A PHILOPENA.

ALL day the Princess ran away,

All day the Prince ran after;

The palace grand and courtyard gray
Rang out with silvery laughter.

"What, ho!" the King, in wonder, cried,

"What means this strange demeanor?"
"Your Majesty," the Queen replied,
"It is the Philopena!

Our royal daughter fears to stand
Lest she takes something from his hand;
The German Prince doth still pursue,
And this doth cause the sweet ado."
Then, in a lowered voice, the King:
"I'll wage he hath a weeding ring.
Our royal guest is brave and fair
They'd make, methinks, a seemly pair!"

But still the Princess ran away,

And still the Prince ran after,
While palace grand and courtyard gray
Rang out with silvery laughter.

THE STARS.

THEY wait all day unseen by us, unfelt;
Patient they bide behind the day's full glare;
And we who watched the dawn when they
were there,

Thought we had seen them in the daylight melt,
While the slow sun upon the earth-line knelt.

Because the teeming sky seemed void and bare, When we explored it through the dazzled air, We had no thought that there all day they dwelt. Yet were they over us, alive and true,

In the vast shades far up above the blue,-
The brooding shades beyond our daylight ken-
Serene and patient in their conscious light,
Ready to sparkle for our joy again,-

The eternal jewels of the short-lived night.

CHARLES G. WHITING.

CHA

HARLES GOODRICH WHITING was born at St. Albans, Vt., January 30, 1842, being the eldest child of Calvin and Mary (Goodrich) Whiting. Mr. Whiting's parents removed to Massachusetts when he was four or five years old, and he has lived all his life, save for a year in Southern New Jersey, within twenty-five miles of Springfield. He went to school very little, on account of delicate health, worked in a paper mill, on a farm, kept country store, and in fact did whatever came to hand in the common Yankee fashion. Having acquired a little Latin, a little French, and a good general acquaintance with history and English literature, he began the business of life when he was twenty-six years old by getting a place as reporter on the Springfield Republican. On that journal he has remained ever since, a period of twenty-one years, excepting for a year and a half spent at Albany, N. Y., in 1871-2, upon the Albany Times,-now an able Democratic journal conducted, as then, by T. C. Callicot. Mr. Whiting has been since February, 1874, literary writer and general editorial writer on the Springfield Republican, which department has the reputation of being one of the best appearing in any daily paper in this country. On the organization of the Republican company in 1878, after the death of the celebrated Samuel Bowles, he became a partner of the company. He has published one book "The Saunterer," containing selections of prose and verse. September, 1885, he wrote an ode of considerable length, irregular and unrhymed, for the most part, for the dedication of a soldiers' monument in Springfield. In acknowledgment the Grand Army Post of that city presented him an elaborately printed and bound copy of the ode, and this Mr. he regards as the principal honor of his life. Whiting is a member of the Authors Club, New York. N. L. M.

In

TRAILING ARBUTUS.
WHEN the gray air breathes chill in early spring,
And coldly fall the cheerless sunset gleams;
When the sere grasses rustle, whispering
Of life that is, of death that only seems;
When the wild wind soughs in the weaving wood,
With secret summoning of bud and leaf,
And wails along the bare and withered rood
As in an ecstasy of lonely grief,
Then, springing from decaying fern and sedge,-
First signal of the new-awakening earth,—
On sunny slopes along the forest edge,

Surprising with its loveliness their dearth
The blessed arbutus but half conceals
The tender beauty its perfume reveals.