stripes, full of proud and pleasing and honorable recollections, for the spurious invention with no antecedents but the history of a violated Constitution and of lawless ambition? No! let us stand by the emblem of our fathers: "Flag of the free heart's hope and home, By angel hands to valor given, And all thy hues were born in heaven." Give up the Union? Never! The Union shall endure, and its praises shall be heard,when its friends and its foes, those who support and those who assail, those who bared their bosoms in its defence, and those who aim their daggers at its heart, shall all sleep in the dust together. Its name shall be heard with veneration amid the roar of Pacific's waves, away upon the rivers of the north and east, where liberty is divided from monarchy, and be wafted in gentle breezes upon the Rio Grande. It shall rustle in the harvest and wave in the standing corn, on the extended prairies of the West, and be heard in the bleating folds and lowing herds upon a thousand hills. It shall be with those who delve in mines, and shall hum in the manufactories of New England, and in the cotton-gins of the South. It shall be proclaimed by the stars and stripes in every sea of the earth, as the American Union, one and indivisible; upon the great thoroughfares, wherever steam drives and engines throb and shriek, its greatness and perpetuity shall be hailed with gladness. It shall be lisped in the earliest words, and ring in the merry voices of childhood, and well to heaven upon the song of maidens. It shall live in the stern resolve of manhood, and rise to the mercy-seat upon woman's gentle, availing prayer. Holy men shall invoke its perpetuity at the altars of religion, and it shall be whispered in the last accents of expiring age. Thus shall survive and be perpetuated the American Union, and when it shall be proclaimed that time shall be no more, and the curtain shall fall, and the good shall be gathered to a more perfect union, still may the destiny of our dear land recognize the conception, that "Perfumes. as of Eden, flowed sweetly along, The queen of the world, and the child of the skies!" THERE ONCE WAS A TOPER. There once was a toper-I'll not tell his name- And she'd huff him, and cuff him, and call him hard names; It happened, one night, on a frolic he went, But how to go home, and get safely to bed, Was the thing on his heart that most heavily weighed. And off he went singing, by this and by that, If she aint, 'tis no matter, I'm sure: who's afraid?” He peeped, and he listened, and ali seemed quite still; He crept about softly, and spoke not a word, His wife seemed to sleep, for she never e'en stirred! And groping around, to the table he goes, The pitcher found empty,-and so was the bowl, The pail and the tumblers; she'd emptied the whole! At length in a corner, a vessel he found; Says he, "Here's something to drink, I'll be bound!" And eagerly seizing, he lifted it up And drank it all off, in one long hearty sup! It tasted so queerly; and, what it could be, He wondered-it neither was water, nor tea! Just then a thought struck him and filled him with fear. "Oh! it must be the poison for rats, I declare!" And loudly he called on his dear sleeping wife, Oh, dear! yes, it was poison, I now feel the pain!” THE CUMBERLAND.-H. W. LONGFELlow. At anchor in Hampton Roads we lay, Or a bugle-blast From the camp on the shore. Then far away to the South uprose A little feather of snow-white smoke, And we knew that the iron ship of our foes To try the force Of our ribs of oak. Down upon us heavily runs, Silent and sullen, the floating fort; Then comes a puff of smoke from her guns, And leaps the terrible death, With fiery breath, From each open port. We are not idle, but send her straight From each iron scale Of the monster's hide. "Strike your flag! the rebel cries, "It is better to sink than to yield!" With the cheers of our men. Then, like a kraken huge and black, And the cannon's breath For her dying gasp. Next morn as the sun rose over the bay, Every waft of the air Was a whisper of prayer, Or a dirge for the dead. Ho! brave hearts that went down in the seas! Ye are at peace in the troubled stream. Thy flag, that is rent in twain, Shall be one again, And without a seam! THE RIDE FROM GHENT TO AIX.-ROBERT BROWNING I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; "Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew; "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through; Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, And into the midnight we galloped abreast. Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace Neck by neck, stride for stride, never changing our place; 'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near At Duffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be ; And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime, At Aerschot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, To stare through the mist at us galloping past, And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, “Stay spur! As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. So we were left galloping, Joris and 1, Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky, The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, 'Neath our feet broke the brittle, bright stubble like chaff; Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight!" "How they'll greet us!"--and all in a moment his roan Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall, Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer; good Till at length into Aix, Roland galloped and stood. And all I remember is, friends flocking round As I sate with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground, Was no more than his due who brought good news from |