But the graveyard lies between, Mary,
And my step might break your rest―
For I've laid you, darling, down to sleep,
With your baby on your breast.

I'm very lonely now, Mary,

For the poor make no new friends;
But, O! they love the better still
The few our Father sends!
And you were all I had, Mary-
My blessing and my pride:
There's nothing left to care for now,
Since my poor Mary died.

Yours was the good, brave heart, Mary,
That still kept hoping on,

When the trust in God had left my soul,
And my arm's young strength was gone;
There was comfort ever on your lip,

And the kind look on your brow-
I bless you, Mary, for that same,
Though you cannot hear me now.

I thank you for the patient smile
When your heart was fit to break-
When the hunger pain was gnawing there,
And you hid it for my sake;

I bless you for the pleasant word,

When your heart was sad and soreO! I'm thankful you are gone, Mary, Where grief can't reach you more!

I'm bidding you a long farewell,
My Mary-kind and true!
But I'll not forget you darling,

In the land I'm going to;

They say there's bread and work for all,

And the sun shines always there—

But I'll not forget old Ireland,

Were it fifty times as fair'

And often in those grand old woods
I'll sit, and shut my eyes,

And my heart will travel back again
To the place where Mary lies;

And I'll think I see the little stile

Where we sat side by side,

And the springing corn, and the bright May morn When first you were my bride.

ABSALOM.-By N. P. Willis.

THE waters slept. Night's silvery vail hung low
On Jordan's bosom, and the eddies curled
Their glassy rings beneath it, like the still,
Unbroken beating of the sleeper's pulse.

The reeds bent down the stream: the willow leaves
With a soft cheek upon the lulling tide,
Forgot the lifting winds: and the long stems
Whose flowers the water, like a gentle nurse
Bears on its bosom, quietly gave way,
And leaned, in graceful attitudes, to rest.
How strikingly the course of nature tells
By its light heed of human suffering,
That it was fashioned for a happier world.
King David's limbs were weary. He had fled
From far Jerusalem: and now he stood
With his faint people, for a little space,
Upon the shore of Jordan. The light wind
Of morn was stirring, and he bared his brow,
To its refreshing breath: for he had worn
The mourner's covering, and had not felt
That he could see his people until now.
They gathered round him on the fresh green bank
And spoke their kindly words: and as the sun
Rose
up in heaven, he knelt among them there,
And bowed his head upon his hands to pray.
Oh when the heart is full,-when bitter thoughts
Come crowding thickly up for utterance,
And the poor common words of courtesy,
Are such a very mockery-how much
The bursting heart may pour itself in prayer.
He prayed for Israel: and his voice went up
Strongly and fervently. He prayed for those,
Whose love had been his shield: and his deep tones
Grew tremulous. But Oh! for Absalom-

For his estranged misguided Absalom!

The proud bright being who had burst away

In all his princely beauty, to defy,

The heart that cherished him-for him he poured
Strong supplication, and forgave him there,
Before his God, for his deep sinfulness.

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*

*

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*

The pall was settled. He who slept beneath,
Was straightened for the grave: and as the folds
Sunk to the still proportions, they betrayed
The matchless symmetry of Absaloni.
His hair was yet unshorn, and silken curls
Were floating round the tassels as.they swayed
To the admitted air.

His helm was at his feet: his banner soiled

With trailing through Jerusalem, was laid
Reversed beside him: and the jewelled hilt
Whose diamonds lit the passage of his blade,
Rested like mockery on his covered brow.
The soldiers of the king trod to and fro,
Clad in the garb of battle, and their chief
The mighty Joab stood beside the bier,
And gazed upon the dark pall silently,
As if he feared the slumberer might stir.
A slow step startled him. He grasped his blade
As if a trumpet rang: but the bent form
Of David entered, and he gave command
In a low tone to his fellow followers,

And left him with his ead. The King stood still
Till the last echo died then throwing off
The sackcloth from his brow, and laying back
The pall from the still features of his child,
He bowed his head upon him, and broke forth
In the resistless eloquence of woe:

"Alas my noble boy! that thou should'st die,
Thou who wert made so beautifully fair!
That death should settle on thy glorious eye,
And leave his stillness in this clustering hair-
How could he mark thee for the silent tomb
My proud boy Absalom!

Cold is thy brow my son! and I am chill

As to my bosom I have tried to press thee

How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill,

Like a rich harp string, yearning to caress theeAnd hear thy sweet, my father,' from these dumb And cold lips, Absalom!

The grave hath won thee. I shall hear the voice
Of music, and the voices of the young:

And life will pass me in the mantling blush,
And the dark tresses to the soft winds fling,
But thou no more with thy sweet voice shall come
To meet me Absalom!

And oh! when I am stricken, and my heart

Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken,

How will its love for thee, as I depart,

Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token! It were so sweet amid death's gathering gloom To see thee, Absalom!

'And now farewell! 'tis hard to give thee up,

With death so like a gentle slumber o'er thee; And thy dark sin-oh! I could drink the cup If from this woe its bitterness had won thee, May God have called thee like a wanderer home, My erring Absalom!"

He covered up his face, and bowed himself
A moment o'er his child: then giving him
A look of melting tenderness, he clasped
His hands convulsively, as if in prayer:
And, as a strength were given him of God,
He rose up calmly and composed the pall
Fairly and quietly, and left him there
As if his rest had been a breathing sleep!

A RACY STUMP SPEECH.

FRIENDS and fellow-citizens, of this conflictuous community:-I'se riz to give you warnin', and make a political speech, and tell you what I'se gone to talk about and allude to-"now, I'd like to have you pay particular attention;" tas the preacher says, when the boys are pitchin' beans at his nose) I say a crisis has arrived:-the wheels of government is stopped; the rudder's unshipped;-the biler busted;and we're afloat and the river risin;-our glorious Ship of State, that like a bobtailed gander has so peacefully glided adown the current of time, has had its harmony disturbed; and is now driftin' with fearful rapidity towards the shoals and quicksands of disunion, threatenin' to bust everything into fiinders, and pick itself up in the end, a gone goslin.' Hearken no longer ye worthy denizens of Goose Hollow, Terrapin Neck, Possum Swamp, and adjacent regions, to the siren voice that whispers in your ear the too delusive sound of peace, peace;-for peace has sloped, and flowed to other lands:-or div to the depths of the mighty deep; or in the emphatic language of Tecumphsorun;

care a

"Gone flickerin through the frogs of other climes,
To aid the miser watcher in his dimes:"

or like the great Alexander, who at the battle of Hunker's Bill, in the agony of despair frantically shrieked out :-“O, gravy! peace has gone like my skule-boy days, and I don't (He was a whole hoss and team, sure.) Ladies and gentlemen: The great bird of American liberty has flown aloft, and soarin' on the wings of the aurore-borealis, is now hoverin' high o'er the cloud-capped peaks of the Rockagany mountains:-and when he shall have penetrated into the unknown regions of unlimited space," and then shall have stooped down, and lit on daddy's wood-pile; I shall be led to exclaim in the language of Paul, the hosler, pork, or die."

root

Fellow-citizens, and gals too: In our halls of legislation,

G

confusion runs riot and anarchy reigns supremest; rise up, then, like pokers in a tater-patch, and fall into ranks; sound the tocsin, blow the drum, and beat the tin-horn-till, the startled echoes, reverberatin' from hill-top to hifl-top, and from gopher-hill to gopher-hill, shall reach the adamantine hills of New England, and the ferruginious disporitions of Missouri, and the auriferous particles of California, to pick up their ears, and in whispered accents, inquire of her valors: "what's

out.

Feller-citizens and the wimmin: I repeat it, to your posts, and from the top-most peak of the Ozark Mountains bid defiance to the hull earth, by hollerin “who's afeard,” in such thunderin' tones, that quakin with fear, you'll forget what danger is. Don your rusty regimentals, and wipe the flints of your old guns; beat up your scythes and make swords of them, put on your huntin' shirts, mount your hosses, and "save the nation, or bust."

My dear hearers, and the rest of the boys; time's critical--and every man that's got a soul as big as the white of a "culled pusson' n's" eye, will fight, bleed, and die for his country. Thems the times you want men in the council of the nation you can depend on-that's me-elect me to Congress, and I'll stick to you through thick and thin, like a lean tick to a nigger's shin. You all know me, I've been fotched up among ye;—already, on the wings of top-lifted imagination, I fancy I can see you marching up to the polls in solid phalanx, and with shouts that make the earth ring. Hurrah! for Jim Smith; come down on my opponent like a thousand of brick on a rotten pumkin.

But, my devoted constituency, I'm not going to make an electioneerin' speech, I'd scorn the act from the lowest depths of my watch fob,--words are inadequate to fully portray my feelings towards you, and my love for office. All I ask is your votes, and leave everything else with the people;concluding in the touchin' words of that glorious old martyr in the wax figger bizness;-"Be virtuous and you'll be happy."