THE UNNOTICED BOUND.

When, passing southward, I may cross the line
Between the Arctic and Atlantic oceans,
I may not tell-by any test of mine,

By any startling signs, or strange commotions
Across my track.

But if the days grow sweeter, one by one,

And e'en the icebergs melt their hardened faces; And sailors linger basking in the sun,

I know I must have made the change of places
Some distance back!

When, answering timidly the Master's call,
I passed the bourne of life in coming to Him;
When in my love for Him I gave up all-

The very moment when I thought I knew Him,
I cannot tell!

But as increasingly I feel His love

As this cold heart is melted to o'erflowing-
As now so dear the light comes from above,

I wonder at the change-and move on, knowing
That all is well.

LOSSES.-FRANCES BROWNE.*

Upon the white sea-sand
There sat a pilgrim band,

Telling the losses that their lives had known;
While evening waned away

From breezy cliff and bay,

And the strong tides went out with weary moan.

One spake with quivering lip,
Of a fair freighted ship,

With all his household to the deep gone down;
But one had wilder woe,-

For a fair face, long ago

Lost in the darker depths of a great town.

There were who mourned their youth
With a most loving ruth,

For its brave hopes and memories ever green;
And one upon the west

Turned an eye that would not rest,
For far-off hills whereon its joys had been.

*The blind poetess of Donegal.

Some talked of vanished gold;
Some of proud honors told;

Some spake of friends that were their trust no more;
And one of a green grave
Beside a foreign wave,

That made him sit so lonely on the shore.

But, when their tales were done,
There spake among them one,

A stranger, seeming from all sorrow free:
"Sad losses have ye met;

But mine is heavier yet;

For a believing heart hath gone from me "
"Alas!" these pilgrims said,
"For the living and the dead,
For fortune's cruelty, for love's sure cross,
For the wrecks of land and sea,-
But, however it came to thee,
Thine, stranger, is life's last and heaviest loss."

THE "COURSE OF LOVE" TOO "SMOOTH."

She came tripping from the church-door, her face flushed by emotions awakened by the just uttered discourse, and eyes bright with loving expectation. He shivered on the curb-stone, where for an hour he had waited impatiently, with a burning heart fairly palpitating in his throat, and frozen fingers in his pockets. They linked arms and started for the residence of her parents. After a few moments' hesitating silence he said: "Jane, we have known each other long. You must know just how I feel. You must have seen that clear down at the bottom-O Moses!"

He had slipped down on the ice with so much force that his spine was driven up into his hat, and his hat was tipped over his nose, but she was a tender-hearted girl. She did not laugh, but she carefully helped him to his feet, and said: "You were saying, John, when you slipped, that the foundation-Oh, goodness!"

She slipped herself that time, and saw little stars come down to dance before her eyes, but he pulled her up in haste and went on

"Yes; just as I said, clean down at the bottom of my heart

is a fervent love, on which I build my hopes. That love has helped me stand and face-Thunder!"

He was down again, but scrambled up before she could stoop to help him, and she said breathlessly:

"Yes, yes, John. You remember you just said, a love which helped you stand and face thunder. And that you founded your hopes on-This pesky ice!"

There she sat. John grasped the loose part of her sacque, between the shoulders, with one hand, and raised her to her feet, as one would lift a kitten from a pail of water by the back of the neck. Then he said, with increased earnestness:

"Of course, darling; and I have longed for an opportunity to tell my love, and to hear those sweet lips whisper— Whoop!"

Somehow John's feet had slipped from under him, and he had come down like a capital V with his head and feet pointing skyward. She twined her taper fingers in his curling locks and raised him to the stature of a man, set his hat firmly over his eyes with both hands, and cried, in breathless haste:

"I understand; and let me assure you, John, that if it is in my power to lighten your cafes and make lighter your journey through life to-Jerusalem ?"

John stood alone, and said with breathless vehemence: “Oh, my precious! and thus shall it be my lifelong pleasure to lift you from the rude assaults of earth and surround you with the loving atmosphere of―Texas!"

And there they both sat together. They had nearly reached the gate, and, hand in hand, and with hearts overflowing with the bliss of young love's first confession, they crept along on their knees up to the front steps, and were soon forgetful of their bumps on the softest cushion of the parlor sofa.

THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.-BYRON.

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen;
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still.

And there lay the steed with his nostrils all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride:
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!

FORTY TO TWENTY.

A DRAWING-ROOM DRAMA.

Tears in your eyes! and why? Because you find
That he you love is mortal after all?

Dear, silly coz, what else did you expect?

You met the man, and though you said no word,
Your eyes were eloquent, and warmly spoke
The electric language of the universe.

You thought him brilliant-ay, he's truly so;
Brilliant enough to know, ere many days,
What spell the magic of his genius cast
Upon a bright but untrained country-girl.
Your fresh, frank ways, your eager earnestness,
Were revelations to the sated lion.

'Tis writ in books, 'tis said by wagging tongues,
That women are the weaker vessels, coz.
Our love of approbation is so great,
We'd sell our birthright for a mess of it.
When'er potential "he" pours in our ears
The honey kept on tap for our poor sex,
We melt as wax before the burning sun;
And being born thus weak, fulfilling fate.

It makes a deal of difference in this world
Whether you're born a man or woman, coz.
You've been taught from your birth that it takes two
To make a bargain. When it comes to sex,
But one's required--

It takes but one, and woman is that one!
So has it been since chaos settled down
Into the muddy mush that we call earth.
Man ever is an Adam, woman Eve:

He asks to taste the apple in her hand,
And when he's eaten it and is arraigned,
Exclaims, "Behold, the woman gave it me!"
Not manly, think you, to thus shrink results?
You call him coward for betraying Eve?
You say such reasoning would never hold
In any book of logic? True enough:

But when you've longer lived you'll surely learn,
Though logic's fact, fact is not logic, coz!

And you'll be in your grave, as well as I,
Before society revolves around

An axis of right reason.

Weeping still?

You fancy, coz, yours is the only heart

That has been trifled with? You long for death?
Now look at me: I'm envied by the world

Because I'm handsome, rich, endowed with wit,
And tact enough to know just what to say
And when to say it. My salon is thronged
With genius and with beauty, coz, because
I've sense enough to listen to the men,
And art enough to advertise the charms
Of my own sex, whatever be their kind.
Because of this, some call me politic:
But all admit that I am popular-

And you, 'mong others, wish to wear my shoes.
Why, silly coz, I'd gladly change with you,
To lose the memory of earlier days.

At your age I loved madly-loved with all
The passion of a soul that loves but once.
I thought my love returned: his vows, at least,
Were warm enough to melt a colder heart
Than nature gave to me. The man was born
Below my sphere; but genius knows no rank,
And I placed him above, beyond the herd
Of titled nobodies with addled brain.

I lived for this one man-for him alone;
We plighted troth; my parents threatened then
To cast me off, to disinherit me!

"Defy our will, and you may beg for bread
Ere we will give heed to your misery!"