For the thought of her little Peter But what does she see so strange and black Her neighbors are bearing between them Her child is coming home, but not "He is dead!" she cries; "my darling! And comes and looks the way she looks Till a glad shout from the bearers So, there in the morning sunshine And every head was bared and bent 'Tis many a year since then; but still, They have many a valiant hero And his deed shall be sung by the cradle, So long as the dikes of Holland Divide the land from the sea. THE SINGER'S ALMS. In Lyons, in the mart of that French town, The thoroughfare, caught the child's glance and smiled To see behind its eyes a noble soul; The asked-for penny, then aside he stood, The sky was blue above, and all the lane Of commerce where the singer stood was filled, And many paused, and, listening, paused again To hear the voice that through and through them thrilled; I think the guardian angel helped along That cry for pity woven in a song. The singer stood between the beggars there Held toward heaven, land of the heart's desire, The hat of its stamped brood was emptied soon And noon in her glad heart drove forth her tears. But when at night he came upon the stage, Cheer after cheer went up from that wild throng, Oh! cramped and narrow is the man who lives Makes smooth and green, and strews with flowers, his way. THE WATER-MILL.-D. C. MCCALLUM. Oh! listen to the water-mill, through all the live-long day, As the clicking of the wheels wears hour by hour away; How languidly the autumn wind doth stir the withered leaves, As on the field the reapers sing, while binding up the sheaves! A solemn proverb strikes my mind, and as a spell is cast, The mill will never grind again with water that is past.” 46 The summer winds revive no more leaves strewn o'er earth and main, The sickle never more will reap the yellow garnered grain; The rippling stream flows ever on, aye tranquil, deep and still, But never glideth back again to busy water-mill. The solemn proverb speaks to all,with meaning deep and vast, "The mill will never grind again with water that is past." Oh! clasp the proverb to thy soul, dear loving heart and true, For golden years are fleeting by, and youth is passing too; Ah! learn to make the most of life, nor lose one happy day, For time will ne'er return sweet joys neglected, thrown away; Nor leave one tender word unsaid, thy kindness sow broadcast "The mill will never grind again with water that is past." Oh! the wasted hours of life, that have swiftly drifted by, Alas! the good we might have done, all gone without a sigh; Love that we might once have saved by a single kindly word, Thoughts conceived but ne'er expressed, perishing unpenned, unheard. Oh! take the lesson to thy soul, forever clasp it fast, "The mill will never grind again with water that is past." Work on while yet the sun doth shine, thou man of strength and will, The streamlet ne'er doth useless glide by clicking watermill; Nor wait until to-morrow's light beams brightly on thy way, For all that thou canst call thine own, lies in the phrase "to-day:" Possessions, power, and blooming health, must all be lost at last "The mill will never grind again with water that is past." Oh! love thy God and fellow man, thyself consider last, For come it will when thou must scan dark errors of the past; Soon will this fight of life be o'er, and earth recede from view, And heaven in all its glory shine where all is pure and true. Ah! then thou❜lt see more clearly still the proverb deep and vast, "The mill will never grind again with water that is past." TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP.-J. G. HOLLAND. Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching; how many of them? Sixty thousand! Sixty full regiments, every man of which will, before twelve months shall have completed their course, lie down in the grave of a drunkard! Every year during the past decade has witnessed the same sacrifice; and sixty regiments stand behind this army ready to take its place. It is to be recruited from our children and our children's children. Tramp, tramp, tramp-the sounds come to us in the echoes of the footsteps of the army just expired; tramp, tramp, tramp-the earth shakes with the tread of the host now passing; tramp, tramp, tramp-comes to us from the camp of the recruits. A great tide of life flows resistlessly to its death. What in God's name are they fighting for? The privilege of pleasing an appetite, of conforming to a social usage, of filling sixty thousand homes with shame and sorrow, of loading the public with the burden of pauperism, of crowding our prison-houses with felons, of detracting from the productive industries of the country, of ruining fortunes and breaking hopes, of breeding disease and wretchedness, of destroying both body and soul in hell before their time. The prosperity of the liquor interest, covering every department of it, depends entirely on the maintenance of this army. It cannot live without it. It never did live without it. So long as the liquor interest maintains its present prosperous condition, it will cost America the sacrifice of sixty thousand men every year. The effect is inseparable from the cause. The cost to the country of the liquor traffic is a sum so stupendous that any figures which we should dare to give would convict us of trifling. The amount of life absolutely destroyed, the amount of industry sacrificed, the amount of bread transformed into poison, the shame, the unavailing sorrow, the crime, the poverty, the pauperism, the brutality, the wild waste of vital and financial resources, make an aggregate so vast-so incalculably vast,—that the only wonder is that the American people do not rise as one man and declare that this great curse shall exist no longer. A hue-and-cry is raised about woman-suffrage, as if any wrong which may be involved in woman's lack of the suffrage could be compared to the wrongs attached to the liquor interest. Does any sane woman doubt that women are suffering a thousand times more from rum than from any political disability? The truth is that there is no question before the American people to-day that begins to match in importance the temperance question. The question of American slavery was never anything but a baby by the side of this; and we prophesy that within ten years, if not within five, the whole country will be awake to it, and divided upon it. The organizations of the liquor interest, the vast funds at its command, the universal feeling among those whose business is pitted against the national prosperity and the public morals-these are enough to show that, upon one side of this matter, at least, the present condition of things and the social and political questions that lie in the immediate future are apprehended. The liquor interest knows there is to be a great struggle, and is preparing to meet it. People both in this country and in Great Britain are beginning to see the enormity of this business-are beginning to realize that Christian civilization is actually poisoned at its fountain, and that there can be no purification of it until the source of the poison is dried up. Temperance laws are being passed by the various Legislatures, which they must sustain, or go over, soul and body, to the liquor interest and influence. Steps are being taken on behalf of the public health, morals, and prosperity, which they must approve by voice and act, or they must consent to be left behind and left out. There can be no concession and no compromise on the part of temperance men, and no quarter to the foe. The great curse of our country and our race must be destroyed. |