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At length the old man's limbs grew weak,

His eyes grew pale and dim:
The helpless child he sheltered first,

Became a guide to him;
And when, as in a quiet dream.

His spirit passed away,
'Twas she who knelt beside Ms couch

Whose lips he taught to pray.
Alone she wanders through the lane

They roved in summer weather, And gazing on the stars, she sighs,

"We there may bide together!"

J. E. Carpenter,

WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE.

Woodman, spare that tree!

Touch not a single bough! In youth it sheltered me,

And I'll protect it now. 'Twas my forefather's hand

That placed it near his cot: There, woodman, let it stand—

Thy axe shall harm it not!

That old familiar tree,

Whose glory and renown Are spread o'er land and sea,

And wouldst thou hew it down 1 Woodman, forbear thy stroke!

Cut not its earth-bound ties; Oh, spare that aged oak,

Now towering to the skies!

When but an idle boy,

I sought its grateful shade;

In all their gushing joy,
Here, too, my sisters played.

My mother kissed me here;
My father pressed my hand—

Forgive this foolish tear,
But let that old oak stand!

My heart-strings round thee cling

Close as thy bark, old friend! Here shall the wild-bird sing,

And still thy branches bend. Old tree, the storm still brave!

And, woodman, leave the spot;— While I've a hand to save,

Thy axe shall harm it not!

Q. P. Morris.

THE RISING MOON.

The moon is up! How calm and slow'
She wheels above the hill!

The weary winds forget to blow,
And all the world lies still.

The way-worn travellers with delight

The rising brightness see, Revealing all the paths and plains,

And gilding every tree.

It glistens where the hurrying stream

Its little ripple leaves;
It falls upon the forest shade,

And sparkles on the leaves.

So once, on Judah's evening hills,
The heavenly lustre spread;

The gospel sounded from the blaze,
And shepherds gazed with dread.

And still that light upon the world

Its guiding splendour throws; Bright in the opening hours of life, But brighter at the close.

Fkabody.

THE PIED PIPER OF HAMEIIN.

Hamelin town's in Brunswick,

By famous Hanover city:
The Biver Weser, deep and wide,
Washes its wall on the southern side;
A pleasanter spot you never spied;

But, when begins my ditty,
Almost five hundred years ago,
To see the townsfolk suffer so

From vermin, was a pity.

Bats!

They fought the dogs, and killed the cats,

And bit the babies ill the cradles; And ate the cheeses out of the vats,

And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles; Split open the kegs of salted sprats, Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, And even spoiled the women's chats,

By drowning their speaking

With shrieking and squeaking In fifty different sharps and flats.

At last the people in a body

To the Town Hall came flocking:
'"Tis clear," cried they, "our mayor's a noddy;

And as for our corporation—shocking:
To think we buy gowns lined with ermine
For dolts that can't or won't determine
What's best to rid us of our vermin!
You hope, because you're old and obese,
To find in the furry civic robe ease.
Rouse up, sirs! Give your brains a racking
To find the remedy we're lacking,
Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing!"
At this the mayor and corporation
Quaked with a mighty consternation.

An hour they sate in council;

At length the mayor broke silence: "For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell;

I wish I were a mile hence! It's easy to bid one rack one's brain— I'm sure my poor head aches again, I've scratched it so, and all in vain. O for a trap, a trap, a trap!" Just as he said this, what should hap At the chamber door but a gentle tap 1 "Bless us !" cried the mayor, "what's that?" "Only a scraping of shoes on the mat; Anything like the sound of a rat Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!" "Come in !" the mayor cried, looking bigger; And in did come the strangest figure! His queer long coat, from heel to head, Was half of yellow and half of red; And he himself was tall and thin, With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin, And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin; No tuft on, cheek, nor beard on chin, But lips where smiles went out and in— There was no guessing his kith and kin. And nobody could enough admire The tall man and his quaint attire: Quoth one, "It's as my great grandsire, Starting up at the trump of doom's tone, Had walked this way from his painted tombstone!"

He advanced to the council table,

And "Please your honours," said he, "I'm able,

By means of a secret charm, to draw

All creatures living beneath the sun,

That creep, or swim, or fly, or run,
After me so as you never saw!
And I chiefly use my charm
On creatures that do people harm—
The mole, the toad, and newt, and viper;
And people call me the Pied Piper."

(And here they noticed round his neck

A scarf of red and yellow stripe, To match with his coat of the self-same check:

And at the scarf's end hung a pipe; And his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying, As if impatient to be playing Upon this pipe, as low it dangled Over his vesture so old-fangled.) "Yet," said he, "poor piper as I am, In Tartary I freed the Cham,

Last June, from his huge swarms of gnats; I eased in Asia the Nizam

Of a monstrous brood of vampyre bats; And, as for what your brain bewilders,

If I can rid your town of rats, Will you give me a thousand guilders?" "One 1—fifty thousand !" was the exclamation Of the astonished mayor and corporation.

Into the street the piper stepped,

Smiling first a little smile,
As if he knew what magic slept

In his quiet pipe the while;
Then like a musical adept,
To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled,
And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled,
Like a candle flame where salt is sprinkled;
And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered,
You heard as if an army muttered;
And the muttering grew to a grumbling;
And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling;
And out of the houses the rats came tumbling!
Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats,
Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats,
Grave old plodders, gay young friskers,

Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, Curling tails and pricking whiskers,

Families by tens and dozens, Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives— Followed the piner for their lives.

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