Of course he can do it much better;
But he knows, and he surely won't mind
The worry about her old husband

Of the old woman left here behind.
So I pray, and I pray, for the old man,
And I'm sure that I shall till I die,

So maybe that proves I ain't low Church,
And maybe it shows I am high.

My old father was never a Churchman,
But a Scotch Presbyterian saint;

Still, his white head is shining in heaven,
I don't care who says that it ain't;
To one of our blessed Lord's mansions
That old man was certain to go,

And now do you think I am high Church?
Are you sure that I ain't pretty low?

I tell you it's all just a muddle,
Too much for a body like me,
I'll wait till I join my old husband,
And then we shall see what we'll see.
Don't ask me again, if you please, sir;

For really it worries me so,

And I don't care whether I'm high Church,
And I don't care whether I'm low.

A NUTTING EXPEDITION.

Young Augustus Jones and Miss Clara Brussels never speak any more as they pass by. A few weeks ago the world looked bright to the young couple. Augustus loved Clara and Clara loved Augustus. The young man admired the old man Brussels, respected old Mrs. Brussels, and was on intimate terms with the house dog. A few days ago the young man received an invitation to go with the family on a nutting expedition, which he promptly accepted. The roomy old carriage was comfortably filled, with Mr. and Mrs. Brussels on the front seat and Augustus and his darling on the back one. The day was a delicious one, with the warm, mellow glow of

the Indian summer air bringing a delicious languor to the soul. Arriving on the ground, they soon found there were plenty of nuts, but how to get them was the question. Clubs were procured however, and the work of pelting the nuts from the trees commenced. The first attempt of young Augustus was a success. He drew back to throw and took Mrs. Brussels under the chin with such force as to draw an agonizing shriek from the old lady. Finally all the clubs were lodged in the trees, and it was decided that it was necessary to climb the monarchs of the forest if any nuts were procured. Of course, this meant work for Augustus. He avowed a willingness to try, and was so bewildered by a thankful glance from Clara's blue eyes that he promptly commenced the ascent of a black oak under the impression that it was a hickory.

"That young man will do some mischief yet," said old Mrs. Brussels, who was still indignant.

And then Augustus attempted the explanation that he had intended climbing the oak and then jumping over to the hickory, which, as the limbs were about forty feet apart, would have been a very heroic feat indeed. The young man finally succeeded in reaching one of the branches of a hickory and dislodging a few consumptivelooking nuts, one of which took Clara on the tip of her angelic nose, just as she looked up to see Augustus, retiring her in short order. The old man lay down on the grass and roared, when, just as he turned over, one of the heaviest clubs that had lodged in the branches took him across the mouth, knocking out two of his teeth and changing his laugh to a roar of anguish.

"I knew he would do some mischief," shrieked the old woman, rushing to the relief of her husband and gazing reproachfully up in the tree just in time to receive a big hickory nut in the eye.

"Clara," shouted the old man, "lead up the horse and let us go home and leave that conceited young fool in the tree."

up

Clara, with a heart swelling with indignation toward her lover, did as she was bid, when, just as the old horse came under the tree, poor Augustus, who knew nothing of the damage he was doing, rained down a perfect avalanche of clubs and hickory nuts and started the old horse on the run.

"Got all you want down there?" cheerfully shouted young Augustus from the upper branches.

"Come down, you miserable idiot, and see!" shouted old man Brussels, with a gleam of war in his eye.

"What's the matter?" asked the bewildered young man, as he reached the ground. Old man Brussels started towards him, but was held by the women folks, who briefly and sternly explained the situation to him in such a way as to let him know that all was at an end.

Clara now has young Smith for steady company. The new gallant laughed heartily when told of Jones' misfortunes. "He doesn't understand nutting, Clara," said he; "I will go to the woods to-morrow and bring you all you want." He accomplished the feat by hiring a buggy and buying a bushel for a dollar of a farmer's boy.

GIVE US MEN.

God give us men, a time like this demands

Great hearts, strong minds, true faith and ready hands:

Men whom the lust of office cannot kill;

Men whom the spoils of office cannot buy;

Men who possess opinions and will;

Men who love honor; men who will not lie;

Men who can stand before a demagogue,

And brave his treacherous flatteries without winking;
Tall men, sunburnt, who live above the fog,
In public duty, and in private thinking;

For while the rabble, with its thumb-worn creeds,
Its large professions, and its little deeds,
Mingle in selfish strife, lo! Freedom weeps,
Wrong rules the land and waiting Justice sleeps.

LOST ON THE SHORE.-HOLME LEE.

Drowsy sunshine, noonday sunshine, shining full on sea and sand,

Show the tiny, tiny footsteps trending downward from the land;

In the dewy morning early, while the birds were singing all,
My bonnie birdies flew away, loud laughing at my cail.
I did not follow after, for I thought they flew to hide,
But they went to seek their father's boat, that sailed at ebb
of tide.

Along the dusty lane I track their hurrying little feet;
Did no man coming up that way my bonnie birdies meet?
They lisped "Our Father" at my knee, they shared their
bread with Nap,

And kissed, and fought, and kissed again, both sitting in my

lap;

It was not long-for we must work-and soon upon the floor I set my merry little lads before the open door.

A white-winged moth came flying in,--in chase they sprang

away;

I watched them, smiling to myself, at all their pretty play;
The golden-rippled darling heads flashed to and fro my eyes,
Until I saw them through a mist,-angels in paradise.
But we who have to work to live must trust so much to God,
That, with the vision in my heart, I left them on the sod,
Plucking the daisies, one by one, to set them on a thorn
Which Willie's sturdy little grasp out of the hedge had torn.
And up and down the house went I, as I go every day,
And while I toiled, and father toiled, our darlings stole away.
I heard my Robin's joyous shout beyond the orchard trees,
And answered back, "Yes, mother, here, her little birdy sees!"
The laughing pair cried out again; on with my work, worked I;
Waking or sleeping, we believe that God is always nigh:
And, oh! I must not doubt it now, though the little steps I

see,

Trending along the dusty lane to the fast inflowing sea! Here, where the the yellow king cups grow, they have dropt the daisied thorn,

They have rested under the shady hedge, and Robin his frock has torn ;

Here is a rag of the faded stuff, he has worn it the summer through,

My little lad was but three years old when his old frock was

new.

Oh! pray they have gone through the ripening fields-their footsteps are lost in the grass

Ah! no; for I see the king cups strewn down the ravine of Small-hope Pass!

O Father! to whom my darlings prayed, this morning, "Thy

will be done!"

Show me their little golden heads in the gold of this summer

sun!

Where are they? Here cease the tiny steps that the loving hearts wiled on;

Here comes the sweep of the heavy tide-but my babes, my

babes are gone!

I cannot see for the burning haze and the glitter upon the

foam;

But Thou, O Thou Merciful! hear my cry, bring me them safely home!

"Fisherman, came you over the rocks that lie under Hurtle Head?

My two children have strayed from home,-one white clad, the other red;

They have golden hair, and the prettiest eyes-their names are Willie and Rob?"

"No, mistress, I saw no children there, but only the waves' deep throb,

And a storm brewing up in the windy west-God speed your master safe!

There's hardly a boat will live the night that's beating outside the reef."

"Fisherman, saw you the trace of steps, little steps, on the farther strand?"

"No, mistress, the tide has been over it; I saw but the wet, ribbed sand."

"Did you find aught, fisherman, as you came,—

little shoe?"

-a cap, or a

"I found nought, mistress, as I came, but some hedge-flowers, yellow and blue."

"The king cups, the pretty forget-me-nots, they gathered the bank below!

My laddies dropt them, fisherman; how long ere the tide is

low ?"

"How long? It is on the turn, mistress; the rocks will soon be bare;

But Almighty God, in mercy forbid you find your laddies there!"

"The sea-caves, fisherman, under the Head, I have taken them in to play."