aim at the heart, and replaces it again over the wounds of the poniard! To finish the picture, he explores the wrist for the pulse! he feels it, and ascertains that it beats no longer! It is accomplished the deed is done! He retreats, retraces his steps to the window, passes out through it as he came in, and escapes. He has done the murder; no eye has seen him; no ear has heard him; the secret is his own, and he is safe! Ah, gentlemen, that was a dreadful mistake! Such a secret can be safe nowhere. The whole creation of God has neither nook nor corner where the guilty can bestow it, and say it is safe! Not to speak of that Eye which glance through all disguises, and beholds everything as in the splen dor of TIU 100 και το ituat The soft complaining flute In dying notes discovers The woes of hapless lovers, Whose dirge is whispered by the warbling lute. Sharp violins proclaim. Their jealous pangs, and desperation, Fury, frantic indignation, Depths of pain and height of passion, For the fair disdainful dame. But, O! what art can teach, But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher; DRYDEN. THE WONDERFUL "ONE-HOSS SHAY.” HAVE you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay, That was built in such a logical way It ran a hundred years to a day, And then, of a sudden, it Ah, but stay, Frightening people out of their wits- Seventeen hundred and fifty-five, It was on the terrible Earthquake-day Now, in building of chaises, I tell you what, But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do, With an "I dew vum or an "I tell yeou") — He would build one shay to beat the taown 'N' the keounty 'n' all the kentry raoun'; It should be so built that it couldn't break daown: "Fur," said the Deacon, "it's mighty plain Thut the weakes' place mus' stan' the strain, 'N' the way t' fix it, uz I maintain, Is only jest To make that place uz strong uz the rest.” So the Deacon inquired of the village folk The hubs from logs from the "Settler's ellum" Never an axe had seen their chips, And the wedges flew from between their lips, Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw, Thoroughbrace bison-skin, thick and wide; Do! I tell 66 naow she'll dew!" you, I rather guess She was a wonder, and nothing less! where were they? But there stood the stout old one-hoss shay, Eighteen hundred - it came, and found Eighteen hundred, increased by ten- Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year (This is a moral that runs at large: Take it. You're welcome. No extra charge.) First of November-the Earthquake-day. But nothing local, as one may say. There couldn't be · for the Deacon's art Had made it so like in every part That there wasn't a chance for one to start. For the wheels were just as strong as the thills, First of November, 'Fifty-five! "Huddup!" said the parson, Off went they, At what the · Moses The parson was working his Sunday text- What do you think the parson found, O. W. HOLMES. IRISH ALIENS AND ENGLISH VICTORIES. even I SHOULD be surprised, indeed, if, while you are doing us wrong, you did not profess your solicitude to do us justice. From the day on which Strongbow set his foot upon the shore of Ireland, Englishmen were never wanting in protestations of their deep anxiety to do us justice; Strafford, the deserter of the people's cause, the renegade Wentworth, who gave evidence in Ireland of the spirit of instinctive tyranny which predominated in his character, even Strafford, while he trampled upon our rights, and trod upon the heart of the country, protested his solicitude to do justice to Ireland! What marvel is it, then, that gentlemen |