There's little pleasure in the house, Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech, His very foot has music in't As he comes up the stair. And will I see his face again? And will I hear him speak? For there's nae luck about the house, There's nae luck at a', There's little pleasure in the house, When our gudeman's awa', Since Colin's weel, I'm weel content; I'm blest aboon the lave. And will I hear him speak? For there's nae luck about the house, There's little pleasure in the house, JEAN ADAMS. "I don't think I've unfaithful been to you. But for the three years past I'll tell you what I've done; then say if I've been true or not. weather! He gave me look!-the first of these two rings When we were lost in Cliefden woods to gether. Ah, what happy times we spent, we two! I don't count that unfaithfulness to you. Beautiful children, in robes so fair, Oh, what shall I do when the night comes down In its terrible blackness all over the town? Shall I lay me down 'neath the angry sky, On the cold hard pavement alone to die, When the beautiful children their prayers have said, And mammas have tucked them up snugly in bed? No dear mother ever upon me smiled : No father, no mother, no sister, not one And tells me of such unbounded love, I am sure I shall then be somebody's child. THE PHILA H. CASE. SOMEBODY'S MOTHER. Her aged hand on his strong young arm "Somebody's mother" bowed low her head prayer HE woman was old and ragged and In her home that night, and the And bent with the chill of a winter's day; said she Was, "God be kind to that noble boy, heard. THE FELON. prayer was ANON. OH, mark his wan and hollow cheeks, And mark his eyeball glare, And mark his teeth in anguish clenched- Know, three days since, his penance o'er, And since three days no food has passed His lips so parched and pale. "Where shall I turn ?" the wretch exclaims; To earn my honest bread? Vastness and age and memories of eld, Here, where a hero fell, a column falls; Waved to the wind, now wave the reed and thistle; Here, where on golden throne the monarch lolled, Glides spectre-like unto his marble home, |