"You are worth more to me than the gold of Slugmiski,

Brakemupski, or Sumarakoff! Katinka Pojakaroulski, it's risky, But I'm going to carry you off!"

And this is the way young Sawmilegoff
Put an end to all further discussion,

"Twas a simpler proceeding to carry her off

Than go on courting in Russian.

CHICAGO TRIBUNE.

LA FAYETTE.

[A fine oration. Employ full, clear tones.]

WHILE we bring our offerings to the mighty of our own land, shall we not remember the chivalrous spirits of other shores, who shared with them the hour of weakness and woe? Pile to the clouds the majestic column of glory; let the lips of those who can speak well hallow each spot where the bones of your bold repose; but forget not those who with your bold went out to battle.

Among these men of noble daring, there was ONE, & young and gallant stranger, who left the blushing vinehills of his delightful France. The people whom he came to succor were not his people; he knew them only in the melancholy story of their wrongs. He was no mercenary adventurer, striving for the spoil of the vanquished: the palace acknowledged him for its lord, and the valley yielded him its increase. He was no nameless man, staking life for reputation; he ranked among nobles, and looked unawed upon kings.

He was no friendless outcast, seeking for a grave to hide a broken heart; he was girdled by the companions of his childhood; his kinsmen were about him; his wife was before him. Yet from all these loved ones he turned away. Like a lofty tree that shakes down its green glories to battle with the winter's storm, he flung aside

the trappings of place and pride to crusade for Freedom, in Freedom's holy land. He came; but not in the day of successful rebellion; not when the new-risen sun of independence had burst the cloud of time and careered to its place in the heavens.

He came when darkness curtained the hills, and the tempest was abroad in its anger; when the plough stood still in the field of promise, and the briers cumbered the garden of beauty; when fathers were dying, and mothers were weeping over them; when the maiden was wiping the death damp from the brow of her lover. He came when the brave began to fear the power of man, and the pious to doubt the favor of God. It was then that this ONE joined the ranks of a revolted people.

Freedom's little phalanx bade him a grateful welcome. With them he courted the battle's rage; with theirs, his arm was lifted; with theirs, his blood was shed. Long and doubtful was the conflict. At length, kind Heaven smiled on the good cause, and the beaten invaders fled. The profane were driven from the temple of Liberty, and at her pure shrine the pilgrim warrior, with his adored commander, knelt and worshiped. Leaving there his offering, the incense of an uncorrupted spirit, he at length rose, and, crowned with benedictions, turned his happy feet toward his long deserted home.

After nearly fifty years, that ONE has come again. Can mortal tougue tell, can mortal heart feel the sublimity of that coming? Exulting millions rejoice in it; and their long, long transporting shout, like the mingling of many winds, rolls on, undying, to freedom's farthest mountains. A congregated nation comes around him. Old men bless him, and children reverence him. The lovely come out to look upon him; the learned deck their halls to greet him; the rulers of the land rise up to do him homage.

How his full heart labors! He views the rusting trophies of departed days; he treads the high places where his brethren moulder; he bends before the tomb of his FATHER; his words are tears, the speech of sad remem

1. Washington.

brance. But he looks round upon a ransomed land and a joyous race; he beholds the blessings, those trophies secured, for which those brethren died, for which that FATHER lived; and again his words are tears, the elo quence of gratitude and joy.

Spread forth creation like a map; bid earth's dead multitude revive; and of all the pageant splendors that ever glittered to the sun, when looked his burning eye on a sight like this? Of all the myriads that have come and gone, what cherished minion ever ruled an hour like this? Many have struck the redeeming blow for their own freedom; but who, like this man, has bared his bosom in the cause of strangers? Others have lived in the love of their own people; but who, like this man, has drank his sweetest cup of welcome with another? Matchless Chief! of glory's immortal tablets there is one for him, for him alone! Oblivion shall never shroud its splendor; the everlasting flame of liberty shall guard it, that the generations of men may repeat the name re oorded there, the beloved name of LA FAYETTE. CHARLES SPRAGUE.

GARFIELD'S RIDE.

FIRE and smoke, and roar of cannon
Filled the air that fearful day;
'Twas the Chickamauga battle,
Fierce and bloody was the fray.
Onward pressed the rebel soldiers,
But our noble boys in blue
Held their ground with bravest valor
Doing all that men could do.

See, from out the dusky forest
Gallops now a man and steed!
Now he pauses and a message
Gives the general to read.

Ah, it was a fatal order!

But our noble boys in blue

Never questioned, for the soldier's duty Is " to die or do!"

So they left the post of battle,
And the rebel line of gray
Poured into our ranks, now leaving
Dead and dying by the way.
There was but one hope; if Thomas
Knew the danger they were in,
Yet he might amend the error
And the Union army win.

Who would undertake the mission?
He must fearless be, and bold,
For beside the lonely pathway
Danger lurked, unknown, untold.
Then said Garfield, "I will take it,
Dangerous the path, 'tis true,
But if one must die, 'tis better

I should be that one than you."

There the two clasped hands and parted,
Huskily they said "farewell."
What they felt in those few moments
Ere the parting none can tell.
Then commenced that ride, world famous,
He with three men bold and brave
Rode for life, and two poor fellows
Found, on that wild ride, their grave.

On they rode. A shower of bullets
Fell around the gallant four,
Captain Gano's horse fell wounded,
Two men fell to rise no more.
Now on one depends the crisis,
On he rides with fearful speed;
Poet's song though sweet could never
Justice do that daring deed.

It is over now, and Garfield
Stands his general beside;
As he spoke the horse he'd ridden
Fell, and by his master died.
But the tide has turned, the battle
By that ride has won the day;
Then to Garfield be the glory
Of the Chickamauga fray.

LELIA SHERWOOD.

THE TWO BROTHERS.

From the Talmud.

IN Palestine long years ago-
So runs the legend old-
Where Kedron's sparkling waters flow
Across their sands of gold,

And Mt. Moriah lifts his head
Above the sunny plain,

Two brothers owned as one-'tis said,

A field of golden grain.

And when the autumn days had come
And all the shocks and sheaves
Stood waiting for the "harvest home,"
Among the withering leaves,
The elder brother said one night,
"I'm stronger far than Saul,
My younger brother, 'tis but right
That I should give him all

These sheaves that grow upon the plain
We own together, so

I'll put with his my stacks of grain,

And he will never know."

Scarce had he left the sheaves of wheat

When quietly there came