For the earth and all its beauty; For an eye of inward seeing; For the hidden scroll, o'erwritten For the tokens of thy presence Within, above, abroad; For thine own great gift of Being I thank thee, O my God! THE MAESTRO'S CONFESSION.-MARGARET J. PRESTON. (ANDREA DAL CASTAGNO-1460.) Threescore and ten! I. I wish it were all to live again. Doesn't the Scripture somewhere say, Even reach fourscore? Alack! who knows? I must die? But he Is only a fallible man, you see: Now, if it had been our father the pope, I'd slip for awhile, and turn and smile Ah, well! ah, well! "Confess"-you tell me-" and be forgiven." What, now for a score of years and more And now at the last to blab it clear! How the women will shrink from my pictures! And worse Will the men do-spit on my name, and curse; I faint! I faint! Quick, Fra Bernardo! The figure stands Whirled and grew dizzy with sudden pain, Confess? Why, yes, if I must, I must. Ah, you in your dreamy, tranquil life, For which he would barter his soul? You see, Whatever he was he owed to me. And then to be browbeat, overpassed, Stealthily jeered behind the hand! Why, that was more than a saint could stand; инн. And I was no saint. And if my soul, With a pride like Lucifer's mocked control, I lost all measure of good or ill, Whose gift was it pray? Oh, many a day Well, as I was saying, Domenico Was wont of my skill to make such light, Just open that cabinet there, and see A calm that was dead as dead could be Back swam my senses: a sickening pain The men who had borne him homeward spoke Had taken the innocent artist's life Wherefore, 'twere hard to say: all men FROM INDIA.-W. C. BENNETT. Oh! come you from the Indies, and soldier, can you tell Aught of the gallant 90th, and who are safe and well? O soldier say my son is safe--for nothing else I care, And you shall have a mother's thanks-shall have a widow's prayer." "Oh, I've come from the Indies-I've just come from the war; And well I know the 90th, and gallant lads they are; From colonel down to rank and file, I know my comrades well, And news I've brought for you, mother, your Robert bade me tell!" *And do you know my Robert, now? Oh tell me, tell me true! O soldier, tell me word for word all that he said to you! "Through Havelock's fights and marches the 90th were there; In all the gallant 90th did, your Robert did his share; Twice he went into Lucknow, untouched by steel or ball, And you may bless your God, old dame, that brought him safe through all." "Oh! thanks unto the living God that heard his mother's prayer, The widow's cry that rose on high her only son to spare! Oh bless'd be God, that turned from him the sword and shot away! And what to his old mother did my darling bid you say?" "Mother, he saved his colonel's life, and bravely it was done; In the despatch they told it all, and named and praised your son; A medal and a pension's his; good luck to him, I say, And he has not a comrade but will wish him well to-day." "Now, soldier, blessings on your tongue. O husband, that you knew How well our boy pays me this day for all that I've gone through, All I have done and borne for him the long years since you're dead! But, soldier, tell me how he looked, and all my Robert said." "He's bronzed and tanned, and bearded, and you'd hardly know him, dame, We've made your boy into a man, but still his heart's the same; For often, dame, his talk's of you, and always to one tune, But there, his ship is nearly home, and he'll be with you soon. Oh! is he really coming home, and shall I really see My boy again, my own boy, home? and when, when will it be? Did you say soon?"—" Well, he is home; keep cool, old dame; he's here." "O Robert, my own blessed boy!"-"O mother-mother dear!" THE HARP OF A THOUSAND STRINGS. I may say to you, my breethering, that I am not an edeca ted man, an' I am not one o' them as bleeves that edeca. tion is necessary fur a Gospel minister, fur I bleeve the Lord edecates his preachers jest as he wants 'em to be edecated, an', although I say it that oughtn't to say it, yet in the State of Indianny, whar I live, thar's no man as gits a bigger congregation nor what I gits. Thar may be some here to-day, my breethering, as don't know what persuasion I am uv. Well, I may say to you, my breethering, that I'm a Hardshell Baptist. Thar's some folks as don't like the Hardshell Baptists, but I'd ruther hev a hard shell as no shell at all. You see me here to-day, my breethering, drest up in fine close; you mout think I was proud, but I am not proud, my breethering, and although I've been a preacher uv the Gospel for twenty years, an' although I'm capting of that flat boat that lies at yure landing, I'm not proud, my breethering. I'm not a gwine ter tell you edzackly whar my tex may be found; suffice it to say it's in the leds of the Bible, an' you'll find it somewhar 'tween the first chapter of the book of Generation and the last chapter of the book of Revolutions, and ef you'll go and sarch the Scriptures, as I have sarched the Scriptures, you'll not only find my tex, thar, but a great many uther texes as will do you good to read, an' my tex, when |