And I told her in the future I wouldn't speak cross or rash If half the crockery in the house was broken all to smash; And she said in regard to heaven, we'd try and learn its worth

By startin' a branch establishment and runnin' it here on earth.

And so we sat a-talkin' three-quarters of the night;

And open'd our hearts to each other until they both grew light;

And the days when I was winnin' her away from so many

men

Was nothin' to that evenin' I courted her over again.

Next mornin' an ancient virgin took pains to call on us,
Her lamp all trimm'd and a-burnin' to kindle another fuss;
But when she went to pryin' and openin' of old sores,
My Betsy rose politely, and show'd her out-of-doors.

Since then I don't deny but there's been a word or two; But we've got our eyes wide open, and know just what to do;

When one speaks cross the other just meets it with a

langh,

And the first one's ready to give up considerable

half.

more than

Maybe you'll think me soft, Sir! a-talking in this style, But somehow it does me lots of good to tell it once in a while;

And I do it for a compliment-'tis so that you can see That that there written agreement of yours was just the makin' of me.

So make out your bill, Mr. Lawyer! don't stop short of an X;

Make it more if you want to, for I have got the checks; I'm richer than a National Bank, with all its treasures told,

For I've got a wife at home now that's worth her weight in gold.

F. F. VICTOR.

NEVADA.

SPHINX! down whose rugged face

The sliding centuries their furrows cleave
By sun and frost and cloud-burst, scarce to leave
Perceptible a trace

Of age or sorrow,

Faint hints of yesterdays with no to-morrow,-
My mind regards thee with a questioning eye,
To know thy secret high.

If Theban mystery,

With head of woman, soaring bird-like wings,
And serpent's tail on lion's trunk, were things
Puzzling in history;

And men invented

For it an origin which represented
Chimera and a monster double-headed,
By myths Phenician wedded,—

Their issue being this

This most chimerical and wondrous thing

From whose dumb mouth not even the gods could wring Truth, nor antithesis,

Then, what I think is,

This creature-being chief among men's sphinxes-
Is eloquent, and overflows with story,

Beside thy silence hoary!

Nevada desert, waste,
Mighty, and inhospitable, and stern,
Hiding a meaning over which we yearn
In eager panting haste,-

Grasping and losing,

Still being deluded ever by our choosing,-
Answer us, Sphinx! what is thy meaning double
But endless toil and trouble?

Inscrutable! men strive

To rend thy secret from thy rocky breast,-
Breaking their hearts, and periling heaven's rest
For hopes that can not thrive;

Whilst unrelenting,

Upon thy mountain throne, and unrepenting,
Thou sittest, basking in a fervid sun,
Seeing or hearing none.

I sit beneath thy stars

The shallop moon beach'd on a bank of clouds-
And see thy mountains wrapp'd in shadowy shrouds,
Glad that the darkness bars

The day's suggestion

The endless repetition of one question;
Glad that thy stony face I can not see,
Nevada-Mystery!

EDWARD ROWLAND SILL.

Born 1843

SLEEPING.

HUSH'D within her quiet bed

She is lying, all the night,
In her pallid robe of white,
Eyelids on the pure eyes press'd,
Soft hands folded on the breast,-
And, you thought I meant it-dead?

Nay! I smile at your shock'd face :
In the morning she will wake,
Turn her dreams to sport, and make
All the household glad and gay
Yet for many a merry day,
With her beauty and her grace.
But some summer 'twill be said-
"She is lying, all the night,
In her pallid robe of white,

Eyelids on the tired eyes press'd, Hands that cross upon the breast,” We shall understand it-dead!

Yet 'twill only be a sleep:

When, with songs and dewy light,
Morning blossoms out of Night,,
She will open her blue eyes
'Neath the palms of Paradise,
While we foolish ones shall weep.

A POET'S APOLOGY.

TRUTH cut on high in tablets of hewn stone,
Or on great columns gorgeously adorn'd,
Perchance were left alone,

Pass'd by and scorn'd;

But Truth enchased upon a jewel rare,

A man would keep, and next his bosom wear.

So, many an hour, I sit and carve my gems,-
Ten spoil'd, for one in purer beauty set:

Not for king's diadems,

Some amulet

That may be worn o'er hearts that toil and plod,— Though but one pearl that bears the name of God.

NOTES.

1. HOPKINSON-page 3.

Drake says he was born in 1778: a manifest misprint. Drake (American Biography) is my usual authority; but I have had to correct him by Allibone (Dictionary of Authors) and Griswold, and each by other or by personal inquiry.

2. ADAMS AND LIBERTY-p. 5.

By this poem, written soon after 1797, Paine is said to have made $750, nearly ten dollars a line. The stanza on Washington was added by particular request.

3. THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER-p. 7.

During the war of 1812 with England Mr Key, then residing in Baltimore, having had occasion to go on board of one of the vessels of the British fleet, was detained to witness the attack on Fort McHenry; and, says Griswold, wrote this Song in honour of the flag which floated over the fort during the whole of the futile bombardment.

4. AMERICA TO GREAT BRITAIN―p. 8.

First printed with Coleridge's Sybilline Leaves in England, in 1810. A volume of Allston's Poems appeared in 1813. Though born in South Carolina, Allston was educated at Harvard; and his life was spent, in his studies and practice as a painter, either at the North or in Europe.

Cranch (also a painter) was born at Alexandria, on the border line of Virginia and the District of Columbia. Neither in his nor Allston's life or writings is there anything to mark them as Southerners. The same may be said of others. Maxwell was