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An' Benjamin, he cum hum at last, but it made my old

eyes ache To see him lay with thet patient look, when it seemed

thet his heart would break With his pain an' wounds; but he lingered on till the

flowers died away, An' then we laid him down to rest, in the calm of the

autumn day.

Will I sell the old farm, stranger, the house where my

boys were born? Jes' look down thro' the orchard, Squar, beyond that

field ocornKen ye see them four white marble stuns gleam out thro'

the orchard glade ? Wall, all thet is left of our boys on arth rests under them

old trees' shade.

But there cums John with the cows, ye see, an' it's 'bout

my milkin’-time; If ye happen along this way agin, jes' stop in at eny

time. Oh! ye axed if I'd eny notion the old farm would ever

be sold: Wall! may be, Squar, but I'll tell ye plain, 't will be when the old man's cold.

A. ALPHONSE DAYTON.

MY EARLY HOME.

TOVE, Peace, and Repose ! the tenderest trio
1 Of musical words ever blended in one .
That one word is Home='mid the hills of Ohio-

Dear home of my childhood in years that are gone.

There, father and mother, two sisters, one brother,

With hopes, like their hearts, united, abide,
Their treasures in this world are few; in another,

A heritage holy and glory beside.
In fancy I wander, this sweet summer morning,

Away to the wheat-field, just over the hill;
'Tis harvest-time now, and the reapers are coming

To gather the waiting grain, golden and still.

Many harvests have passed, many summers have ended.

Since here I oft toiled, with glad reapers, before, And felt the great bounty of Heaven extended,

Giving joy to the worker and bread to the poor.

Long ago, I remember, when thirsty and tiring,

The harvesters came to the old maple shade, How they quaffed the pure water, so cool and inspiring,

That gushed from the fountain that Nature had made.

And I think of the orchard, and the apples that yellowed,

Half hidden by leaves in the "big early tree;" Ah, the apples, how luscious, when ripened and mellowed,

Then dropped in the clover for sisters and me! Old home of my youth, so humble, so cherished,

Thy hallowed memory cheers me to-day; When all other thoughts of the past shall have perished,

Remembrance of thee shall illumine my way. Sweet home in Ohio, now farewell forever!

I've wandered afar from thy dear cottage door: l'll visit thee, love thee; but never, oh, never, Will thy charms, or my childhood, return any more.

ALEXANDER CLARK.

WILLIAM TELL.
“ DLACE there the boy,” the tyrant said;
I “Fix me the apple on his head.

Ha! rebel, now!
There's a fair mark for your shaft:
To yonder shining apple waft
An arrow.” And the tyrant laughed.

With quivering brow
Bold Tell looked there; his cheek turned pale,
His proud lips throbbed as if would fail

Their quivering breath. “Ha! doth he blanch ?” fierce Gesler cried, “I've conquered, slave, thy soul of pride.” No voice to that stern taunt replied

All mute as death. And what the meed ?” at length Tell asked. “Bold fool, when slaves like thee are tasked,

It is my will.
But that thine eye may keener be,
And nerved to such nice archery,
If thou cleav'st yon, thou goest free.

What! pause you still?
Give him a bow and arrow there
One shaft—but one.” Gleams of despair
Rush for a moment o'er the Switzer's face!
Then passed away each stormy trace,
And high resolve came in their place.

Unmoved, yet flushed,
“I take thy terms,” he muttered low,
Grasped eagerly the proffered bow-

The quiver searched, Sought out an arrow keen and long, Fit for a sinewy arm, and strong,

And placed it on the sounding thong

The tough yew arched.
He drew the bow, whilst all around
That thronging crowd there was no sound,

No step, no word, no breath.
All gazed with an unerring eye,
To see the fearful arrow fly;
The light wind died into a sigh,

And scarcely stirred.
Afar the boy stood, firm and mute;
He saw the strong bow curved to shoot,

But never moved.
He knew the daring coolness of that hand,
He knew it was a father scanned

The boy he loved. The Switzer gazed—the arrow hung, “My only boy!” sobbed on his tongue;

He could not shoot.. “Ha!" cried the tyrant,“ doth he quail ? Mark how his haughty brow grows pale!" But a deep voice rung on the gale

“Shoot, in God's name !" Again the drooping shaft he took, And turned to Heaven one burning look,

Of all doubts reft.
“Be firm, my boy!" was all he said.
The apple's left the stripling's head ;

Ha! ha! 'tis cleft!
And so it was, and Tell was free.
Quick the brave boy was at his knee,

With rosy cheek.
His loving arms his boy embrace;
But again that tyrant cried in haste,
“ An arrow in thy belt is placed ;

What means it? Speak!”
The Switzer raised his clenched hand high,
Whilst lightning flashed across his eye

Incessantly.
“To smite thee, tyrant, to the heart,
Had Heaven willed it that my dart

Had touched my boy.”
“ Rebellion! treason! chain the slave!"
A hundred swords around him wave,
Whilst hate to Gesler's features gave

Infuriate joy.
But that one arrow found its goal,
Hid with revenge in Gesler's soul;

And Lucerne's lake
Heard his dastard soul outmoan
When Freedom's call abroad was blown,
And Switzerland, a giant grown,

Her fetters brake.
From hill to hill the mandate flew,
From lake to lake the tempest grew,

With wakening swell,
Till proud oppression crouched for shame,
And Austria's haughtiness grew tame;
And Freedom's watchword was the name

Of William Tell.

PAX VOBISCUM!

“DAX VOBISCUM!” Peace be with ye! Hark

1 the Independence bells ! On the breeze of summer morning how their joyous

clamor swells !

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