Some to share the wine and oil,
We are told:

Devil's theories are these,

Stifling hope, and love, and peace,
Framed your hideous lusts to please,
Hunger and Cold!

10. Scatter ashes on thy head,
Tears of burning sorrow shed,
Earth! and be by pity led
To love's fold;

Ere they block the věry door
With lean corpses of the poor,

And will hush for naught but gōre

Hunger and Cold!

III.

83. NOTHING TO WEAR.

LADIES, dear ladies, the next sunny day,

LOWELL.'

Please trundle your hoops just out of Broadway,
From its whirl and its bustle, its fashion and pride,
And the temples of Trade which tower on each side,
To the alleys and lanes, where Misfortune and Guilt
Their children have gathered, their city have built-
Where Hunger and Vice, like twin beasts of prey,

Have hunted their victims to gloom and despair.
Raise the rich, dainty dress, and the fine broidered skîrt;
Pick your delicate way through the dampnèss and dirt;

Grope through the dark dens, climb the rickety 2 stâir To the garret, where wretches, the young and the old, Hälf-starved, and half-naked, lie erouched from the cold! 2. See those skeleton limbs, those frost-bitten feet,

All bleeding and bruised by the stones of the street;
Hear the sharp cry of childhood, the deep groans that swell

'James Russell Lowell, an American poet, was born in Cambridge, Mass., Feb. 22, 1819. Several editions of his collected poems have appeared in this country and in England. He has written much for the

"North American Review," the Lon
don "Daily News," and numerous
other periodicals, and is now the
editor of the "Atlantic Monthly."
2 Rick'et y, feeble in the joints;
imperfect: weak.

From the poor dying creature who writhes on the floor; Hear the cûrses that sound like Hope's dying farewell,

As you sicken, and shudder, and fly from the door;
Then hōme to your wardrobes, and say, if you dâre—
Spoiled children of Fashion-you've nothing to wear!
3. And oh ! if perchance thêre should be a sphere
Where all is made right which so puzzles us here;
Where the glâre and the glitter, and tinsel of Time
Fade and die in the light of that region sublime;
Where the soul, disenchanted 1 of flesh and of sense,
Unscreened by its trappings,2 and shows, and pretense,
Must be clothed, for the life and the service above,
With purity, truth, faith, meekness, and love;
O daughters of Earth! foolish virgins, beware!
Lest in that upper realm you have nothing to wear !

IV.

84. UNSEEN SPIRITS.

TH

HE shadows lay along Broadway-
"Twas near the twilight-tide-

And slowly there a lady fâir

Was walking in her pride.
Alone walked she; but, viewlèssly,
Walked spirits at her side.

2. Peace charmed the street beneath her feet,
And Honor charmed the âir;
And all astir looked kind on her,
And called her good and fair;
For all God ever gave to her

She kept with châry 5 câre.

3. She kept with care her beauties râre
From lovers warm and true;

1 Dis'en chant'ed, delivered from the power of spells, or charms; freed from delusion.

2 Trǎp'pings, ornaments. 3 Pre'tense', false show.

4 William Allen Butler, an American lawyer and poet, was born in

BUTLER.

Albany, N. Y., in 1825. He has contributed many papers in prose and verse to periodicals. The poem of "Nothing to Wear," from which the above is an extract, appeared in 1857, and was very popular.

5

Chary (châr'y), cautious.

For her heart was cold to all but gold-
And the rich came not to woo :

But honored well are charms to sell,
If priests the selling do.

4. Now walking there was one more fair-
A slight girl, lily-pale;

And she had unseen company

To make the spirit quail: 1

"Twixt Want and Scorn she walked forlorn,2

And nothing could avail.

5. No mercy now can clear her brow

For this world's peace to pray;

For, as love's wild prâyer dissolved in âir,
Her woman's heart gave way!

But the sin forgiven by Christ in heaven
By man is cûrsed alway!

SECTION XXIII.

I.

RATI

85. THE BOY OF RATISBON,

YOU know we French stormed Ratisbon;

You

A mile or so ǎwāy,

On a little mound, Napoleon 5

Stood on our storming day;

With neck out-thrust, you fancy how-
Legs wide, arms locked behind,
As if to balance the prone6 brow
Oppressive with its mind.

1 Quail, to become quelled; to shrink; to give way.

2 For lorn', forsaken; miserable. 8 Nathaniel Parker Willis, an American author, was born in Portland, Maine, Jan. 20, 1807. He has written much and well, both in prose and verse. His style is remarkably sprightly and graceful. No American writer has shown more skill in construction, or in a happy choice of

WILLIS.&

words. He died January 20, 1867.
4 Răt'is bon, a walled town of
Bavaria, and once its capital. Near
it, in 1809, Napoleon was wounded
in a battle with the Austrians.

5 Napoleon Bonaparte, a great warrior and statesman, first "Emperor of the French," was born at Ajaccio, in Corsica, Aug. 15, 1769, and died at St. Helena, May 5, 1621. 6 Prōne, inclined; bending forward.

2. Just as perhaps he mused, “My plans
That sōar, to earth may fall,
Let once my army-leader Lannes 1
Waver at yonder wall;"

Out 'twixt the battery-smokes thêre flew,
A rider bound on bound
Full-galloping; nor bridle drew

Until he reached the mound.

3. Then off there flung, in smiling joy,
And held himself erect

Just by his horse's mane, a boy;

You hardly could suspect

(So tight he kept his lips compressed,
Scârce any blood came through)-
You looked twice ere you saw his breast
Was all but shot in two.

4. "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace
We've got you Ratisbon !

The marshal's in the market-place,

And you'll be there anon

To see your flag-bird flap his vans

Where I, to heart's desire,

Perched him." The chief's eye flashed; his plans

Sōared up again like fire.

5. The chief's eye flashed; but presently

Softened itself, as sheathes

A film the mother-eagle's eye

When her bruised eaglèt breathes;

"You're wounded !"-"Nay," his soldier's pride
Touched to the quick, he said:

"I'm killed, sire!" And, his chief beside,
Smiling, the boy fell dead.

1 Jean Lannes (lănz), duke of Montebello, a marshal of Frånce, was born in Lectoure, old province of Guienne, April 11, 1769, and died in Vienne, May 31, 1809.

2 Robert Browning, one of the most remarkable English poets, was

BROWNING.

born in Camberwell, a suburb of London, in 1812. Though a true poet, many of his poems are not popular among the måsses. A few of his dramatic lyrics, however, of which the above is one, are unrivaled in elements of popularity.

86. THE BOY OF THE ARCTIC.

HE thick fog baffled vision,
But daylight lingered yet,

When two ships in collision,1
Upon the ocean met;

The Collision of the Arctic and the Vesta, two ocean steamers, in which the former was lost, with