An' after every verse, you know They played a little tune; I pitched it pritty middlin' high, And sister Brown-I could but look- But then she al'ays tried to do She understood the time, right through, But when she tried this mornin', oh, It kep' her head a bobbin' so, It e'en a'most came off! An' Deacon Tubbs,-he all broke down, As one might well suppose, He took one look at sister Brown, And meekly scratched his nose. He looked his hymn book through and through And then a pensive sigh he drew, And looked completely beat. An' when they took another bout, But drawed his red bandanner out, An' wiped his weepin' eyes. I've been a sister, good an' true, I've done what seemed my part to do, An' prayed my duty clear; But death will stop my voice, I know, For he is on my track; And some day, I to church will go, And when the folks get up to sing― Whene'er that time shall be I do not want no PATENT thing A squealin' over me! Our Fireside Friena DEATH OF GAUDENTIS.-HARRIET ANNIE. THE following inscription was found in the Catacombs by Mr. Perret, upon the tomb of the Architect of the Coliseum. "Thus thou keepest thy promises Vespasian! the rewarding with death him, the crown of thy glory in Rome. Do rejoice, O Gaudentis! the cruel tyrant promised much, but Christ gave thee all, who prepared thee such a mansion."-Professor J. De Launay's Lectures on the Catacombs. BEFORE Vespasian's regal throne "Build me," the haughty monarch cried, I know thou'rt skilled in mason's work, "Over seven acres spread thy work, And by the gods of Rome, Thou shalt hereafter by my side Have thy resplendent home. A citizen of Roman rights, Silver and golden store, These shall be thine; let Christian blood But stain the marble floor." So rose the Amphitheatre, Tower and arch and tier; There dawned a day when martyrs stood But strong their quenchless trust in God, Their eyes of faith, undimmed, were fixed And thousands gazed, in brutal joy, But one beside Vespasian leaned, With a strange light in his eye. What thoughts welled up within his breast, What gleams of holy light from heaven, Had he by password gained access, And learned the hope of Christ's beloved, The proud Vespasian o'er him bends, A free made citizen of Rome." And folding, o'er his breast, his arms, Only a few brief moments passed, But Christ with martyrs crowned him King, THE ENGINEER'S STORY. No. children, my trips are over, A tugging pain i' my breast; We were lumbering along in the twilight, The night was dropping her shade, And the "Gladiator" labored Climbing the top of the grade; The train was heavily laden, Till we reached the upland's crest. I held my watch to the lamplight- Of the up grade's heavy climb; Over the rails a-gleaming, The engine leaped like a demon, But to me-ahold of the lever- My lightest touch to obey. I was proud, yon know, of my engine, My hand was firm on the throttle One instant-one, awful and only, The train I thought flying forever, With mad irresistible roll, While the cries of the dying, the night wind Swept into my shuddering soul. Then I stood on the front of the engine.— How I got there I never could tell, My feet planted down on the crossbar, Where the cow-catcher slopes to the rail, One hand firmly locked on the coupler, While my eye gauged the distance, and measured My mind, thank the Lord! it was steady; And the face that, turning in wonder, I know little more-but I heard it- One rod! To the day of my dying I swept my hand over the track; They found us, they said, on the gravel, To nestle securely there. We are not much given to crying- But that night, they said, there were faces, For years in the eve and the morning My hand on the lever pressed downward THE NOBLE REVENGE. THE Coffin was a plain one-a poor miserable pine cof fin. No flowers on the top; no lining of white satin for the pale brow; no smooth ribbons about the coarse shroud. |