CLARA was told, if past a certain age,
Her lovely spirit left this mortal stage;
(An adage known full well ;)

She must, as all yclept old maidens must,
Below this ball of mud, and rocks, and dust,
Lead frightful apes in hell!

She said, if such must be her future lot,
Resigned, she would not mourn a single jot;
She'd rather lead a thousand down below,

Than one should lead her now!

J. W. H.

Marry! no, faith; husbands are like lots in
The lottery- you may draw forty blanks,
Before you find one that has any prize
In him; a husband generally is a
Careless, domineering thing, that grows like
Coral; which as long as it is under water
Is soft and tender; but as soon

As it has got its branch above the waves
Is presently hard, stiff, not to be bowed.

A wife! O fetters

MARSTON.

To man's blessed liberty! all this world's a prison,
Heaven the high wall about it, sin the jailer;
But th' iron shackles, weighing down our heels,
Are only women.

DECKER.

BAY WREATH.

Laurus Carolinensis.

LANGUAGE GLORY.

WHAT is glory? What is fame?
The echo of a long-lost name;
A breath, an idle hour's brief talk;
The shadow of an arrant nought;
A flower that blossoms for a day,
Dying next morrow;

A stream that hurries on its way,
Singing of sorrow.

MOTHERWell.

And glory long has made the sages smile;
'Tis something, nothing, words, illusion, wind-
Depending more upon the historian's style
Than on the name a person leaves behind.

Real glory

BYRON.

Springs from the silent conquest of ourselves; And without that the conqueror is nought

But the first slave.

THOMSON.

Fame! Fame! thou canst not be the stay

Unto the drooping reed,

The cool, fresh fountain, in the day

Of the soul's feverish need:

Where must the lone one turn or flee?
Not unto thee, O, not to thee!

MRS. HEMANS.

BAY LEAF.

Laurus.

LANGUAGE-I CHANGE BUT IN DYING.

IN bower and garden rich and rare
There's many a cherished flower,
Whose beauty fades, whose fragrance dies
Within the flitting hour.

Not so the simple forest leaf,

Unprized, unnoticed, lying:

The same through all its little life,
It changes but in dying.

Be such, and only such, my friends;
Once mine, and mine forever;
And here's a hand to clasp in theirs,
That shall desert them never.
And thou be such, my gentle love,

Time, chance, the world defying;
And take

'tis all I have

a heart

, shall I love the fading beauty less,

Those spring-tide radiance has been wholly mine? come what will, thy steadfast truth I'll bless;

youth, in age, thine own - forever thine.

1

A. A. WATTS.

ome the wild weather, come sleet, or come snow, will stand by each other however it blow.

ion, and sickness, and sorrow, and pain

1 be to our true love as links to the chain.

O, think not less I love thee,

LONGFELLOW.

That our paths are parted now;
For the stars that burn above thee

Are not truer than my vow;

As the fragrance from the blossom,
As the moon unto the night,

Our love is to my bosom
Its loveliness and light.

O, think not less I love thee,

That thy hand I thus resign;
In the heaven that bends above thee
I will claim thee yet as mine.
Through the vision of life's morning

Ever flitted one like thee;

And thou, life's lapse adorning,
Shalt hence that vision be.

W. D. GALLAGHER.

BAYBERRY.

Myrica Cerifera.

LANGUAGE-SOURNESS, OR SHARPNESS.

Now Fate preserve thee, lady fair!
I will not breathe the Frenchman's prayer,
Who, to the maiden's great alarm,
Exclaimed, "God pickle you, madame!"
But "Fate preserve thee!" even as they,
Our housewives notable, allay,

With sugared sweets, an acid juice,
And store it up for future use:

So "Fate preserve thee," or thou❜lt stay
Unplucked upon the parent tree;
Unless thy sharpness be effaced,
Thou'rt far too sour to suit my taste.

He reads much;

He is a great observer, and he looks

MRS. F. S. OSGOOD.

Quite through the deeds of men; he loves no plays
As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music;
Seldom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort,
As if he mocked himself, and scorned his spirit,
That could be moved to smile at any thing.

SHAKSPEARE.

Since both of you so like in manners be,
Thou the worst husband, and the worst wife she,
I wonder you no better should agree.

SHERBOURNE.