Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! But gazing on each glowing maid, Place me on Sunium's marbled steep, LORD BYRON. THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS. King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport, he sighed ; And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show, Valor and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below. Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws; They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with their paws; With wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled on one another, Till all the pit with sand and mane was in a thunderous smother, The bloody foam above the bars came whisking through the air; Said Francis then, "Faith, gentlemen, we're better here than there!" De Lorge's love o'erheard the King, a beauteous lively dame, With smiling lips and sharp bright eyes, which always seemed the same; She thought, "The Count, my lover, is brave as brave can be, She dropped her glove to prove his love, then looked on him and smiled; He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild; The leap was quick, return was quick, he has regained his place, Then threw the glove,—but not with love,―right in the lady's face. "By Heaven!" said Francis, "rightly done!" and he rose from where he sat ; "No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that.” HUNT. SIMON SHORT'S SON SAMUEL. "Shrewd Simon Short sewed shoes. Seventeen summers' speeding storms, -succeeding sunshine-successively saw Simon's small shabby shop standing staunch, saw Simon's selfsame sign still swinging, silently specifying : "Simon Short, Smithfield's sole surviving shoemaker. Shoes sewed, soled superfinely." Simon's spry sedulous spouse, Sally Short, sewed shirts, stitched sheets, stuffed sofas. Simon's six stout sturdy sons, Seth, Samuel, Stephen, Saul, Shadrach, Silassold sundries. Sober Seth sold sugar, starch, spices; Simple Sam sold saddles, stirrups, screws; Sagacious Stephen sold silks, satins, shawls; Skeptical Saul sold silver salvers, silver spoons; Selfish Shadrach sold shoe-strings, soaps, saws, skates; Slack Silas sold Sally Short's stuffed sofas. Some seven summers since, Simon's second son, Samuel, saw Sophia Sophronia Spriggs somewhere. Sweet, sensible, smart Sophia Sophronia Spriggs. Sam soon showed strange symptoms. Sam seldom stayed storing, selling saddles. Sam sighed sorrowfully, sought Sophia Sophronia's society, sang several silly serenades. Simon stormed, scolded severely, said Sam seemed so silly, singing such shameful, senseless songs. "Strange Sam should slight such splendid summer sales," said Simon. "Strutting spendthrift! shatter-brained simpleton !" "Softly, softly, sire," said Sally; "Sam's smitten-Sam's spied sweetheart. "Sentimental schoolboy!" snarled Simon; "Smitten! Stop such stuff! Simon sent Sally's snuff-box spinning, seizing Sally's scissors, smashed Sally's spectacles, scattering several spools. "Sneaking scoundrel! Sam's shocking silliness shall surcease!" Scowling Simon stopped speaking, starting swiftly shopward. Sally sighed sadly. Summoning Sam, she spoke sweet sympathy. "Sam,' said she, "sire seems singularly snappy; so, sonny, stop strolling sidewalks, stop smoking segars, spending specie superfluously; stop sprucing so; stop singing serenadesstop short: sell saddles, sonny; sell saddles sensibly; see Sophia Sophronia Spriggs soon; she's sprightly, she's staple, so solicit, sure; so secure Sophia speedily, Sam." "So soon; so soon? " said Sam, standing stock still. "So soon! surely," said Sally, smiling, "specially since sire shows such spirit." So Sam, somewhat scared, sauntered slowly, shaking stupendously. Sam soliloquizes: Sophia Sophronia Spriggs Short-Sophia Sophronia Short, Samuel Short's spouse-sounds splendid! Suppose she should say she shan't !” Soon Sam spied Sophia starching shirts, singing softly. Seeing Sam she stopped starching; saluted Sam smilingly; Sam stammered shockingly. 66 Sp-sp-splendid summer season, Sophia. "Somewhat sultry," suggested Sophia.' onds.) 66 Sar-sartin, Sophia," said Sam. (Silence seventeen sec Selling saddles still, Sam?" "Sar-sar-sartin," said Sam, starting suddenly. "Season's somewhat soporific," said Sam, stealthily staunching streaming sweat, shaking sensibly. "Sartin," said Sophia, smiling significantly. "Sip some sweet sherbet, Sam." (Silence sixty seconds.) "Sire shot sixty sheldrakes, Saturday," said Sophia. "Sixty? sho!" said Sam. (Silence seventy-seven seconds.) "See sister Susan's sunflowers," said Sophia, sociably scattering such stiff silence. 6 Sophia's sprightly sauciness stimulated Sam strangely; so Sam suddenly spoke sentimentally: "Sophia, Susan's sunflowers seem saying, Samuel Short, Sophia Sophronia Spriggs, stroll serenely, seek some sequestered spot, some sylvan shade. Sparkling spring shall sing soul-soothing strains; sweet songsters shall silence secret sighing; superangelic sylphs shall-"" Sophia snickered: so Sam stopped. "Sophia, said Sam, solemnly "Sam," said Sophia. "Sophia, stop smiling. Sam Short's sincere. Sam's seeking some sweet spouse, Sophia. "Speak, Sophia, speak! Such suspense speculates sorrow.' So Sam sought sire Spriggs. Sire Spriggs said, “sartin.” THE WRONG ASHES. He was a jolly looking man, with a round corporation, a Burgundy-tinted nose and the general exterior of a contented mind, and as he entered the editorial den he offered us a good cigar, lit another and said: "How about this local cremation scheme?" 'Well, how yourself?" "The fact is," said the stranger, reflectively, "I had a pretty tough experience with one of these cadaver roasting. concerns, once, and I thought mebbe you might like to make an item of the facts, so as to warn the people here in time.' "Fire away." 66 Well, you see, it was in New Orleans. My wife died there, and as a cremation company was having a good deal of a boom there just then, she made me promise to have her spirit sent up through their flue, as it were. Said she thought it would be nice and melancholy for me to carry her ashes around with me wherever I went in a vase, you understand.' "And you complied?" 66 Why, yes. It was her last wish, you know, and besides I thought it might be useful in kinder preparing her for the here- but never mind that now. I sent the remains round to the company's office in a push-cart, got a receipt, saw Maria touched off, so to speak, and two days after that they returned to me a beautiful majolica jar full of ashes, scented with forget-me-not, and the stopper tied in with pink ribbon." "That was pretty.' "Yes; I was very much pleased at first, but I had to keep the bottle out of sight after awhile, though, because people were all the time opening the jar under the impression that it contained preserved ginger or chow-chow or something." "That would have been unpleasant.' 66 'Unpleasant well, I should smile-I mean I should weep. Why, actually, one day while I was living in New York I came home and found a new servant girl polishing knives with the remains just think of it." "Terrible, sir; terrible!" "But, what I was going to say, was this: About a year after my wife was kindled-I mean cremated -I was in New Orleans again, and I happened to meet the superintendent of the refactory ore I would say the corpse-burning furnace at a banquet, and he got so full that I had to see him home. On the way we stopped in a place or two for a steadier — you know how it is and the result was that he got very communicative about his company- in fact, gave the whole business away. "Did, eh?" -- "Yes, sir; he squarely owned up that he didn't burn the bodies at all. He said that they just dropped 'em through a hole in the bottom of the furnace, took 'em out the back way at night, and sold 'em to the medical students." "Gracious! And the ashes?" "Mule ashes, sir; nothing but mule ashes? They would just cut up some old mule carcass, the superintendent said, pitch in enough to make a bad smell, and then sell the ashes to the grief-striken relatives at twenty-five dollars a bottle. Terribly cheeky, now wasn't it?" "And all this time you had "Had been carrying that old jar of mule ashes all over the country. Just imagine how mean I felt." "You threw it away, then?" 66 'Well, no," said the widower, as he winked a tear out of his left eye; "the more I studied over the matter the more I concluded that mule ashes weren't so much out of the way |