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THE BROOK.—Alfred Tennyson.

I come from haunts of coot and hern;

I make a sudden sally,
And sparkle out among the fern,

To bicker down a valley.

By thirsty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,

By twenty thorps, a little town,
And half u hundred bridges.

Till last by Philip's farm I flow
To join the brimming river,

For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.

I chatter over stony ways.
In little sharps and trebles,

I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.

With many a curve my banks I fret,
By many a field and fallow,

And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.

I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river,

For men may come and men may go
But I go on forever.

I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing,

And here and there a lusty trout,
And here aud there a grayling;

And here and there a foamy flake

Upon me, as I travel,
With many a silvery waterbreak

Above the golden gravel;

And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river;

For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.

I steal by lawns and grassy plots,

I slide by hazel covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots

That grow for happy lovers.

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I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Among my skimming swallows:

I make the netted sunbeams dance
Against my sandy shallows.

I murmur under moon and stars

In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;

I loiter round my cresses;

And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river,

For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.

MORE CRUEL THAN WAR.

A Southern prisoner of war at Camp Chase in Ohio, after pining of sickness in the hospital there for some time, and confiding to his friend and fellow captive, Colonel W. S. Hawkins, of Tennessee, that he was heavy of heart because his affianced bride in Nashville did not write to him, died just before the arrival of a letter in which the lady curtly broke the engagement Colonel Hawkins had been requested by his dying comrade to open any epistle which should come for him thereafter, and, upon reading the letter in question, penned the following versified answer:

Your letter, lady, came too late,

For heaven had claimed its own;
Ah, sudden change—from prison bars

Unto the great white throne!
And yet I think he would have stayed,

To live for his disdain,
Could he have read the careless words

Which you have sent in vain.

So full of patience did he wait,

Through many a weary hour,
That o'er his simple soldier faith

Not even death had power;
And you—did others whisper low

Their homage in your ear,
As though amongst their shallow throng

His spirit had a peer?

I would that you were by me now,

To draw the sheet aside,
And see how pure the look he wore

The moment when he died.
The sorrow that you gave to him

Had left its weary trace,
As 'twere the shadow of the cross

Upon his pallid face.

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"Her love," he said, " could change for me

The winter's cold to spring;"
Ah, trust in fickle maiden's love,

Thou art a bitter thing!
For when these valleys, bright in May,

Once more with blossoms wave,
The northern violets shall blow

Above. his humble grave.

Your dole of scanty words had been

But one more pang to bear,
For him who kissed unto the last

Your tress of golden hair;
I did not put it where he said,

For when the angels come,
I would not have them find the sign

Of falsehood in his tomb.

I've read your letter, and I know

The wiles that you had wrought To win that noble heart of his,

And gained it—cruel thought!
What lavish wealth men sometimes give

For what is worthless all;
What manly bosoms beat for truth

In folly's falsest thrall!

You shall not pity him, for now

His sorrow has an end; Yet would that you could stand with me

Beside my fallen friend;
And I forgive you for his sake,

As he—if it be given—
May e'en be pleading grace for you

Before the court of heaven.

To-night the cold winds whistle by,

As I my vigil keep
Within the prison dead-house, where

Few mourners come to weep.
A rude plank coffin holds his form;

Yet death exalts his face,
And I would rather see him thus

Than clasped in your embrace.

To-night your home may shine with light,

And ring with merry song, And you be smiling, as your soul

Had done no deadly wrong; Your hand so fair that none would think

It penned these words of pain;

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Your skin so white—would God, your heart
Were half as free from stain!

I'd rather be mv comrade dead

Than you in fife supreme;
For your's the sinner's waking dread,

And his the martyr's dream.
Whom serve we in this life, we serve

In that which is to come;
He chose his way; you your's; let God

Pronounce the fitting doom.

THE COUNTRY'S GREATEST EVIL.

A thort speech by Vice-President Henry Wilson, delivered at the National Temperance Convention, in Chicago, June, 1875.

Forty years of experience and observation have taught me that the greatest evil of our country, next, at any rate, to the one that has gone down in fire and blood to rise no more, is the evil of intemperance. Every day's experience, every hour of reflection, teaches me that it is the duty of patriotism, the duty of humanity, the duty of Christianity, to live Christian lives, and to exert temperance influence among the people.

There was a time, when I was younger than I am now, when I hoped to live long enough to see the cause which my heart loves and my judgment approves stronger than it is to-day. I may be mistaken, but it seems to me that the present is a rather dark and troubled night for that cause, and it is because it so seems to me that I believe it to be the duty of every honest, conscientious, self-sacrificing man of our country to speak and to work for the cause in every legitimate and proper way. And my reliance for the advancement of the cause of temperance is the same reliance which I have for the spread of the Gospel of our Divine Lord and Master.

The heart, the conscience and the reason must be appealed to continually; and Christian men and women must remember that the heart of Christianity is temperance. If it costs a sacrifice, give it. What is sacrifice to doing good and

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