"Jack!--was a-comin'--to meet you-at the prison gates. They told me-where-you was caged, and I walked across-the Park,-an' I rested 'ere, becos-Igot tired, an'-so weak-an' I think I fell asleep. JackJack-do you hear the bells-the Christmas bells?" "Yes, Charlie; 'tis Christmas morning."

66 Jack, tell me-once more-1 -the tale you 'eard-in the 'orspital-about the Woman an'-the Child.” An' I told 'im.

The little 'ands on the cage loosed their clutch, an' down it fell. As it fell, the door come open, an' up, up, through the snow went Charlie's bird.

An' up through the snow-free at last-went the soul of little Charlie, up to the child Jesus.

Down on my knees I fell, an' one 'and I raised towards the little flyin' bird, an' one 'and I laid on Char lie's white brow.

An' I cried, "Flown-together."

LOVE'S STRATEGY.-R. S. SHARPE,

I read of the Emperor Conrad the Third,
As pleasing a story as ever I heard;

As it may not have happened to come in your way,
Perhaps you'll allow me to tell it to-day.

"The city of Wensburg I mean to besiege,"

He said, and his soldiers said, " Do you, my liege?
We are all at your service; command, we obey."
So, "blockade and bombard" was the rule of the day.

I can't avoid saying, I think it a pity

A king should seek fame by destroying a city;
What a very small portion of glory he shares,

And how it deranges the city's affairs!

Think of peaceable citizens all at their duties,

Their wives at their needlework (bless 'em, the beauties!) To be frightened, and have the house broken to bits,

And, may be, the little ones thrown into fits,

For the purpose of raising an emperor's fame:
I hope 'tis no treason to say-"It's a shame."

You will pardon, I trust, this parenthesis long,
But one cannot be silent when people do wrong.

The firing continued, the famine began,
For all had good appetites there to a man ;
And because of the noise, as they slept not a wink,
They had more time remaining to eat and to drink.

That Conrad would conquer, the ladies knew then,
For the women oft see twice as far as the men;

So their tongues and their heads then together they laid,
And an active and eloquent senate they made.

They remained full two hours in close consultation
And during the whole of their con fabulation
No noise did they hear of ram, mortar, or ball-
Could it be the fair council was louder than all?

No, bless their kind hearts! not a word let us hear
Against ladies whose memories all must revere ;
These excellent women, my story will show,
All talked to some purpose-most women do so.
To Conrad they sent a well-written petition,
To beg him to pity their hapless condition;
Their city (and welcome) to take and to sack,
So each lady pass free--with a load on her back.

"Yes, dear little creatures," the emperor said;

"To be sure! let each load both her back and her head;
The contents of their bandboxes cannot be much,
Let them take what they will, not a thing will I touch;
They may take their whole wardrobe, and welcome, for me;

All shall pass unmolested -I sign the decree."

In beautiful order the army arrayed

In two lines a magnificent spectacle made;
Impatient the emperor cried out, "Who waits?
A flourish of trumpets, and open the gates."

The gates were thrown wide, the procession began,
Five hundred fair ladies, each bearing-a man.

'Twas her husband, her person thus proud to bedeck,
With his arms, where they ought to be, round his wife's neck!

"Tis said that the emperor melted to tears

At the sight of these ladies thus saving their dears;
Relinquished his spoils, spared the citizens' lives,
And pardoned the men for the sake of their wives.

AND THE BAND PLAYED.-MAURICE E. MCLAUGHLIN

'Twas at a ball they met one night;
She seemed as sweetly fair
As poet's wildest, fondest dream;
Her lovely sun-kissed hair
Curled artlessly in dainty waves
Her sweet blue eyes above,
And while he gazed in ecstasy
The band played "Woman's Love."

And when he ventured to request
The favor of a dance,

She acquiesced so charmingly,

With such a well-pleased glance,
His heart beat faster than before,
No longer did he mope;

And while he “autographed” her card
The band played " Wait and Hope."

And then, when in the mazy waltz
Her form so full of grace

He pressed, and watched the blushes come
And go upon her face,

He felt as though he'd like to make

The maiden his for aye.

"But how?" he pondered, and the band

Played "Love Will Find the Way."

The dance being over they sat down
To have a little chat,

And every topic they discussed

She seemed to have down "pat."

His brain just whirled with delight,
So charming did she seem,

And while he sat enraptured, thrilled,

The band played "Love's Young Dream."

The time flew by; he took no note

Of how the hours went;

He only felt a sense of joy,

Of peace and great content;

He then and there made up his mind

To make her his forever,

And while she smiled her sweetest smile

The band played "Now or Never."

They strolled together, arm in arm,
Far from the ball-room's glare,
And found a corner in the cool
Conservatory, where,

Mid flowering plant and rustling leaves,
His form with fear vibrating,

He told her how he loved her, and
The band played, softly, "Waiting."

He said, "Oh, will you be my own
Dear, loving little wife?

And shall we drift, dear, hand in hand,
Adown the stream of life?"

She smiled again, the same sweet smile,
At all his language flowery,

Then said, "I'll be-a sister-" and
The band played "Annie Laurie."

THE MENDED VASE.-WILLIAM R. SIMS.

A beautiful, delicate, fragile vase,

The fruit of a mould that was quaint and olden,

It flashed with the charm of a subtle grace,

And gleamed with a light that was rich and golden.

A blundering hand and a careless blow

And the fragile form is crushed and shattered;

Its charm and its graces are lying low,

In a thousand fragments scattered.

And never again while the world shall stand

Can the wrong of that reckless blow be righted;

Ah! never, not e'en by an artist's hand,

Can the scattered fragments be united.

Go, paste them into their former shape,

The scars on the surface will still show traces,
And unjoined edges will stand agape
Where once stood countless graces!

And what is my life but a crystal vase

That an awkward blow has shattered and broken?

Its former beauty no touch may retrace,

And the wreck of its richness is only a token.

The pieces are fitted together again,

But the tone and the color are all unblended;

I feel, with the pang of a nameless pain,
It is only a vase that is mended.

ers.

RAISING A BEARD.

As the time for cold weather approached, Mr. Austin, who had never allowed nature to have its way in adorn ing his face with a beard, save on his upper lip, decided to eschew shaving and raise a beard. For once he decided to give the wind a chance to blow through his whiskHis acquaintance among men was extensive, and as he thought them over he was surprised to remember how many of them wore full beards. If there was any reason why he should not indulge his whiskers and wear a full beard, he was not aware of it. To be sure, he never before attempted a full beard, and so much greater the reason why he should try it.

Fully set in his purpose, he withheld his hand and let the stubble revel on his chin. For a few days no one took any notice of his face; then a friend handed him ten cents one morning.

"What's this for?" asked Austin.

"To get a shave with; you need it," was the reply. "Thanks," he replied, handing it back, "I'm letting them grow.

"Oh, excuse me, old man."

Austin was compelled to refuse several dimes from facetious friends during the next few days, until it was becoming rather tiresome, and he determined to shut off the fun in some way. To the next friend who offered him a dime to get a shave with he replied:

"Thank you, I don't want a shave; I'm letting them grow; but this will do for a cigar."

The joker laughed, but it was a short staccato laugh, devoid of genuine mirth, and Austin pocketed the silver. After he had pocketed several dimes offered by humorists, they became somewhat discouraged and ceased joking in that line. All the time, however, the beard was growing and another crop of whiskers coming on. As soon as it was plainly apparent that it was a grow-asyou-please on Austin's face the friend who had been