And I thought of homely proverbs that on simple lips had

birth,

Born of gentle superstitions at old firesides of the earth:

How, where'er the swallow builded under human roofs its nest,

Something holier, purer, higher, in the house became a guest;

Peace, or Love, or Health, or Fortune,-something prosperous, from the air,

'Lighting with the wings of swallows, breathed divine possession there.

"Friendly gods," I said, "descending, make their gentle visits so,

Fill the air with benedictions,-songs above and songs below!"

Then I murmured, "Welcome, swallow; I, your landlord, stand content:

Even if song were not sufficient, higher Tenants pay your

rent!"

JOHN J. PIATT.

Of American elegies we have nothing finer than the tribute paid by Fitz-Greene Halleck to Joseph Rodman Drake:

Green be the turf above thee,

Friend of my better days!
None knew thee but to love thee,
Nor named thee but to praise.

Tears fell, when thou wert dying,
From eyes unused to weep,

And long, where thou art lying,
Will tears the cold turf steep.

When hearts, whose truth was proven,
Like thine, are laid in earth,

There should a wreath be woven
To tell the world their worth;

And I, who woke each morrow
To clasp thy hand in mine,
Who shared thy joy and sorrow,
Whose weal and woe were thine,-

It should be mine to braid it
Around thy faded brow;
But I've in vain essayed it,
And feel I cannot now.

While memory bids me weep thee,
Nor thoughts nor words are free:
The grief is fixed too deeply

That mourns a man like thee.

A thoughtful strain from a poetess of the West, in which a class usually left to bear and suffer unsung is brought within the circle of poetic sentiment, may fitly close our series:

THE DISAPPOINTED.

There are songs enough for a hero
Who dwells on the heights of fame:

I sing for the disappointed,

For those who missed their aim.

I sing with a tearful cadence

For one who stands in the dark

And knows that his last, best arrow
Has bounded back from the mark.

I sing for the breathless runner,
The eager, anxious soul,

Who falls with his strength exhausted
Almost in sight of the goal;

For the hearts that break in silence
With a sorrow all unknown,-
For those who need companions,
Yet walk their ways alone.

There are songs enough for the lovers
Who share love's tender pain:
I sing for the one whose passion
Is given and in vain.

For those whose spirit-comrades
Have missed them on the way
I sing, with a heart o'erflowing,
This minor strain to-day.

And I know the solar system
Must somewhere keep in space
A prize for that spent runner
Who barely lost the race.

For the plan would be imperfect
Unless it held some sphere
That paid for the toil and talent
And love that are wasted here.

ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.

THE THEORY OF LAND-TAXATION.

HENRY GEORGE.

[In these days, when political economy has become a popular science, the advent of an able and forcible writer upon social and industrial questions is an event of importance. Such a writer is Henry George, whose industrial theories have risen into great prominence, partly from the fact that they deal with questions in which an intense and wide-spread interest is felt, and partly from the clearness with which they are presented in his ably-written pages. His "Progress and Poverty" struck the industrial world with the force of a new revelation, and though its theories are controverted by political economists, and the conclusions which he reaches do not seem necessary consequences of his premises, they are so plausibly presented, and hold out such alluring pictures of the future of industry, that they have been enthusiastically accepted by many of the working-classes. His main theory is that the land belongs to mankind as a whole, that individuals originally acquired possession of it by force or fraud, to which no length of possession or diversity of transfer can give legal warrant, and that it is the duty of governments, as representatives of their people, to resume possession of all land and manage it for the best good of the population as a whole. This result is to be attained by a taxation upon land equal to its whole rental value, so that it would be impossible to sell it, and every holder would be forced to use his land productively or abandon it. This rent is to be the only form of taxation, all other property being released from governmental obligations. There is much that is plausible and alluring in this scheme, though it is not easy to see how, after all the land is occupied, the rest of mankind is to be benefited thereby, otherwise than by the remission of taxes. Mr. George was born in Philadelphia in 1849. He went to California in 1858, and after 1866 became a journalist in San Francisco. His principal books are "Our Land and Land Policy," "Progress and Poverty," ," "The Irish Land Question," "Social Problems," and "Free Trade and Protection." His speeches on economic questions attracted much attention in Great Britain.]

THE elder Mirabeau, we are told, ranked the proposition of Quesnay, to substitute one single tax on rent (the im

post unique) for all other taxes, as a discovery equal in utility to the invention of writing or the substitution of the use of money for barter.

To whoever will think over the matter, this saying will appear an evidence of penetration rather than of extravagance. The advantages which would be gained by substituting for the numerous taxes by which the public revenues are now raised, a single tax levied upon the value of land, will appear more and more important the more they are considered. This is the secret which would transform the little village into the great city. With all the burdens removed which now oppress industry and hamper exchange, the production of wealth would go on with a rapidity now undreamed of. This, in its turn, would lead to an increase in the value of land,-a new surplus which society might take for general purposes. And, released from the difficulties which attend the collection of revenue in a way that begets corruption and renders legislation the tool of special interests, society could assume functions which the increasing complexity of life makes it desirable to assume, but which the prospect of political demoralization under the present system now leads thoughtful men to shrink from.

Consider the effect upon the production of wealth.

To abolish the taxation which, acting and reacting, now hampers every wheel of exchange and presses upon every form of industry, would be like removing an immense weight from a powerful spring. Imbued with fresh energy, production would start into new life, and trade would receive a stimulus which would be felt to the remotest arteries. The present method of taxation operates upon exchange like artificial deserts and mountains; it costs more to get goods through a custom-house than it does to carry them round the world. It operates upon