Rode in and sabered and shot-and fell; Struck dead in their saddles, of brave dragoons Over them now,-year following year,— And the whip-poor-will chants his specter-call; They have ceased. But their glory shall never cease, The rush of their charge is resounding still That saved the army at Chancellorsville. -Scribner's Monthly. GOLD.-THOMAS HOOD. Gold! gold! gold! gold! Bright and yellow, hard and cold, Molten, graven, hammered and rolled; Heavy to get, and light to hold; Hoarded, bartered, bought, and sold, Stolen, borrowed, squandered, doled : Spurned by the young, but hugged by the old Gold! gold! gold! gold! Good or bad a thousand-fold! How widely its agencies vary,— To save, to ruin, to curse, to bless, As even its minted coins express, Now stamped with the image of good Queen Bess, And now of a Bloody Mary. A MOTHER'S ANSWER.-LILLIE E. BARR. Over the lofty Ben-Lomond And there, in the still, warm evening, The sorrow grew wondrous near;— Thoughtful all sat a little space, And then the Dominie said: "David, couldst thou have done this thing?" For I have found through eighty years "Janet, you've been a mother oft, Could your faith have stood this test?" Believe our Father no poor soul PUBLIC OPINION.-CANON FARRAR. The point of view from which I shall speak is that of total abstinence. It is, I know, the unpopular view, the depreciated view, the despised view. By taking it I rank myself among those of whom some speak as unpractical bigots and ignorant fanatics. But, because I believe it in the present need to be the only effective remedy for an otherwise hopeless evil, therefore I take it undeterred. Public opinion, my brethren, is a grand power. It is a mighty engine for good if we can array it on our side. He who despises it must be either more or less than man; he must be puffed up by a conceit which mars his usefulness, or he must be too abject to be reached by scorn. He, therefore, that affects to despise public opinion stands self-condemned; but yet public opinion has, many a time, been arrayed on the side of wrong; and he who is not afraid to brave it in defence of righteousness, he who, in a cause which he knows to be good, but which his fellow-men do not yet understand, is willing to be ranked among the idiots and fools, he is a partaker with all those who, through faith and patience, have inherited the promises. It was thus-it was for the cause of scientific truth-that Roger Bacon bore his long imprisonment, and Galileo sat contented in his cell; it was thus-it was for the cause of religious truth-that Luther stood undaunted before kings; it was thus that, to wake the base slum. bers of a greedy age, Wesley and Whitefield were content to "stand pilloried on infamy's high stage, and bear the pelting scorn of half an age," it was thus that Wilberforce faced in Parliament the sneers and rage of wealthy slave-owners; it was thus, "in the teeth of clenched antagonisms," that education was established, that missions were founded, that the cause of religious liberty was won. The persecuted object of to-day is the saint and exemplar of to-morrow. St. John enters the thronged streets of the capital of Asia as a despised Galilean and an unnoticed exile; but, when generations have passed away, it is still his name which clings to its indistinguishable ruins. St. Paul stands, in his ragged gabardine, too mean for Gallio's supreme contempt; but to-day the cathedral dedicated to his honor towers over the vast imperial city where the name of Gallio is not so much as heard. "Count we over the chosen heroes of this earth," says a great orator, "and I will show you the men who stood alone, while those for whom they toiled and agonized poured on them contumely and scorn. They were glorious iconoclasts, sent out to break down the Dagons worshiped by their fathers. The very martyrs of yesterday, who were hooted at, whom the mob reviled and expatriated;-to-day the children of the very generation who mobbed and reviled them, are gathering up their scattered ashes to deposit them in the golden urn of their nation's history!" THE BEST SEWING-MACHINE. "Got one? Don't say so! Which did you get? Own it or hire it? How much did you pay? "Mine is not one of those stupid affairs That stands in a corner with what-nots and chairs, And makes that dismal, headachy noise And wears a shawl and a soft kid glove; And a bonnet with feathers, and ribbons, and loops, I like the sort that can laugh and talk, That will do whatever the owner may choose, "One that can dance, and-possibly-flirt; One that can sing without dropping a stitch, Or to do up your collars and things so nice. "What do you think of my machine? But flesh and blood! Hear that, my boy? You needn't keep winking so hard at the wall: |