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"Well, old man, I'm that Bill Jackson—
Can't you my face recall?"

What!—just flip me your fin, my youngster I
Ah! now I see it all.

You'll surely forgive my prattle;

The hard, hard words I said
When you and Jennie were courting,

And after you were wed.
That baby 'way out in Kansas,

That boy in Tuscaloo,
Has made me love its big father;

Now what can't babies do?

8AVE THE OTHER MAN.—Margaret J. Preston.

The storm had spent its rage: The sea

Still moaned with sullen roar,
And flung its surges wrathfully
Against the shelving shore;

And wide and far,
With plank and spar
The beach was splintered o'er.

A league from land a wreck was seen,

Above whose wave-washed hull,
Fast-wedged the jutting rocks between,
Circled a snow-white gull,

Whose shrieking cry
Rose clear and high
Above the tempest's lull.

"Hoy!—To the rescue!—Launch the boatl

I see a drifting speck:
Some struggler may be still afloat,—
Some sailor on the deck:

Quick ! ply the oar,—
Put from the shore,
And hoard the foundered wreck!"

Right through the churning plunge of spray,

Whirled like an ocean shell,
The hardy life-boat warped its way,
As billows rose and fell;

And boldly cast
Its grapnel fast
Above the reefy swell.

Around the bows the breakers sobbed

With low, defiant moan;
When instant, every bosom throbbed,
Held by one sound alone;

Somewhere—somewhere—
Upon the air
There thrilled a human groan.

One moment—and they cloinb the wreck,

And there, a ghastly form
Lay huddled on the heaving deck,
With living breath still warm,—
Too dead to hear
The shout of cheer
That mocked the dying storm.

But as they lowered him from the ship

With kindly care as can
Befit rough hands, across his lip
A whispered ripple ran:

They stooped and heard
The slow-drawn word
Breathed,—" Save—the—oiherman!"

******

Oh! ye who once on gulfing waves

Of sin were tempest-toss'd,—
Ye who are safe through Him who saves
At such transcendent cost,—
Will ye who yet
Can rescue, let
The other man be lost?

THE WEARY SOUL.

I came, but they had passed away,

The fair in form, the pure in mind; And, like a stricken deer, I stray,

Where all are strange, and none are kmd; Kind to a worn and wearied soul,

That pants, that struggles for repose: Oh, that my steps had reached the goal

Where earthly sighs and sorrows close I

Years have passed o'er me like a dream,
That leaves no trace on memory's page,

I look around me, and I seem
Some relic of a former a»je;

Alone, and in a stranger clime,

Where stranger voices mock mine ear,—
In all the lagging course of time,

Without a wish—a hope—a fear!

Yet I had hopes—but they have fled;

And fears—and they were all too true;
And wishes too—but they are dead,
And what have / with life to do?
Tis but to bear a weary load
I may not, dare not, east away,

Where / may sleep as sweet as they—

As they, the loveliest of their race,

Whose grassy tombs my sorrows steep,
Whose worth my soul deiights to trace,

Whose very loss 'tis sweet to weep:
To weep, forgotten and unknown,

With none to smile, to hear, to see;—
Earth can bestow no dearer boon

On one whom death disdains to free.

I leave a world that knows me not,

To hold communion with the dead,
And fancy consecrates the spot,

Where fancy's earliest dreams were shed.
I see each shade, all silvery white,

I hear each spirit's melting sigh;
I turn to chtxp (how forms of light,

And the pale morning chills mine eye!

But soon the last dim morn shall rise—

My lamp of life burns feebly now,—
Where stranger hands shall close mine eyes,

And smooth my cold and dewy brow:
Unknown I lived—so let me die;

No stone, nor monumental cross,
Tell where his mouldering ashes lie,

Who sought for gold, and found it dross.

LOVE IN A BALLOON.—Litchfield Moseley.

Some time ago I was staying with Sir George Flasher, with a great number of people there—all kinds of amusements going on. Driving, riding, fishing, shooting, everything, in fact. Sir George's daughter, Fanny, was often my companion in these expeditions, and I was considerably struck with hcr, for she was a girl to whom the epithet "stunning" applies better than any other that I am acquainted with. She could ride like Nimrod, she could drive like Jehu, she could row like Charon, she could dance like Terpsichore, she could row like Diana, she walked like Juno, and she looked like Venus. I've even seen her smoke.

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Oh, she was a stunner! you should have heard that girl whistle, and laugh—you should have heard her laugh. She was truly a delightful companion. We rode together, drove together, fished together, walked together, danced together, sang together; I called her Fanny, and she called me Tom, All this could have but one termination, you know. I fell in love with her and determined to take the first opportunity of proposing. So one day when we were out together, fishing on the lake, I went down on my knees amongst the gudgeons, seized her hand, pressed it to my waistcoat, and in burning accents entreated her to become my wife.

"Don't be a fool." she said. "Now drop it, do, and put me a fresh worm on."

"Oh, Fanny!" I exclaimed; "don't talk about worms when marriage is in question. Only say—"

"I tell you what it is, now," she replied, angrily, " if you don't drop it I'll pitch you out of the boat."

Gentlemen, I did not drop it, and I give you my word of honor, with a sudden shove she sent me flying into the water; then seizing the sculls, with a stroke or two she put several yards between us, and burst into a fit of laughter that fortunately prevented her from going any further. I swam up and climbed into the boat. "Jenkins," said I to myself, "revenge! revenge!" I disguised my feelings. I laughed—hideous mockery of mirth—I laughed, pulled to the bank, went to the house and changed my clothes. When I appeared at the dinner-table, I perceived that every one had been informed of my ducking. Universal laughter greeted me. During dinner Fanny repeatedly whispered to her neighbor and glanced at me. Smothered laughter invariably followed. "Jenkins !" said I, " revenge!" The opportunity soon offered. There was to be a balloon ascent from the lawn, and Fanny had tormented her father into letting her ascend with the aeronaut. I instantly took my plans; bribed the aeronaut to plead illness at the moment when the machine should have risen; learned from him the management of the halloon, though I understood that pretty well before, and calmly awaited the result. The day came. The weather was tine. The balloon was inflated. Fanny was in the car. Everything was ready, when the aeronaut suddenly fainted. He was carried into the he ise, and Sir George accompanied him. Fanny was in despair.

"Am I to lose my air expedition?" she exclaimed, looking over the side of the car; "some one understands the management of this thing, surely? Nobody! Tom!" she willed out to me, " you understand it, don't you?"

"Perfectly," I answered.

"Come along, then," she cried; "be quick, before papa comes back."

The company in general endeavored to dissuade her from her project, but of course in vain. After a decent show of hesitation, I climbed into the car. The balloon was cast off, and rapidly sailed heavenward. There was scarcely a breath of wind, and we rose almost straight up. We rose above the house, and she laughed and said, "How jolly I"

We were higher than the highest trees, and she smiled, and said it was very kind of me to come with her. We were so high that the people below looked mere specks, and she hoped that I thoroughly understood the management of the balloon. Now was my time.

"I understand the going up part," I answered; " to come down is not so easy," and I whistled.

"What do you mean?" she cried.

"Why, when you want to go up faster, you throw some sand overboard," T replied, suiting the action to the word.

"Don't be foolish, Tom," she said, trying to appear quite calm and indifferent, but trembling uncommonly.

"Foolish!" I said; "oh dear, no, but whether I go along the ground or up in the air I like to go the pace, and so do you, Fanny, I know. Go it, you cripples!" and over went another sand-bag.

"Why, you're mnd. surely," she whispered, in utter terror, and tried to reach the buss, but I kept her back.

"Only with love, my dear," I answered, smiling pleasantly;

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