was the Jewess worth. (Subdued but vindictive.) This, then, was thy work; this the eternity of love that you promised me. (Falls on her knees.) Forgive me, Heaven, that I forget my nation to love this Christian. Let that love be lost in hate. Love is false, unjust-hate endless, eternal.

RUD. Cease these gloomy words of vengeance. I have wronged you-I feel it without your reproaches. I have sinned, but to sin is human, and it would be but human to forgive.

LEAH. You would tempt me again? I do not know that voice.

RUD. I will make good the evil I have done. Aye, an hundred fold.

LEAH (bitterly). Aye, crush the flower, grind it under foot, then make good the evil you have done. (Fiercely.) No, no! An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a heart for a heart!

RUD. Hold, fierce woman, I will beseech no more! Do not tempt Heaven, let it be the judge between us! If I have sinned through love, see that you do not sin through hate.

LEAH. Blasphemer! and you dare call on Heaven! What commandment have you not broken? Thou shalt not swear falsely-you broke faith with me! Thou shalt not stealyou stole my heart. Thou shalt not kill-what of life have you left me?

Run. (advancing toward her.) Hold, hold! No more.

LEAH (repelling him). The old man who died because I loved you; the woman who hungered because I followed you; the infant who died of thirst because of you; may they follow you in dreams, and be a drag upon your feet forever. May you wander as I wander, suffer shame as I now suffer it. Cursed be the land you till, may it keep faith with you, as you kept faith with me! Cursed be the unborn fruit of thy marriage! may it wither as my young heart has withered; and should it ever see the light, may its brows be blackened by the mark of Cain, and may it vainly pant for nourishment on its dying mother's breast! (Snatching the wreath from his uplifted hand.) Cursed, thrice cursed may you be evermore, and as my people on Mount Ebal spoke, so speak I thrice, Amen! Amen! Amen! Rudolf, who has been standing, as if petrified, drops on his knees, as curtain falls.

A HAPPY COUPLE.-H. ELLIOTT McBride.

In the valley of Craft, a dressmaker lived, a smiling, angelic young lady;

Her name, be it known, was Lucy Ann Jane Robella Belinda McHenry.,

She had a blue eye and a finely shaped nose, and her mouth was as sweet as ripe peaches;

Her voice was as soft as a jewsharper's tone, and her form was as straight as a cedar's.

This fair sewing girl had many good beaux,-they fully made up a round dozen :

They came and they wept and besought her to wed, and flee from the dressmaking business.

She firmly held on, and she worked right along, and gave unto all the same answer:

'I cannot-I cannot! Oh! why should I wed? no love boometh round in my bosom.

Oh, why should I wed when my heart and my soul are wrapped in the dressmaking business?

Go home! go away!" thus she spake unto all, "and leave me alone with my sewing;

Don't bother me now with your lover-like talk, your heaving of sighs and lamenting.

I know I'm a beauty, and many will come and ask for my warmest affections,

But I never will wed-oh, never, no, no! until I am sure I am suited.

This giving the hand and keeping the heart is awful and truly terrific;

I never will do it—no, not if I know the swing of my own

constitution;

1 never will do it-no, not if I get the bent of my own in

clination.

So go to your homes and bother no more,—this question is

settled forever.

Beside and above, I want you to know, to marry is not my intention;

I live not to love, and I wish but to make a name as a very

great sewist.

Oh, why should I marry to bake and to scrub, to tug and to

toil in the kitchen?

I'm sure I could ne'er any happier be-I'm sure I don't

want the position.

Yes, go to your homes and leave me alone, and say nothing more on the topic;

My mind is made up,-I never will wed, and that's just as true as the Bible."

Then the beaux went away and cried for a week, and felt very sad and unhappy;

But Lucy sewed on and stitched right along,—her mind being free and unworried.

In the fall of the year, Miss Lucy Ann Jane Robella Belinda McHenry

Went out from her home and stayed for awhile on the banks of the Buddington river;

And while she was there, she met a young man,—a man by the name of Tim Flukins.

This Tim, be it known, was a very fine youth; no better was there in the county;

He didn't drink beer nor brandy nor wine; he didn't smoke even a toby.

And truly 'twas said he never had done a deed that was ugly or evil.

And then, let me add, Tim Flukins was just as handsome and neat as a picture.

Young ladies around had longed for his love, and hoped they could win his affection.

The only objection that any could raise to having the man in the family

Was simply the name,-'twas horrid and rough,-"Oh, dear! such a name as Tim Flukins!"

But Flukins cared not for all of the girls on the banks of the Buddington river.

His heart was still free, entirely untouched until it was touched by the sewer.

They both fell in love at the very same hour,-yes, e'en at the very same moment;

They loved with a fervor both noble and strong,—they loved with a sweeping affection.

Said Flukins one day: "Miss Lucy Ann Jane Robella Belinda McHenry,

I never before in all my born days have seen such a beautiful creature."

And Lucy surmising an offer would come went straight to the fussing and blushing.

Then Flukins proceeded to make a fine speech, his voice being mellow and tender.

"You're a very fine girl, Miss Lucy Ann Jane Robella and

so forth and so forth,

And truly I love you-I love you quite strong-1 love y with fondness, devotion;

I love you as only but once I can love, and more than ail else in creation.

The winter is coming and soon it will be you'll need a strong arm for protection;

With a great booming love I come to you now with an offer and proffer of marriage.

Now, Lucy Ann Jane and so forth and so forth, do answer me squarely and truly,

And say if you'll love me and call me your own and name a near day that you'll wed me."

Then answered the maiden, this beautiful one, and thus she replied to her lover:

"Yes, Flukins, my dear, I will keep nothing back, I love you entirely, completely;

I've loved you clean down to the depths of my heart ever since my two eyes have beheld you.

Yes, Timothy, dear, I am yours, I am yours; I know we'll be happy united;

I'll love you forever with fondness and faith that never, no, never shall waver."

Then Flukins was so overwhelmed with joy he hardly knew what he was doing;

He jumped from his seat and he laughed and he sang and his heart overflowed with emotion.

"I vow here," he said, "that my own darling one shall have no regrets for the bargain.

I'll be very kind, and so tender and true, that her love now so strong shall be stronger."

The matter closed thus-the bargain was made-the happy ones soon were united.

And now that I've told the whole story through, the prompter may ring down the curtain.

MOTHER'S DOUGHNUTS.-CHARLES F. ADAMS.
EL DORADO, 1851.

I've just bin down ter Thompson's, boys,
'N feelin' kind o' blue,

I thought I'd look in at "The Ranch,"

Ter find out what wuz new;

When I seed this sign a-hangin'

On a shanty by the lake:

"Here's whar yer gets yer doughnuts
Like yer mother used ter make."
I've seen a grizzly show his teeth,
I've seen Kentucky Pete
Draw out his shooter, 'n advise
A "tenderfoot " ter treat;
But nuthin' ever tuk me down,
'N made my benders shake,
Like that sign about the doughnuts
That my mother used ter make.
A sort o' mist shut out the ranch,
'N standin' thar instead,

I seen an old, white farm-house,
With its doors all painted red.
A whiff came through the open door-
Wuz I sleepin' or awake?

The smell wuz that of doughnuts
Like my mother used ter make.

The bees wuz hummin' round the porch,
Whar honeysuckles grew;

A yellow dish of apple-sass
Wuz settin' thar in view.
'N on the table, by the stove,
An old-time "Johnny-cake,"
'N a platter full of doughnuts
Like my mother used ter make.
A patient form I seemed ter see,
In tidy dress of black,

I almost thought I heard the words,
"When will my boy come back?"
'N then-the old sign creaked:

But now it wuz the boss who spake: "Here's whar yer gets yer doughnuts Like yer mother used ter make."

Well, boys, that kind o' broke me up,
'N ez I've "struck pay gravel,"
I ruther think I'll pack my kit,
Vamose the ranch, 'n travel.
I'll make the old folks jubilant,
'N if I don't mistake,

I'll try some o' them doughnuts
Like my mother used ter make.