THE MAIDEN HUSKING CORN.

Lady.

"NOW show something not so grand,

Some pleasant rural scene;

Some breezy pastime, sketched off-hand,
Dashed in with green and gold.
For I have seen Madonnas smile,
And winged cherubim.
One must desire to be in style,
Until my eyes are dim.

Ah! here is something pleases me,
A clear-hued country morn,
A brook that lisps, an aspen tree,
A maiden husking corn."

Artist.

"I like that too; it brings to mind
A hunting season West,
Some twenty busy years behind
When fortune was unguessed.

I had a silver fowling-piece,
A jaunty hunting-dress.

They did small damage to the geese,
The pigeons suffered less;

But heart and hope were on the toss,
And trouble was unborn;

And in my strolls I came across

This maiden husking corn.

"She was an airy, wild-bird thing,
Sunbrowned from top to toe,
As swift as swallow on the wing,
As timid as the roe;

I wheedled her to come and sit
Awhile upon my knee;

I kissed the dusky, barefoot bit,
She told her grief to me.

They scolded her because she screamed
Because her frock was torn,

Because she dallied and she dreamed
When she was husking corn.

"Her sorrows were so very black
The little maiden cried,

And I declared I would come back
And she should be my bride,
And have a palace bright with gold,
Like that of Alraschid,

Where no one would know how to scold
Or dare to, if he did.

Heigho! has she a spouse to kiss

Who scolds when frocks are torn? Perhaps her sun-browned daughter is A maiden husking corn."

Lady.

"Perhaps; if so, then she were blest
To find such sweet employ;

But tell me, when you hunted West
Was it in Illinois ?

A child was there, a gypsy elf;
She met a brave huntsman

Long, long ago, who called himself
Prince Camaralzaman,

Of course, 'tis all a freak of chance,
Like tales, you will be sworn;
But, as it pleases you, I was once
A maiden husking corn."

Artist.

"Your portrait, quick; it is the truth;
Yes, now, I see it plain.

You are but little changed, in sooth,
By gems and velvet train.

The same deep eyes, yet not the same;

Ah! well a-day, for aye.

If wishes came for wealth and fame
Where would we be to-day?
Far on a Western grange, I wis.

All in a clear-hued morn.

And you would blush and I would kiss

The maiden husking corn.

J. H. BLOW.

GOD SAVE OUR NATIVE LAND.

OD save our native land,

GOD

And make her strong to stand

For truth and right.

Long may her banner wave,

Flag of the free and brave!
Thou who alone canst save,
Grant her Thy might.

Ever from sea to sea
May law and liberty
O'er all prevail.

Where'er the rivers flow,
Where'er the breezes blow,

May love and justice grow,
And never fail.

In living unity

May all her people be

Kept evermore.

From hence on every side
May freedom's swelling tide
Roll grandly, far and wide,
To every shore.

O God! to Thee we raise
Our grateful song of praise

For this glad land.

Thou didst our fathers lead,
Thou wilt their children heed,
Supplying all their need

From Thy full hand.

JULIUS H. SEELYE

66

SAUNDERS MCGLASHAN'S COURTSHIP.

AUNDERS

SAUNDER

MCGLASHAN was a hand-loom

weaver in a rural part of Scotland many years ago. Like many another Scotchman, he was strongly impressed with the desire to own the house he lived in. He bought it before he had saved money enough to pay for it, and he toiled day and night to clear the debt, but died in the struggle. When he was dying he called his son to his bedside and said: Saunders, ye're the eldest son, and ye maun be a faither to the ither bairns; see that they learn to read their Bibles and to write their names, and be gude to your mother; and, Saunders, promise me that ye'll see that the debt is paid." The son promised, and the father died, and was buried in the auld kirkyard. Years passed; the bairns were a' married and awa', and Saunders was left alone with his mother. She grew frail and old, and he nursed her with tender, conscious care. On the evening of the longest summer day she lay dying. Saunders sat at her bedside, and they opened their hearts to each other on the grandest themes. Stretching her thin hand out of the bed-clothes, she laid it on his head, now turning gray, and said: "Saunders, ye've been a gude laddie, and I'm gaun to leave ye. I bless ye, and Heaven will bless ye; for ye have dune Heaven's biddin', and honored your faither and mither. I'll see your faither the morn, and I'll tell him that the bairns are a' weel, and that the debt was paid lang or I left the earth."