hand in hand with Duty."

No place so dark but thy glad songs
Can make the dull day brighter,

No heavy burden but thy words

Can make the load seem lighter.

Like wood thrush sweet whose liquid notes
"Set the wild echoes" ringing,

So "echoes roll from soul to soul"
With music of thy singing.
Enthroned in hearts, thy crown is set
With jewels brightly glowing,—

The love of myriad lives made sweet,
The pure rich lustre showing.

-Journal of Education

A SHADOW FROM AN INSANE ASYLUM.*

HORACE B. DURANT.

The following sketch is founded on fact, and occurred when the subject of in quests and insane asylums was less understood than at the present day, am when abuses were more easily practiced.

John Brown had lands and gold enough, they say,

But thinking he might squander them away,
As it without the slightest cause was feared,
A "mutual friend" to Brown and wife appeared
In court one day, to ask that a decree
Be granted to inquire Brown's sanity.

Twelve men accordingly convened, and swore
To search Brown's brain, and try to find the door
Through which his wits escaped. Unto their aid
A doctor, too, was called, of course, who laid
Down rules to guide them; for he knew the laws,
And, in a former trade, had handled saws;
And, it was said, once knew the "Rule of Three,"
Quite well enough to hew an axletree!
Yet, lest the twelve might fail to understand
His learned depths, he brought to his command
The sciences-a very happy hit-

At once to awe them and to air his wit.
He showed them very plain, that many spheres
Revolved within the brain, and, "it appears,"
He sagely said, "that two of these at least,
Are hemispheres. All know," said he, “that yeast
Will rise and often overrun all bounds-
And, gentlemen," continued he, "by zounds!
The laws of chemistry will prove that brain
Ferments at times-that fact is very plain;
Indeed the present case is thus explained,
His tin-pan-um is cracked-he is crack-brained!
Here, through anatomy he boldly dashed,
While learning from both word and gesture flashed,
As on he soared through os and cranium

Until his gaping auditors were dumb!

In fact, 'tis doubtful where he would have stopped,
Had not the door 'gainst which his chair was propped,

No longer having strength or will to bear

At once his weighty logic and his chair,

All sudden opened inwards like a flash,

And doctor, chair and all, went with a crash *Written expressly for this Collection.