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the four black men took hold of them, and handed them into the boat, for their long voyage over the deep, unknown sea.
But their joy was unbounded when they saw their father and mother waiting for them on the far off shore; who, after they had welcomed tliem, took them by the hands and led them under the shade of a high palm tree, and set honey and delicious fruits on the flowery turf before them. "Oh, how poor and bitter were our roots," said the children to each other, " not frightened, but rejoiced, should we have been when the black men came to take us from that island and to bring us to this better and more beautiful land."
"Dear children," said the father, " our deliverance from the poor island to this beautiful land, has yet a higher significance to us than you see. There lies before us a still longer voyage, but also a more beautiful shore. The whole earth upon which we live is but an island also, and the heavenly land to which we are going is typified by this beautiful country. The sea we must cross again is death, but when the hour comes for the four black men and their boat, to take us over it, weep not though your mother and I should go first, and do not tremble when it comes your turn to go, for death is to the righteous but a voyage to a better land."
A DOKETOR'S DRUBBLES.—Geo. M. Warren.
I youst to bin a doketor vonce,
Vat koored all kints ov gases,
A goot mainy deaferenl fases.
Vor dwendy milse round vere I leved,
De beeple vas gwite seekly;—
Und zo I vound um veekly.
Soam vas seek mit vone decease,—
Und soam dey had anoder,
Vrom one ent do de oder.
Bud pooty soon I vound dot oud
My bocket book vas dhry,
Vas runing oval high."
So I vent oud collecting,
Bud aifery vere I vent,
Dey vas not vort a ceudt.
Und I vent und seed vone men,
I doght de g wicker I got dot,
So I showed de men hees node,
Und I dold heem do pay; Hees dime vas shoost up,
Dot vos hees lasht tay.
Hees hands vas in each bocked,
He died—und hees lasht vords vas,
Und vone sed do me, " Doketor
Howefer can I pay?
I'm vailing afery tay."
Und anoder vailer dold me,
You got dot oil vat's due you
I eshked vone men vor hees sheck,
But I vound he hadn't no dime,
Und I found dish wash de drubble—
Een my kase ainy vay— De beeple vot I doketored
Heddent cents enoff to bay.
You'f hurt dot goot old sayink,
I dink id combs out desewise—
Und so it ess mit de doketor
Und he tails him " I ken't do id,"
I vent beck to my offus,
Und togedder mit dese drubble
Now I vood say doo de doketors,
Dond naifer loose your batients,
No metter vots de reason,
You may loose your bay in dese vorldt,
DIMES AND DOLLARS.—Henry Millb.
"Dimes and dollars! dollars and dimes!"
A sound on the gong, and the miser rose,
And his laden coffer did quickly close,
And locked secure. "These are the times
For a man to look after his dollars and dimes.
A letter! Ha! from my prodigal son.
The old tale—poverty. Pshaw, begone!
Why did ho marry when I forbade7
As he has sown, so be must reap;
But I my dollars secure will keep.
A sickly wife and starving times?
He should have wed with dollars and dimes."
Thickly the hour of midnight fell;
Doors and windows were bolted well.
"Ha!" cried the miser, " not so bad :—
A thousand dollars to-day I've made.
Money makes money; these are the times
To double and treble the dollars and dimes.
Now to sleep, and to-morrow to plan ;—
Rest is sweet to a wearied man."
And he fell asleep with the midnight chimes —
Dreaming of glittering dollars and dimes.