Each day to the king the reports came in
Of his unsuccessful spies,

And the sad panorama of human woes
Passed daily under his eyes.

And he grew ashamed of his useless life,
And his maladies hatched in gloom;
He opened the windows, and let in the air
Of the free heaven into his room;

And out he went in the world, and toiled
In his own appointed way,

And the people blessed him, the land was glad,
And the king was well and gay.

SIXTEEN AND SIXTY.

Grandpa sits in his oaken chair,
And in flies Bessie with tangled hair,
"I'm going to be married, oh, grandmamma!
I'm going to be married! Ha! ha! ha! ha!"
Grandma smooths out her apron-string:
"Do you know, my dear, 'tis a solemn thing?"
""Tis solemner not to, grandmamma.
I'm going to be married! Ha! ha ha! ha!"
Then grandma looks through her sixty years,
And sums up a woman's hopes and fears;
Six of them livin' and two of them dead;
Grandpa helpless and tied to his bed.

Nowhere to live when the house burned down,
Years of fighting with old Mother Brown;
Stockings to darn and bread to bake,
Dishes to wash and dresses to make.

But then the music of pattering feet,
Grandpa's kisses so fond and sweet,
Song and prattle the life-long day,
Joy and kisses and love alway.

Grandma smooths out her apron-string,
And gazes down at her wedding ring,
And still she smiles as she drops a tear;
"Tis solemner not to. Yes, my dear."

A STREET GAMIN'S STORY OF THE PLAY.

Two small boys were looking at the large black and red posters on the boards in front of a Bowery variety theatre. The larger of the boys wore a man's overcoat, the sleeves of which had been shortened by rolling them up till his red and grimy hands protruded. The big coat was open in front, revealing a considerable expanse of cotton shirt. His hands were thrust in his trousers pockets. The visor of his heavy wool cap had come loose, except at the ends, and it rested on his nose. His smaller companion wore a jacket and trousers that were much too small even for him. His hat was of black felt

and of the shape of a sugar loaf. His eyes were round with wonder at the story his friend in the big overcoat was telling him. It seemed to be a synopsis of the play, scenes in which were pictured on the boards.

"This duffer," said the boy, taking one hand from his pockets and pointing to the picture of a genteel man with a heavy black moustache, "is the vill'n. It begins wid him comin' on the stage, and sayin:

"What, ho! Not here yet?'

"Then an Eyetalian covey wid big whiskers-he's the vill'n's pal-comes on, and the vill'n tells him the girl mus' be did away wid, so he can get the boodle. "How mucha you giv-a," says the Eyetalian.

"Five thousand dollars,' says the vill'n, an' they makes the bargain. The Eyetalian is goin' to make b'lieve that the girl is his'n, git her away f'm her friends, and kill her. While they is makin' the bargain a Dutchman comes out, an' says he:

"Maybe yer don't was tink I haf heard sometings, don't it? I vill safe dot girl!'

"The next scene is in a big, fine house. An ole woman all dressed up swell is tellin' a young prig that the girl is heir to fifty, thousand dollars, an' dey don't know who her fader and mudder was. She was picked

up on the steps when she was a kid. The young feller tells his mudder that he don't care who her folks was, an' that he'll marry her anyway, even if she is blind. The ole woman goes out, and a be-youtiful girl comes in, pawin' the air 'cause she's blind and can't see, an' says she to the young chap:

"The feller don't b'lieve her, an' tells her she's given' him guff. After a lot of coaxin' she owns up that she is, an' he spreads out his fins and hollers:

"Then you do love me, Marie!' and she tumbles.

"Then an ole man wid a white wig comes in-he's the doctor-an' he looks at the girl's eyes an' says that he can cure 'em but it may kill her. He takes out two bottles and says:

"In this is sump'n' that'll put yer into a sleep like death, will yer risk it?'

"Be this me answer,' said the girl, an' she swallers the bottle an' tips over on the lounge.

"Just before the doctor is goin' to fix her eyes, the Eyetalian jumps in an' says:

666

Where is mai poor childa?' an' he won't let the doctor do anythin'. There is a big row an' the Dutchman comes in and says:

"She don't vas his child.'

"But the Eyetalian lugs her off, an' the vill'n-he turns out to be her cousin-gets all the money.

"The next scene is in the street. The Eyetalian an' the be-youtiful girl all dressed in rags comes along, and she says:

"I'm so-o-o tired.'

"How mucha money you gotta?' says the Eyetalian, an' she says she hain't got no money. Then he goes to kill her, an' the Dutchman hops out an' yells:

"You macaroni son of a gun,' an' the Eyetalian lights out.

"The Dutchman he takes the girl into his house, an'

comes out into the street. an' while they is talkin' the Eyetalian sneaks back an' steals the girl away. But the Dutchman's dog follers him and shows the way to the cop an' the Dutchman when they finds out that the girl is gone. They find her in a dive where lots of Eyetalians is playin' whisky poker for the drinks. There's a big row agin, an' the girl is took out an' carried back to her home. In the row the Eyetalian gets all chawed up by the Dutchman's dog, the cop lugs him off, an' he's sent up for ten years.

The girl's feller comes along,

"In the last act the girl's eyes has been fixed, an' she's sittin' on the piazzar. The papers has been found an' the vill'n has hollered, 'I'm 1-host, I'm 1-host!' The girl is sayin' how glad she'll be to see her feller an' look into his eyes, when the Eyetalian, who has cracked the jug, comes cr-e-e-pin' along in striped togs, an' says he to hisself:

"I will now have mia r-r-evenge.'

"The lights is turned down, an' the big fiddle goes zub-zub, zub-zub.

"The Eyetalian creeps up and grabs the be-youtiful young girl an' hollers, ' I will killa you!' an' pulls a big knife out of his breeches pocket. The young girl yells, an' jest as he's goin' to jab her wid the knife, they all rushes in, an' the darkey pulls out a pop an' lets the Eyetalian have it in the ribs, and the Eyetalian tumbles down an' squirms, an' the be-youtiful young girl faints away in her feller's arms, an' down goes the curtain."

THE DEVIL.-ALFRED J. HOUGH.

Men don't believe in a devil now, as their fathers used to do; They've forced the door of the broadest creed to let His

Majesty through.

There isn't a print of his cloven foot or a fiery dart from his bow

To be found on earth or air to-day, for the world has voted so,

But who is it mixing the fatal draught that palsies heart and brain,

And loads the bier of each passing year with ten hundred thousand slain?

Who blights the bloom of the land to day with the fiery breath of hell,

If the devil isn't and never was? Won't somebody rise and tell?

Who dogs the steps of the toiling saint and digs the pit for his feet?

Who sows the tares in the field of time wherever God sows His wheat?

The devil is voted not to be, and of course the thing is true;
But who is doing the kind of work the devil alone should do?

We are told he doesn't go about as a roaring lion now,
But whom shall we hold responsible for the everlasting row
To be heard in church, in home, and state, to earth's re-
motest bound,

If the devil by unanimous vote is nowhere to be found? Won't somebody step to the front forthwith, and make his bow, and show

How the frauds and crimes of a single day spring up? We want to know.

The devil was fairly voted out, and of course the devil's

gone;

But simple people would like to know who carries his bus

iness on.

THE BOY TO THE SCHOOLMASTER.

You've quizzed me often and puzzled me long,
You've asked me to cipher and spell,
You've called me a dunce if I answered wrong.
Or a dolt if I failed to tell

Just when to say lie and when to say lay,
Or what nine-sevenths would make,

Or the longitude of Kamschatka Bay,
Or the I-forget-what's-its name lake;

So I think it's about my turn, I do,
To ask a question or so of you.

The schoolmaster grim, he opened his eyes,
But said not a word for sheer surprise.

Can you tell what "phen-dubs" means? I can.
Can you say all off by heart