fell upon it; to look upon it every day, and wake up in the night and hear its ceaseless voice,-this was enough. I think in every quiet season now, still do those waters roll and leap, and roar and tumble, all day long; still are the rainbows spanning them, a hundred feet below. Still, when the sun is on them, do they shine and glow like molten gold. Still, when the day is gloomy, do they fall like snow, or seem to crumble away like the front of a great chalk-cliff, or roll down the rock like dense white smoke. But always does the mighty stream appear to die as it comes down, and always from its unfathomable grave arises that tremendous ghost of spray and mist which is never laid,-which has haunted this place with the same dread solemnity since darkness brooded on the deep, and that first flood before the deluge-light--came rushing on creation at the word of God. THE OLD-TIME SLEIGH-RIDE. Ho, girls, for a frolic! The sleigh's at the gate; And the dewdrops of music are tossed from their manes. Swift toilets are only in order to-day. Now, in with you, Molly, Meg, Fanny, and Ma, Settle down in the robes; put your feet in the straw; Here, Nell, Sue, and Kitty, the middle seat take. Hurrah! Now the whip; give them head, Uncle Jake! As a sleigh full of girls and a first coat of snow? Bump! bump! swish and swish! Now we glide like a ship. Swish, swish! now the runners their polish have got, Set them up, grab the leaders! Who ever yet heard I WONDER. I wonder if ever a song was sung I wonder if ever a rhyme was rung But the thought surpassed the meter! I wonder if ever a sculptor wrought "Till the cold stone echoed his ardent thought! I wonder if ever a rose was found Or if ever a glittering gem was ground, CRIPPLE BEN.-GEORGE L. CATLIN. Down in a street by the river's side, Hungry and poor, dwelt "Cripple Ben." All day long on his crutch he'd go Through the streets with a painful gait and slow Never complaining, never sad, With an eye so bright, and a face so glad, He could bury forever his weight of care. 66 'Nobody cares for me," he'd say; "I'm weary of toiling every day. Yet something within him said: "Live on; To do some good ere thy life is o'er." So, then, with a sigh of silent pain, And take up his burden of life once more, One day last June, in an eager hunt For a friend's place, down by the river front, A cry of grief from the pier hard by; Were speeding across the rough-paved street. Screamed, "Oh! my child!" while men did shout, A man was struggling to keep afloat We shouted. Then stalwart arms and brave With his face upturned to the noonday sun A bystander said: "Why, it's Cripple Ben!" EARTH'S NOBLEMEN. The noblest men I know on earth, Are men whose hands are brown with toil. Hew down the woods, and till the soil, The royal stamp and seal of God; . God bless the noble working men, Who rear the cities of the plain; DIFFICULT LOVE-MAKING. The boy who sells fruit and confectionery on the train is usually a very vigorous sort of boy, with an eye strictly to business, and with no romantic thoughts running through his active brain. One of them came very near ruining the happiness of two souls for life, the other day. A young man sat in the seat with a pretty girl; and, though the passengers couldn't distinguish their conversation from the noise made by the cars, it was pretty evident that what was being said was of great interest to the young couple. He was saying "Jenny, darling! I have long been wishing an opportunity to tell you of my great regard for—” "Peanuts?" inquired the fruit-and-confectionery boy, thrusting his basket in front of the pair. "No!" exclaimed the young man in an annoyed tone, and waving his hand to one side. "As I was saying, Jenny," he continued, when the boy had passed on," I have long wanted to tell you of my regard for you. You are everything to me; and always, in your absence, my thoughts are constantly dwelling upon” ‘Nice candy! Prize in every box!" interrupted the boy, totally ignorant of the interesting conversation he was interrupting. The young man shook his head, while the girl looked mad enough to bite a hairpin in two. When the boy had left, the young man resumed: "I do not think you are entirely insensible to my regard, and I feel certain that you in some degree reciprocate. Tell me, darling, if I have a right to think that you are fond of "Nice, fresh figs-ten cents a--" The boy saw by the countenance of the pair that he could make no sale, and moved ahead with the basket. The young man finished with his eyes the sentence he had commenced, and waited for an answer. It came, murmured in his ear, that no other person might learn its import: "Oh, Charlie! you've no idea how happy you make me by your avowal! You know that I care for you only, and that my regard for you is as lasting as—” "Maple candy-very nice!" said the boy, displaying a tempting array of the delicacy. |