MEDLEY-MARY'S LITTLE LAMB.

The following is the Chinese version of Mary and her lamb:

Was gal name Moll had lamb,
Flea all samee white snow,
Evly place Moll gal walkee,
Ba ba noppee long too.

We heard a son of Erin trying to surround Mary and her little lamb the other day, and this is the way he understood it:

Begorry, Mary had a little shape,

And the wool was white intoirly;

An' wherever Mary wud sthir her sthumps,
The young shape would follow her complately.
So celebrated a poem should have a French version:
La petite Marie had le jeune muttong,
Zee wool was blanchee as ze snow;

And everywhere La Belle Marie went,
Le jeune muttong was zure to go.

Oui Monsieur; you avez un very large imagination; mais comment est this, pour Deutsche :

Dot Mary haf got ein leedle schaf;
Mit hair yust like some vool;
Und all der place dot gal did vent,
Das schaf go like em fool.

We inscribe the following version to the dear girls of Boston!
Tradition testifies, and history verifies the
testimony, that one Mary was at one
time possessed of a youth-

ful member of the
genus sheep,

Whose excellence of blood and neatness of

manner rendered his, or her, exterior

fringe as beautifully trans

lucent as the driven,
beautiful snow;

And it is stated in the most authentic manner
(pp. 2 and 3 vol. 1, Nursery Rhymes, q.
v.) that nowhere did the charming
little lady (probably a Bos-
ton girl) perambulate,

But the aforementioned quadrupedal verte-
brate did with alacrity ap-

proximate thither.

THE TRIPLE TIE.-HENRY G. PERRY.

"Twas on a street, two strangers met, in a city far away, The sun long past meridian height, left but the ghost of day; And one was strong and brisk of step; but the other stooped and slow,

Made him a motion level and true, true and level, you know.

Then he, the strong and brisk of step, at cue of such language dumb,

Came to a half-halt, dead stop next, and still a living plumb, And stroked his face, and spied again and again, 'twas

surely so

Some sign of a thing, both fair and square, certainly strange, you know.

If you're weary and wanting, sojourner," quoth he, “why not rest?"

"Ah, brother! I'm worn and ailing enough, but leaving the West.

I'm bound, I fear, to that uttermost bourne, whither we all

must go;

For, methinks, the Master's calling, and I must obey, you

know."

They first took hands in a wordless way; then spake they each with care,

In Old World words, with that for this, and a something here and there,

It was thus begun, but afterwards done-in the deathless

glow

Mysterious of genuine Fellow-craft spirit, you know.

And there sought him soon three faithful men under a triple tie,

Who all were sad, for well they saw that he was about to die.
So circling round, his secret apart, then to them moreo'er,
He told of his distant home and wife, and little children four.

46

Now, I've none to trust in all the world but you good

brethren here,

In what I dying bespeak of you for wife and children dear; For the world is wicked--while I'm away-traveling hitherto; Death's gavel sounds, and all I have for them I confide to

you."

And, tried and trusty, those men did, as just for themselves they would;

Until the last by his dying side, one or another stood, And wiped the death-damp off his brow, and eased his pillow of pain,

Bidding him fix his faith in God as never besought in vain,

He died at low twelve-hand upon heart-just as would you or I;

His left hand suppliant raised, as if in prayer, on high; But the Master took them tenderly, and "palmed" them on his breast,

While the brethren said “So mote it be !" God give his soul good rest!

Thence from the lodge his coffined form passed under the architrave,

With the craftsmen mutely following, two by two, to the

grave,

Where they gave their solemn service with his badge upon the lid,

And sprigs of acacia, one by one, over their brother's head. Ah! little he thought such parting last, from home and babes

and wife,

To roam and not return, and so in a strange land end his life; But the friends he found forgot neither orphans nor widow

lone,

Since Masonry's care is ever-“ dead or alive”—for its own.

THE HELPLESS GRAY HEAD.-DOUGLAS JERROLD.
Come, raise we a Temple of purpose divine;
Let cedars be chosen, the granite be laid;

Though we carve not the cherubim-face on the shrine
Be sure brightest spirits will lend us their aid.
We ask not to burnish our Temple with gold;
We ask not rich hangings, blue, purple, and red;

We seek but to build us a house for the old,

A refuge, a home, for the helpless gray head.

'Tis little to clamber life's wearisome steep,

When youth holds the staff and our sandals are new;
Let hurricanes ravage, we tranquilly sleep;

Let rock be our couch, and our canopy yew;
We've hope when we climb, with the bright early day,
The hill yet before us; we heed not our bed;
But when we creep down with the sun-setting ray,
The earth coldly pillows the heipless gray head.

This mountain of life hath its vines and its streams,
The bountiful blive, milk, honey, and corn,
And some journey o'er it in happiest dreams,

And feed at all seasons from plenty's full horn:
And some totter downward, nor once on the way
Have tasted the banquet by competence spread;
And bent on their staff, in mute eloquence pray
A fireside, a home, for the helpless gray head.

PPPPP

Then build we a Temple for age-stricken grief,
And think as we bid the bright edifice rise
We give to poor pilgrims a passing relief,

Who, summoned, shall tell the good deeds in the skies:
Then build we the Temple and pour we the wheat,
For, feeding the wretched, with manna we're fed.
What oil is so fragrant, what honey so sweet,
As that we bestow on the helpless gray head?
Masonic Revieu

POPPING THE QUESTION.—I. EDGAR JONES.

A dream of beauty, dazzling bright-
We met at "Richfield Springs."
She seemed a sylph that summer night,
To which my memory clings;

Her person decked with diamonds rare,
Displayed with artist grace,

While flowers and waves of shining hair
Framed in her matchless face.

She seemed a spirit of the air,
Upheld on angel wings;
Above the wants of mortal care,

And common earthly things;

And I-though tied to wheels of trade
And business day by day-
Disdained my lowly doom, and soared
On airy wings away.

I made myself her shadow,
Her faithful satellite,

And summoned courage to propose,
One glorious moonlit night.

We sat within an arbor,

Secure from sight and sound,

While balmy odors floated like
A blessing all around.

Upon my knees, I begged she would

Her heart to me incline;

That she for once would stoop to earth,

And promise to be mine.

I vowed that I would live for her,

For her, if needs be, die;

And then, with fluttering heart I ceased,
Awaiting her reply,

She turned those glorious eyes on me,
Their amber depths revealing-

While o'er her face I saw desire

And soft emotion stealing.

She sighed, and then the shadows fled
Before her gladsome smile-
And glances arch on me bestowed,
In her bewitching style.

I felt that I had gained the day,
That hours of doubt were past;
That now, in ports of perfect bliss
My hopes were anchored fast.
I listened, breathless for her words-
And thus at last she spake-
"I'm hungry, Mr. Brown, and I
Would like a piece of steak.

Such idiotic talk of love

Is but of little use,

Escort me to the dining-room,
And please don't be a goose.”

THE HORSE-A BOY'S COMPOSITION.

AS READ BY THE BOY.

The hawse is a noble animal. He has four legs, one at each corner. The hawse has a head at one end, and a tail on the other, which is different from the eliphant, for he has a tail on both ends. There are a grate many kinds of hawses. There is the black hawse, the white hawse, the gray hawse, the brown hawse, the chesnut hawse and the hawsechesnut, the reddish hawse and the hawse-reddish. I don't like hawse-reddish, 'cause it gets in my eyes and makes them cry. There's the saw-hawse, the close-hawse, the hawse voice, the hawse-pital and the hawse-pistol. Besides, there is the Colt's revolver, the pony of brandy, the nightmare, the Lord-mare, mare-ely and Mary had a little lamb. The hawse is the only animal who wares shoes, but he does not take them off when he goes to bed like boys and girls. Hawses have to work, if I was a hawse I'd wish I was a kow, cause kows do not work, but only loaf round eating all day. I like the hawse, and if I had one I would not let Jim Bunker ride on him, 'cause he makes mouths at my sister. You always can find a hawse in the street, and you can tell him because he has big eyes and a hed. The hawse has a flowing coal-scuttle-(looks intently at the paper)-no-the hawse hashas a flowing coal-black mane some boys likes goats, but as for me give me a hawse or-give me deth.