She looked into Lord Ronald's eyes,
And told him all her nurse's tale.
He laughed a laugh of merry scorn;
He turned, and kissed her where she stood. "If you are not the heiress born,
And I," said he, "the next in blood,
"If you are not the heiress born,
And I," said he, "the lawful heir,
We two will wed to-morrow morn,
And you shall still be Lady Clare."
"YES, Jack Brown was a splendid fellow,
But married for love, you know;
I remember the girl very well-
Sweet little Kitty Duffau.
Pretty, and loving, and good,
And bright as a fairy elf,
I was very much tempted indeed
To marry Kitty myself.
"But her friends were all of them poor,
And Kitty had not a cent;
And I knew I should never be
With 'love in a cottage' content.
So Jack was the lucky wooer,
Or unlucky-anyway
You can see how shabby his coat,
And his hair is turning gray.
"But I'm told he thinks himself rich
With Kitty and homely joys;
A cot far away out of town,
Full of noisy girls and boys.
Poor Jack! I'm sorry, and all that,
But of course he very well knew
That fellows who marry for love
Must drink of the liquor they brew."
And the handsome Augustus smiled,
His coat was in perfect style,
And women still spoke of his grace,
And gave him their sweetest smile.
But he thought that night of Jack Brown,
And said, "I'm growing old;
I think I must really marry
Some beautiful girl with gold."
Years passed, and the bachelor grew
Tiresome, and stupid, and old;
He had not been able to find
The beautiful girl with gold. Alone with his fancies he dwelt, Alone in the crowded town, Till one day he suddenly met
The friend of his youth, Jack Brown.
"Why, Gus!" "Why, Jack!" What a meeting!
Jack was so happy and gay;
The bachelor sighed for content,
As he followed his friend away
To the cot far out of town,
Set deep in its orchard trees,
Scented with lilies and roses,
Cooled with the ocean breeze.
"Why, Jack, what a beautiful place!
What did it cost?" "Oh, it grew.
There were only three rooms at first,
Then soon the three were too few,
So we added a room now and then;
And oft in the evening hours,
Kitty, the children and I
Planted the trees and flowers.
"And they grew as the children grew
(Jack, Harry, and Grace and Belle)."
"And where are the youngsters now?"
"All happy and doing well.
Jack went to Spain for our house,-
His road is level and clear,-
And Harry's a lawyer in town,
Making three thousand a year.
"And Grace and Belle are well married,-
They married for love, as is best;
But often our birdies come back
To visit the dear home nest.
So my sweet wife Kitty and I
From labor and care may cease;
We have enough, and age can bring
Nothing but love and peace."
But over and over again
The bachelor thought that night,
"Home, and wife, and children!
Jack Brown was, after all, right.
Oh! if in the days of my youth
I had honestly loved and wed!
For now when I'm old there's no one cares
Whether I'm living or dead."
THANKSGIVING.
AMID the groanings of the dying year
A sudden stillness falls upon the air,
As if time held his breath and paused in sad and silent
Nature is wrapped in solitude, as in a pall,
Hushed is the song of merry woodland birds;
The rills but faintly murmur as they flow,
The forest trees have dropped their crown
Of scarlet, gold and russet brown,
And now they stand, like sentinels unplumed,
To see their sire, the year, entombed;
The sere and withered leaves unrustled lie-
No passing breeze to voice their mourning sigh
For the bright, transient glow that fled
When fell from heaven the fatal autumn frosts;
The barren earth is ready for the robe
That hides alike her beauty and decay.
Ere winter comes to break this perfect calm
With the wild storms that mark his cruel sway,
The earth and sea and air await man's voice
To lead their song of love and gratitude.
Raise high the anthem, oh! ye hills, and you,
Ye mountain-tops, reply with joyous shouts,
As from the temples reared by human hands
Now mouldered back to common dust,
By holy prayer and praise so consecrate,
That sunbeams fallen aslant upon the floor
Seem golden pathways leading to the skies,
Ascends this hymn of loving thankfulness:
"Praise God, who blest and brought us to this hour,
Praise Him that plenty crowns our Harvest Home,
Praise Him that by the fulness of His love
Grim death hath walked with conscious steps and slow
Amid the accustomed haunts of men,
Praise Him that His kind hand hath kept all plagues,
And wasting sickness, and distress of war
From this our well-beloved and happy land."
The circling echoes die upon the air,
All heads are bowed, and words of benediction fall
From Him whose trembling hands the bread of life
Hath broke, since these, who now in manly grace
Before Him stand, laughed in their childish glee,
As, dripping with the consecrated flood,
He laid His hand in blessing on their heads,
With kindly words and parting clasp, each turns
From friend and neighbor on this day of days.
For sire and dame have called the children home
To the dear spot that gave them birth,
Around one hearth, the hearts whose warm life-stream
Forth from the self-same fountain glowed;
Within the ruddy glow from cheerful fire
Which gleams out on the frosty air, and tells
Of joys and comforts bounteous and rich,
Prepared to crown this glad Thanksgiving Day.
Here baskets heaped with luscious fruits, and there
The sparkling cider brims the generous cup
Within the hearth-nook, stored by grandma's care;
The nuts for little ones to crack, as round
The ring flies joke, and song, and merry tale,
And spicy odors rise and mingle with
The genial warmth that glows and thrills
Each life-drop in its course to run more swift,*
The welcome summons comes, "Partake," and soon
Each guest is placed beside the generous feast.
The gray-haired sire sits in the place where he
The honor of his house maintained when two
Made all the household band, though years have fled,
And many winters turned his locks to snow,
He still presides with courteous ease and grace.
And she who crowns his life with joy, and shares
Alike his blessings and his cares, as they
The rugged path of life together walk,
Smiles on the scene, as if no hour of grief
Had marred her girlish dream of wedded bliss;
"All, all are here, who hold each other dear."
Where other eyes behold an empty space,
To her the place is filled with unseen guests,
Whose presence brings such peace and rest
As falls upon the souls of those who look
Up to the golden throne, where He who reigns
In love and wisdom perfect guides and solves
The chaos and the doubts of this, our world,
And in His own divinely chosen hour
Will turn our sorrow into joy,
And fill our mouths with songs of praise.
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