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GEORGE HINES GORMAN.
And they will not bind or blind me —
I shall meet death like a man.
Need you tell her how I fall ?"
Yes, Blossom had heard it all!
She said with faltering breath, “Our Fred is never a traitor,
Though he dies a traitor's death.”
And a little sun-brown maiden,
In a shabby time-worn dress, Took her seat a half-hour later
In the crowded night express. The conductor heard her story
As he held her dimpled hand,
All over the troubled land.
From the blue eyes brimming o'er,
Till she reached the White House door.
EORGE HINES GORMAN is the second son
of Alexander M. Gorman, and Mary Edmonds Jordan, and was born in Raleigh, North Carolina, on the 29th of July, 1861. Both of his parents were persons of culture and literary distinction, and from them the son has inherited his love of literature. His father followed the profession of letters, and owned, and ably edited the Spirit of the Age, up to the time of his death in 1865. In addition to the literary work of his own publication, he was a contributor to other periodicals. Mr. Gorman's mother, who is still living, is a writer of merit. Young Gorman received his early education entirely at the hands of his mother, and, indeed, could be induced to receive instruction from no other source; and the devoted love for her which was thus early manifested in his life, has but grown the stronger with the passing years. During his school life he belonged to several literary and de. bating societies, and on two public occasions had awarded to him gold medals for oratory and eloquence. He was a student at the Raleigh Military Academy, and Washington and Lee University, in Lexington, Virginia. He was graduated from the university with distinction, in June, 1884, bringing from thence, as evidences of his ability, the Uni. versity Orator's Medal, and a prize essay medal —
the highest honors which the university could be. | stow on a student. After graduating, Mr. Gorman
located in Norfolk, Virginia, and practiced his profession, the law. Family influence, the young man's own worth, and his undoubted talents, soon brought him a large and varied practice, into which he entered with all the ardor of youth and ambition.
He remained in Norfolk two years, but at the end 1 of that time was obliged to seek a more healthy
climate. He removed to St. Paul, Minn., where he now resides,
M. E. W.
The President sat at his writing;
But the eyes were kind and mild That turned with a look of wonder
On the little shy-faced child. And he read Fred's farewell letter
With a look of sad regret. “'Tis a brave young life," he murmured,
“And his country needs him yet. From an honored place in battle
He shall bid the world good-by; If that brave young life is needed,
He shall die as heroes die."
CLING TO THE LORD.
DRUNKARD. I have mixed my drinks well, — rum, beer, and
champagne: Strong drink in the stomach is death to the brain, And death to affection. Deny it, who can ? A drunkard has only the semblance of man, The form of his Maker, degraded, accursed, The vilest of all living things, and the worst.
-Drinking Annie's Tears.
Like some grim shadow on Time's shore,
Like them a memory, nothing more, A page from out the deathless past!
-Remember The Alamo.
WHEN thy life is bright
With joyous sweet light That shines like the glorious sun,
And the path you tread
With pleasure is spread, Remember the All-Giving One.
When praises resound
And efforts are crowned With success, and fortune is won;
Forget not to raise
Thy voice in thy praise And thanks to the Bountiful One.
When burdened with care,
Wellnigh to despair,
For clouds disappear
And skies become clear With the smiles of the Purified One,
When poor or in wealth,
In sickness or health, Still cling to the Comforting One;
And constantly pray,
By night and by day, For blessings from Father and Son.
On land or at sea,
Where'er you may be, Still cling to the Merciful One;
If pleasures caress
Or sorrows distress, Still cling to the All Holy One,
I am King, and my subjects are scattered wide, But, wherever they be, they are leal and tried; And though other kings fall and their kingdoms
wane, Forever and aye must my own remain. It is one to grow greater with lapse of time, And to tower through ages to heights sublime; While the cry of my subjects for aye shall be: “ Vive la PRESS! for our King is he!" “ Vive la PRESS!” a prophetic cry, For it tells that the glorious By and By Shall be nearer each other by the rule it owns. And that all of mankind, on the earth's broad
zones, Shall the Gospel of Liberty plainly hear; And that darkness and error shall disappear; That the poor and the lowly, the weak, oppressed, Uplifted shall be, and supremely blest! Though I'm silent and lone in my basement dim, I am singing a sweeter and grander hymn Than was ever breathed forth by an earthly choir, And it thrills like the thrill of a living fire! Aye, it rings up the vales, and across the plains, And it bears a bright hope on its sweet refrains; For the beautiful theme of my thrilling song Is that Right shall be victor at last o'er Wrong!
Common griefs are the strongest chains
That friendship e'er employs; And they bind our hearts far closer Than do our common joys.
- Poetic Aphorisms.
Than pleasant thoughts, I wonder,
There are monarchs who quake at the power I
hold, And who fear that the years of their reign are told,