He drove his spurs into his steed, the jaded beast reeled to and fro,

Then forward plunged adown the cliff, a thousand awful feet below.

Around their forms were fiercely whirled, the living man, the maiden dead,

With arms entwined they left the world-the waters rippled overhead.

Still forward flows the river Rhine, in grandeur to the north

ern sea:

The mountain peaks in splendor shine, the moonbeams fall on tower and tree.

The castle halls now look forlorn, their walls are crumbling to decay,

New human hearts and hopes are born, the Saxon kings have passed away.

But love remains to bless the world, love is immortal and sublime;

The autumn leaves are tossed and whirled, the snowflakes fall in winter time;

Our dearly loved ones droop and die as summer blossoms fade and fall;

Beyond the brilliant clouds on high they wait with love to greet us all.

Love lives beyond the stars that beam by night within the silent skies,

More pure and fair than poet's dream or vision seen by human eyes;

No worldly pride, no forms, no place can sunder souls in heaven above,

Who meet each other face to face in one eternal day of love.

THE INEVITABLE. SARAH K. BOLTON.

I like the man who faces what he must
With step triumphant, and a heart of cheer:
Who fights the daily battle without fear;
Sees his hopes fail, yet keeps unfaltering trust
That God is God; that somehow, true and just,
His plans work out for mortals; not a tear

Is shed when fortune, which the world holds dear,
Falls from his grasp; better, with love, a crust
Than living in dishonor; envies not,

Nor loses faith in man; but does his best,

Nor ever murmurs at his humbler lot,

But with a smile and words of hope, gives zest

To every toiler; he alone is great,

Who by a life heroic conquers fate.

A DRUMHEAD COURT-MARTIAL.

We had crossed the river to hunt for Lee and give him battle in the wilderness. Darkness was just settling down, and the advance had halted for the night, when a squad of cavalry brought in a young man from our front. He wore a mixed uniform, as did most of the Confederates at that day, or as did most of those belonging to the partisan commands. He had on blue trousers, a butternut jacket and a hat that belonged to either side. They said he was a spy. They said it carelessly enough, but there was an awful significance in the term at that hour. In camp he would have been searched, interrogated and imprisoned. It might have been weeks before his trial, and he would have been allowed every chance for his life.

We were on the march. There had been fighting. There would be more to-morrow. That meant a drumhead trial for the spy.

How speedily everything was arranged. I was at headquarters and saw and heard it all. Within half an hour a court-martial was convened,-grave-faced officers who looked into the face of the young man at first with interest, then with something like admiration. I said young man. I was wrong. He was a boy of seventeen or eighteen. He had big blue eyes, chestnut curls, and his cheeks were as smooth as a girl's. He was a handsome lad, and I believe that every man in the tent felt to pity him.

"What's your name?"

"James Blank."

"What regiment?"

No reply.

"Are you a citizen or soldier?"

No reply.

"Have you any defense to the charge of being a spy?" No reply.

The officers looked at each other and nodded, and the

president waved his hand. It didn't seem a minute be fore a file of soldiers came. The face of the boy grew white, but he moved like one in a dream. His big blue eyes looked upon one after another, as if searching for a friend, and my heart yearned to cry out that he was only a boy and ought to be given more time.

Tramp! Tramp! Tramp!

It was the detail marching him off into the darkness. "Halt! Tie this handkerchief over his eyes!" They had brought a lantern. By its light I saw the big blue eyes for the last time as they looked around in a dazed way. I wanted to shout to the boy and warn him that it was not even yet too late to prove that he was not what they believed him to be, but the grimness of the scene parched my tongue.

"Place him there! Fall back! Attention! Readyaim-fire!"

Ten minutes later the officer in charge of the firing party touched his cap and reported:

"Orders have been executed, sir!"

"Any further evidence?"

"No, sir; except that she was a young woman!"

LATCHES.-CHARLES N. SINNETT.

When I was young and went to school
In a far-distant town,

The schoolma'am's ear-rings brightly shone,
She wore a red-flowered gown,
And I to her smiled sweetly up,
And she to me smiled down.

She said, "I'm glad to see you here,
Like your Uncle Mark you look;
You'll quickly learn your A, B, abs,
Read Webster's Spelling Book,
And add, substract, and multiply."
My hand she gently shook.

She had an oaken ferule long,
Which did towards many whiz,

But always would she gaze on me
With a benignant phiz,

And in my heart I murmured low,
"This school, how good it is!"

And when my mother did me send
To Uncle Mark's red store,
I said, "I have a teacher fine!"

His face a quick smile wore;
A stick of gum he handed me,

And said, "I'll give you more."

Teachers in those days "boarded round,"
And, when it came our "turn,"
I picked some strawberries for sauce,
The spare-room decked with fern,
That the "ma'am" might see how tenderly
My heart towards her did burn.

When school was out that very day,
She walked along the shore,
And bade me hasten home to ma
While she went to the store;
She said a better latch should be
Upon the schoolhouse door.

I ran to meet her when she came,
But could no purchase see,

And when I asked, "Did you get one?"
She said, "You're rather free,

But your Uncle Mark will bring to-night
The article to me."

As he was lame it did indeed

Seem very, very rude,

To make him walk a mile that way!

But like a laddie good

.I went and milked the old black cow,
And split the kindling wood.

At last my Uncle Mark arrived,
Bearing a package white:

I suddenly quite sleepy felt,

And closed my eyelids tight,

But heard one ask, "Wilt thou be mine?"

And the other say, "All right!"

In two short weeks the "ma'am" resigned,-
Tears to my eyes did start!

As my Aunt Ann she scarce knew me

In lane or crowded mart,

I fear she used me as a latch

To open Uncle's heart!

THE FIFE.-Gilbert L. Eberhart.

Warlike fife!

Ah, how rife,

With the battle's stormy strife

Are thy sharp reverberations as they ripple into life.

And we hear,

Far and near,

Falling on the startled ear,

All the piercing undulations of thy music, shrill and clear.

As the notes exulting, screaming, from thy throat are rattling hence:

And a thrill

Which no will,

And no force of human skill,

Like thy voice's ring of valor, can the soul with daring fill

And the peal

Which we feel,

Like a blade of keenest steel

Crashing through the head that's loyal, cutting through the heart that's leal,

Brings unrest

To the breast,

As we see in battle prest

All the brave and gory legions that thy call hath sent to rest. In thy tones

Hear we groans,

And the deep and wailing moans

Of the heroes who at Concord and at Monmouth left their

bones.

And again,

On the plain

Of Antietam's iron rain,

Hear thy voice defiant swelling o'er the battle's wail of pain.