These terrible, last few years seem just like a dream to me, And I almost think I'll wake and find our home as it used to be, My husband happy and loving-our children merry and bright, And now-Oh, what is the good of the law, if our wrongs it does not right!

Little by little the demon crept into this home of ours

O, sir! upon your knees thank God, if you never felt it's

powers

If you never saw a loved one drawn, as if by a fatal spell, Till day after day, and night after night, were spent in a drinking hell.

I cannot tell my anguish as those days and nights passed by; I know 'tis the hardest part of life to see one's husband die,But to see him in a drunkard's death all other deaths seem

light;

I wish a few of our landlords could have stood by him that night.

Men in the best society, who blocks of property own,

Who once had hearts of flesh, which money has turned to stone; Men who own their pews in church-perhaps, if they could be At one of the deaths they help to make, their eyes would open and see.

Men who roll in money from the rents which they receive,
Taken from starving families-O sir! I surely believe
That God, in righteous judgment-hating oppression and
wrong,

Is releasing us from their bondage-this slavery borne so long.

And to-day, in the name of my children who are starving, I come to you,

That you may sue for the money that to them is justly due; I come in the name of the happy home that millions could not restore;

I come in a murdered husband's name-Oh, what can I say more !

I come in the name of a broken heart, that money can never heal;

I come in the name of a righteous God, from whom there is no appeal

In the name of all that was dear in life, bitter though I may be Sue these property owners for the thousands they owe to me,

I know there are some of our rich men who think this law is wrong,

Who are trying to have it "modified," and plenty will help them along.

What to them is a drunkard's life, if his money has helped to

pay

The rents which they and their families spend in pleasure every day!

Lawyer, I'll not detain you-this story is old to you,

I'll leave my cause in your hands, sir-please see what you can do.

And I'll pay you what I can,-and will bless you all the same, If you fail after doing your best to win,-in my little children's From the Ohio State Journal.

name.

EULOGY ON LAFAYETTE.-CHARLES SPRAGUE.

WHILE we bring our offerings for the mighty of our own laud, shall we not remember the chivalrous spirits of other shores, who shared with them the hour of weakness and woel Pile to the clouds the majestic column oʻ glory; let the lips of those who can speak well, hallow each spot where the bones of your bold repose; but forget not those who, with your bold, went out to battle!

Among these men of noble daring, there was one, a young and gallant stranger, who left the blushing vinehills of his delightful France. The people whom he came to succor were not his people; he knew them only in the melancholy story of their wrongs. He was no mercenary wretch, striving for the spoil of the vanquished; the palace acknowledged him for its lord, and the valleys yielded him their increase. He was no nameless man, staking life for reputation; he ranked among nobles, and looked anawed upon kings. He was no friendless outcast, seeking for a grave to hide his cold heart; he was girdled by the companions of his childhood; his kinsmen were about him; his wife was before him.

Yet from all those he turned away and come. Like & lofty tree, that shakes down its green glories to battle with the winter's storm, he flung aside the trappings of place and pride to crusade for Freedom, in Freedom's holy land. He came; but not in the day of successful rebellion; not when the new-risen sun of-Independence

NUMBER SIX.

Lad burst the cloud of time, and carcered to its place in the heavens. He came when darkness curtained the hills, and the tempest was abroad in its anger; when the plough stood still in the field of promise, and briers cumbered the garden of beauty; when fathers were dying, and mothers were weeping over them; when the wife was binding up the gashed bosom of her husband, and the maiden was wiping the death-damp from the brow of her lover. He came when the brave began to fear the power of man, and the pious to doubt the favor of God.

It was then that this one joined the ranks of a revolted people. Freedom's little phalanx bade him a grateful welcome. With them he courted the battle's rage; with theirs, his arm was lifted; with theirs, his blood was shed. Long and doubtful was the conflict. At length, kind Heaven smiled on the good cause, and the beaten invaders fled. The profane were driven from the temple of Liberty, and, at her pure shrine, the pilgrim warrior, with his adored commiander, knelt and worshipped. Leaving there his offering, the incense of an uncorrupted spirit, he at length arose, and, crowned with benedictions, turned his happy feet toward his long-deserted home.

After nearly fifty years, that one has come again. Can mortal tongue tell, can mortal heart feel the sublimity of that coming? Exulting millions rejoice in it; and the long, loud, transporting shout, like the mingling of many winds, rolls on, undying, to Freedom's furthest mountains. A congregated nation comes around him. Old men bless him and children reverence him. The lovely come out to look upon him; the learned deck their halls to greet him; the rulers of the land rise up to do him homage. How his full heart labors! He views the rusting trophies of departed days; he treads upon the high places where his brethren moulder; he bends before the tomb of his father; his words are tears, the speech of sad remembrance. · But he looks around upon a ransomed land and a joyous race; be bebolds the blessings, those trophies secured, for which those brethren died, for which that father lived; and again his words are tears, the eloquence of gratitude and joy.

Spread forth creation like a map; bid earth's dead multitude revive; and of all the pageants that ever glittered to the sun, when looked his burning eye on a sight like

47

this! Of all the myriads that have come and gone, what cherished minion ever ruled an hour like this! Many have struck the redeeming blow for their own freedom; but who, like this man, has bared his bosom in the cause of strangers? Others have lived in the love of their own people; but who, like this man, has drunk his sweetest cup of welcome with another? Matchless chief! Of glory's immortal tablets, there is one for him, for him alone! Oblivion shall never shroud its splendor; the everlasting flame of liberty shall guard it that the genera tions of men may repeat the name recorded there, the beloved name of Lafayette.

HINTS ON HEALTH.

FIRST of all, see to it that you start right. It is vitally important. Avoid all hereditary taints. Be continually anxious about yourself. Remember we are fearfully and wonderfully made, and this curious mechanism may at any moment get out of repair. It may break down altogether. This is death.

Be on the look out for symptoms. They generally precede a disease. Consult your pulse every half hour, and make sure by frequent personal observation that your tongue isn't coated. You should weigh yourself at least once a day, though it is not necessary to test your lungs more than once a week. Keep your feet and your friend ships warm.

Food is very important. No man can live long without it. That Chinamen succeed in doing it, and laying up money besides, proves nothing. Your food should be taken in moderation, avoiding over-eating, to which one is very prone when dining at somebody else's expense; and equally cautious not to eat too little, unless you happen to occupy a seat at a cheap boarding house. A good, plain, nutritious diet is what you want. Mention it to your landlady, and you'll probably get it.

I cannot lay down any special rules as to what you'd

better eat.

Breadstuffs are bad. Never eat bread. The process by which the article is rendered light and white is very deleterious to health. Never eat hot-cakes-nor cold ones. Corn bread is fatal. Take to the wheat in grain; carry some in your pockets, and chew the food na ture designed for you. If your teeth are bad, or you have none, soak the wheat in castor oil.

For dinner, you want something substantial-pork, for example. If you choose pork, stick to it right through the year; many a man has built himself up in the pork packing business; and then abrupt changes are danger

ous.

For tea, something very light should be taken, such as lobsters and milk, cucumbers and ice cream, or cold mince pie, pickles and hard cider. Then for lunch (which is to be eaten, of course, immediately before going to bed,) we have always found plenty of sourkrout, Welsh rabbit, pickled walnuts, hot saleratus biscuit, with London porter and green tea, very agreeable and soothing.

Take plenty of exercise in the open air, or in a treadmill, if well ventilated. Join a circus. Walking is excellent; so running, particularly, if you can run ahead of your ticket.

THE JOLLY OLD PEDAGOGUE.-GEORGE ARNOLD.

'Twas a jolly old pedagogue, long ago,
Tall and slender, and sallow, and dry;
His form was bent, and his gait was slow,
His long, thin hair was as white as snow;
But a wonderful twinkle shone in his eye,

And he sang every night as he went to bed,

"Let us be happy down here below;

The living should live, though the dead be dead,”
Said the jolly old pedagogue, long ago.

He taught his scholars the rule of three,
Writing, and reading, and history too,
Taking the little ones on his knee,

For a kind old heart in his breast had he,
And the wants of the smallest child he knew: