LIFE'S GAME OF BALL.

They tell me you're goin', Robbie, away from home and all, Goin' out on the fields of the future to play at Life's game of ball;

They tell me you're one and twenty-you don't look as old as that;

Seems like you're young and slender to handle Life's ball and bat.

I reckon I'm kinder fogyish; don't matter much what I say; But I'd like to advise a little 'bout the game you're goin' to

play.

My score is made, I've had my strikes; all past is my fears and doubts.

I'm waiting now till the Great Umpire calls me to take my outs,

In the deepening shadows of years, the years of my young day's time,

I'll set and watch you make your base-and, boy, you've got to climb!

You've got to do your level best if you hope for a chance to win, The "Trials of Life" is a difficult nine, and they're run by a chap named Sin.

The World will be the Umpire, boy, and you won't get favored there;

In fact, when you first begin the game, you'll hardly get

what's fair.

Pick out a good sound bat, look well to what you takeSome use the basswood bat of Luck, but it's mighty apt to

break;

Don't use the Ash of Rashness, nor the heavy Oak of Doubt, They're either light or heavy, and you'll most dead sure strike out.

Don't use the Elm of Dishonor, or the Ironwood of Crime, For, though they sometimes do the work, they fail most every time.

So don't choose one too heavy, nor neither one too light, But there's a bat that never fails, and that is the Willow of Right.

Old Time is a swift curve pitcher, and a tricky one besides, But never mind how fair they look, don't go to strikin' wides; But when the chance is right, and you get a ball that's fair, Don't wait for a softer snap, my boy, let go at it solid and square.

Don't count too much on your strength and knock Hope's balls too high,

The fielder Disappointment's apt to take such balls on the fly. Don't muff golden opportunities, guard well against a pass, Don't knock the ball of Resentment through any one's window glass.

It ain't always best to try too hard to tally a clean home run, For often the surest way is to make your bases one by one. Remember that every foul you make will be took by the Catcher Slur,

Temptation holds the first base well, Despair is the short fielder.

One of the hardest points to make is the first base in the run,
But, if you do the thing you ought, it can, and ought to be done,
After you've made your first, watch out for swift defeat,
The very worst man in the nine, my boy, is the second base,
Self-conceit.

There'll be the third base, too, and fielders a couple more, Who'll be on the watch to put you out and blacken your final score;

But then you'll have a team that's strong, who'll work to put you through,

Your backers are Conscience, and Honor, and Pluck, and they are strong players, too.

So brace to the work before you, dismiss all doubts and fears, And I will watch the game as I wait in the shade of the by-gone years.

TWO CITIES.

The one is a city of life,

Of labor and love, of anger and strife,

Of weeping, and laughter, and jest;

The other a host without breath,

A city of silence and death,

A city in peace and at rest.

Vast cities are these, are they both, as you see,

The city of A, and the city of B;

And the reason they lie

To each other so nigh,

The sole reason why

Is, the people of A are destined to die,

And the people of B await them hard by.

No rivals, these two, but the dearest of friends;
Yet, each with the other for numbers contends;
In spite of their efforts for keeping away,
Some scores of the transient sojourners in A
Transfer their abode into B every day.

Indeed, whosoever will follow each street,

And the lanes and the alleys, to where they all meet,
And make his survey of the city complete,
Will find that Life's avenues, crooked or straight,
At first or at last-either early or late,

All empty themselves through Death's open gate.
Quite handsome and fine is the city of A;
From suburbs to center so busy and gay,
Through half of the night and all of the day!
"Tis truly a wonderful place to behold;
Its wealth is unmeasured, its treasures untold;
It flashes with jewels and glitters with gold.
How costly is life! What countless expense
To temper the blood and comfort the sense,
And furnish the mind and chasten the breast,
And keep the heart ruled in its stormy unrest!
But death unto all is offered so cheap!
There is nothing to pay for falling asleep,
Save closing the eyes and falling asleep.

OUR DEBATING CLUB.-E. F. TURNER.

Perkins sat in the chair. When I say that he sat in the chair, I don't mean that he was in the habit of sitting on the floor, but I mean that Perkins sat in the chair of all other chairs in the room, and presided at the meeting of the club.

Perkins was a person whom we all regarded with considerable awe and respect. In the first place, he was the oldest person in the club. It was even darkly whispered that he was twenty, and it was an undoubted fact that his upper lip was adorned with what might be called the first cousin twice removed of a moustache.

Perkins was the founder of our debating club. It was

said that for some time he and two other young gentlemen named Gosling and Grigsby were the only members, that Perkins was chairman, Gosling secretary, and Grigsby treasurer. But members had gradually enlisted, and the club had swelled to such dimensions, that we had arranged with the landlord of a respectable inn for the use of a large room once a week, and there we used to assemble.

On the particular evening from which my sketch is taken, we had a very full gathering indeed. There was, as I before observed, Perkins in the chair, and there was Gosling on his right hand and Grigsby on his left, and there were something like twenty other members present, not to mention a young gentleman of remarkably selfpossessed aspect, who, by an indulgence which we granted in special cases, was introduced by one of the members as a guest for that evening, and whose name was Muggles.

For this evening the subject was to be of a domestic character, and Perkins had chosen as its title, "Home and its Influences."

At eight o'clock punctually, Perkins rose to open the debate. And when he rose to open a debate, I beg to state that he rose, if I may so say, exceedingly. He not only stood erect, but he always passed both his hands upwards through his hair before he began to speak. The effect was cockatoo-like, but majestic. There was one other feature connected with Perkins which, I am forced to admit, detracted a little from the effect of his oratory, and this was an alto voice occasionally varied by an unearthly bass, which came up at unexpected moments, and seemed to have its origin of domicile in his boots. Gentlemen," said Perkins, " before proceeding to the subject chosen for this evening's debate, I have to propose for your consideration a matter affecting ourselves personally, and which is, I think, worthy of your attention.

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"Gentlemen, there are two reasons which make me

think it would be desirable if we were to adopt this custom. The first is that we wish to form ourselves, in all things, on the model of the House of Commons the members of which all wear their hats; and the second is [and here Perkins shuddered feelingly], that there is a very unpleasant draught between the broken window at the end of the room and the fireplace. I move, gentlemen, that the following addition be made to our rules: "That each member shall keep his hat upon his head while a debate is in progress, except when actually addressing the meeting.' Mr. Grigsby, will you second that?"

'Oh, yeth," said Grigsby, jumping up. Grigsby lisped. He couldn't help it, and I cast no reflection upon him. "I'll thecond it, only I thuggetht the addition, after the word hat, of the wordth-'or cap, ath the cathe may be.""

"I am much obliged to you for the correction, Mr. Grigsby; it is a distinct improvement. Gentlemen, if the proposal, as amended, meets with your approval, kindly signify the same in the usual manner."

The usual manner meant thumping vigorously on the table with both fists, for about ten minutes. Everybody signified, and it made a good deal of noise, but that didn't signify.

Immediately after the assent of the club had been made known in this manner, every member present dived down under his chair, and, in an instant, there might be seen every possible description of hat on top of every possible description of head. The visitor Muggles, who had been observed, somewhat to the surprise of the members, to thump on the table louder and longer than any one else, further scandalized our august body by placing on the left-hand side of his head, at its extreme back,so much so, that it seemed as if it must be clinging to a few hairs, a most rakish, not to say disreputable, species of billy-cock hat, quite out of keeping with the dignity