And answered, with the ready truth And open frankness of her youth, * At school.” “Who keeps it?” “Uncle Sam.” "Alas!" he screamed, in frantic grief, THE SOLDIER'S PARDON.-JAMES SMITH. Wild blew the gale in Gibraltar one night, And anon, 'mid the darkness, the moon's silver light Nought could she reveal, but a man true as steel, And the glance of his eye might the grim king defy, But in rage he had struck a well-merited blow And his fate soon was sealed, for alas! honest Joe Oh! sad was the thought to a man that had fought To be shot through the breast at a coward's behest, The night call had sounded, when Joe was aroused 'Twas a comrade with whom he had often caroused, "Ah, Tom! is it you come to bid me adieu? "Tis kind, my lad! give me your hand! Nay-nay-don't get wild, man, and make me a child!I'll be soon in a happier land!" With hands clasped in silence, Tom mournfully said, 66 Have you any request, Joe, to make? Remember by me 'twill be fully obeyed: Can I anything do for your sake?" When it's over, to-morrow!" he said, filled with sorrow, "Send this token to her whom I've sworn All my fond love to share!"-'twas a lock of his hair, "Here's this watch for my mother; and when you write home," And he dashed a bright tear from his eye Say I died with my heart in old Devonshire, Tom, Then the sergeant on guard, at the grating appeared, By the moon's waning light, with a husky "Good-night! Gray dawned the morn in a dull, cloudy sky, "Shoulder arms was the cry as the prisoner passed by: And their pale faces proved how their comrade was loved, And by all his brave regiment adored. Right onward they marched to the dread field of doom: Then they formed into line amid sadness and gloom, As he knelt on the sand, and with uplifted hand, -"Present!"-struck a chill on each mind; With a thrilling "Hurrah!- -a free pardon!-huzzah!" Soon the comrades were locked in each other's embrace: No more stood the brave soldiers dumb: With a loud cheer, they wheeled to the right-about-face, And a brighter day dawned in sweet Devon's fair land, And he gave her a token-true, warm, and unbroken- AWAY FROM THE WINE-CUP, AWAY! "Away from the wine-cup, away, my boy, Away from the tempter's subtle wiles, Ere he claim you as his prey!" 'Twas a mother's warning, loving voice, that bade her son beware, For her faithful heart foresaw in the cup a hidden, lurking snare; And she dreaded the convict's weary cell-the drunkard's unwept grave. For she knew the vigils mothers keep for those they would die to save; And again her tones of saintly love, that thrilled with accents mild, With clarion power rang out that night, to guard her erring child. "Haste, haste, my boy, for a serpent lurks In that vintage rare and old, With as deadly a coil as the one that winds But her son still sat in the hall of mirth while sport and jest were high; For what cared he for her pleading words, or her bitter wailing cry? The shrill night wind went shrieking past, and the mockers laughed with joy, As they pledged in the wine-cup's ruddy red, “ The widow's darling boy!" And they said, "Here's warmth, and life, and cheer; and the chains her fancy sees Are but links of flowers-the daisy chains! We'll snap them when we please!" They shouted in glee, until there arose A drunkard, with age bowed down, Who strove with his feeble and trembling voice, Their unseemly words to drown. "Behold," cried he, "the piteous wreck a thirst for strong drink has made! What I am now you yet may be, by the self-same foe betrayed! You look on me as a loathsome wretch, a thing for scoffs and jeers, To be hooted at by boys in the streets-too low for a woman's tears! But a mother's love once plead for me, as now your mother pleads As I think how I broke her faithful heart, my heart with anguish bleeds!" His palsied hand then dropped to his side, And the old man gasped for breath; While a thrill of horror ran through the crowd, For they felt 'twas the stroke of death! Then over the form of the poor old man, whom they had oft abhorred, With right hands raised in sight of death, they pledged, with one accord, To taste no more of the flowing bowl, or "look on the wine when red." Lest they should fill unhonored graves or lie as the unmourned dead; And by the faith of a mother's love, that had plead for her son that night, They pledged henceforth, their hearts and lives to temperance, truth, and right. New York Weekly. BENEATH THE SURFACE.-W. F. Fox. Beneath the surface there is wealth, As deepest currents ever glide So hearts their richest treasures hide, We see the light that faintly beams; We fail to trace the flame that gleams We deem the mountains proud and grand; Though high their heads, their golden sand We ever judge by outward show The wealth that lies within, And by the surface we would know The rank and dress will oft deceive For merit true we oft perceive We gather stones that round us lie, And many thoughts that fill the mind, Are, like the gems we never find, And many hearts beat warm with love The objects that we cherish most THE OFFICE-SEEKER'S PLATFORM. No man can be truly great without money, and the easi est way to get money is to take it on every occasion, no matter whose it may be. I mean to be truly great. It is safe to say, the way society is now constituted, that an honest man is a fool; and if a knave is not the noblest work of God, then what is he? I think that is very well put-what is he? Look at him as he moves in the highest circles of society, swaggers along the sidewalk, talks of stocks, bonds, and mortgages, and boasts his untold wealth, and say what is he? As for me, I mean to move in the highest circles of society. I am going to Congress to make money. I shall refuse no bribe, and .shut my eyes to corruption. I care nothing for my constituents; let them look out for themselves. That is their business; my business is to get money, and be truly great, and move in the highest circles of society. Hon |