forty years ago amid tremendous applause, be verified in its fullest and final sense, when he said: "Standing hand to hand and clasping hands, we should remain united as we have been for sixty years, citizens of the same coamry, members of the same government, united, all united now and united forever."

W. H. GRADY.

THE TEAR OF REPENTANCE.

[The Peris are mythologically represented as descendants of fallen angels, excluded from Paradise until, through some holy deed, their penance is accom plished. In this instance a Peri is described as having twice appeared at the Gate of Heaven, bearing the first time a drop of blood from the heart of an expiring warrior; the second time a farewell sigh from the lips of a dying lover. In each case she is refused admission-the gift not being deemed sufficiently worthy. The angel bids her seek again, and this time she bears to Heaven a tear of repentance from the eye of a hardened sinner.]

ONE morn a Peri at the gate
Of Eden stood, disconsolate;
And as she listened to the springs
Of life within, like music flowing,
And caught the light upon her wings
Through the half-open portal glowing,
She wept to think her recreant race
Should e'er have lost that glorious place!

"How happy," exclaimed this child of air,
"Are the holy spirits who wander there,
'Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall!
Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea,
One blossom of Heaven outblooms them all!"

The glorious angel who was keeping
The gates of light beheld her weeping;
And, as he nearer drew and listened,
A tear within his eyelid glistened.-
"Nympha fair but erring line,"
Gentle he said, "one hope is thine.

"Tis written in the book of fate,
The Peri yet may be forgiven
Who brings to this eternal gate
The gift that is most dear to Heaven.
Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin;
"Tis sweet to let the pardoned in !"

Rapidly as comets run

To the embraces of the sun

Down the blue vault the Peri flies,
And, lighted earthward at a glance
That just then broke from morning's eyes,
Hung hovering o'er our world's expanse.

Over the vale of Baalbec winging,
The Peri sees a child at play,
Among the rosy wild-flowers singing,
As rosy and as wild as they,
Chasing with eager hands and eyes
The beautiful blue damsel-flies

That fluttered round the jasmine stems
Like winged flowers or flying gems;
And near the boy, who, tired with play,
Now nestling 'mid the roses lay,
She saw a wearied man dismount

From his hot steed, and on the brink Of a small temple's rustic fount Impatient fling him down to drink.

Then swift his haggard brow he turned
To the fair child, who fearless sat-
Though never yet hath day-beam burned
Upon a brow more fierce than that-
Sullenly fierce-a mixture dire,
Like thunder-clouds of gloom and fire,
In which the Peri's eye could read
Dark tales of many a ruthless deed.

Yet tranquil now that man of crime (As if the balmy evening time

Softened his spirit) looked and lay,
Watching the rosy infant's play;
Though still, whene'er his eye by chance
Fell on the boy's, its lurid glance
Met that unclouded, joyous gaze
As torches that have burnt all night
Encounter morning's glorious rays.

But hark! the vesper call to prayer,
As slow the orb of daylight sets,
Is rising sweetly on the air

From Syria's thousand minarets!

The boy has started from the bed
Of flowers, where he had laid his head,
And down upon the fragrant sod

Kneels, with his forehead to the south, Lisping th' eternal name of God

From purity's own cherub mouth;
And looking, while his hands and eyes
Are lifted to the glowing skies,
Like a stray babe of Paradise
Just lighted on that flow'ry plain,
And seeking for its home again!

And how felt he, the wretched man
Reclining there-while memory ran
O'er many a year of guilt and strife
That marked the dark flood of his life,
Nor found one sunny resting-place,
Nor brought him back one branch of gracef
"There was a time," he said, in mild
Heart-humbled tones, "thou blessed child,
When young, and haply pure as thou,
I looked and prayed like thee; but now
He hung his head; each nobler aim

And hope and feeling which had slept From boyhood's hour, that instant came Fresh o'er him, and he wept-he wept!

And now! behold him kneeling there
By the child's side in humble prayer,
While the same sunbeam shines upon
The guilty and the guiltless one,

And hymns of joy proclaim through Heaven
The triumph of a soul forgiven!

"Twas when the golden orb had set,
While on their knees they lingered yet,
There fell a light more lovely far
Then ever came from sun or star
Upon the tear that, warm and meek,
Dewed that repentant sinner's cheek;
To mortal eye this light might seem
A northern flash or meteor beam,
But well th' enraptured Peri knew
'Twas a bright smile the angel threw
From Heaven's gate, to hail that tear-
Her harbinger of glory near!

"Joy! joy!" she cried, " my task is done-
The gates are passed, and Heaven is won!"

THOMAS MOORE

HOW IT STRUCK JIM.

[A musical criticism rendered into railroad men's lingo.]

"I WAS loafing around the street last night," said Jim Nelson, one of the oldest locomotive engineers running into New Orleans, "and, as I had nothing to do, I dropped into a concert, and heard a slick looking French man play a piano in a way that made me feel all over in spots. As soon as he sat down on the stool, I knew by the way he handled himself that he understood the machine he was running. He tapped the keys way upon one end, just as if they were gauges and he wanted to see if he had water enough. Then he looked up as if he wanted to know how much steam he was carrying, and

the next moment he pulled open the throttle and sailed out on the main line as if he was an hour late.

"You could hear her thunder over culverts and bridges and getting faster and faster until the fellow rocked about in his seat like a cradle. Somehow, I thought it was old '39' pulling a passenger train and getting out of the way of a special. The fellow worked the keys on the middle division like lightning, and then he flew along the north end of the line until the drivers went around like a buzz saw, and I got excited. About the time I was fixing to tell him to cut her off a little, he kicked the dampers under the machine wide open, pulled the throttle away back into the tender, andJerusalem jumpers! how he did run! I couldn't stand it any longer, and yelled to him that she was 'pounding' on the left side, and if he wasn't careful he'd drop his ash-pan.

"But he didn't hear. No one heard me. Everything was flying and whizzing, telegraph poles along the side of the track looked like a row of corn stalks, the trees appeared to be a mud bank, and all the time the exhaust of the old machine sounded like the hum of a bumblebee. I tried to yell out, but my tongue wouldn't move. He went around curves like a bullet, slipped an eccentric, blew out his soft plug, went down grades 50 feet to the mile and not a confounded brake set. She went by the meeting point at a mile and a half a minute and calling for more steam. My hair stood up like a cat's tail, because I knew the game was up.

"Sure enough, dead ahead of us was the head-light of the 'special.' In a daze I heard the crash as they struck and I saw cars shivered into atoms, people mashed and mangled and bleeding and gasping for water. I heard another crash as the French professor struck the keys away down on the lower end of the Southern division, and then I came to my senses. There he was at a dead stand still, with the door of the fire box of the machine open, wiping the perspiration off his face and bowing to the people before him. If I live to be a thousand years old I'll never forget the ride that Frenchman gave me on a piano."