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And the ancient Arrow-maker
Pleasant was the journey homeward.
Over wide and rushing rivers
All the travelling winds went with them,
Pleasant was the journey homeward !
Having such a wise to love you!"
From the sky the sun benignant
From the sky the moon looked at them,
Thus it was they journeyed homeward;
EXCELSIOR.- By H. W. Longfellow.
The shades of night were falling fast,
"Try not the pass!" the old man said;
Beware the awful avalanche !"
THE SONG OF SHERMAN'S ARMY.-By C. G. IIclpina
A PILLAR of fire by night,
A pillar of smoke by day,
And so we hold our way;
Over mountain and nlain and stream
When they see the Old Flag and hear the drum
Announce is on the way; When they see the Old Flag, and hear tlie drum Beating time to our onward way. Never unlimber a gun
For those villanous lines in grey,
'Tis thus we clear our way,
Are lond in tueir cheers to-day;
To see us hold our way;
Their futile squadrons play,,
We hold our checkless way;
From the woods and copses grey,
As we frolic along the way!
The heads of our columns gay,
Hold on their conquering way.
In the sad war's early day,
MR. PICKWICK'S ROMANTIC ADVENTURE WITH A
MIDDLE-AGED LADY IN YELLOW CURL PAPERS,
Pickwick Papers. “Dear me, it's time to go to bed. It will never do, sitting here. I shall be pale to-morrow, Mr. Pickwick !"
At the bare notion of such a calamity, Mr. Peter Magnus rang the bell for the chamber-maid; and the striped bag, the red bag, the leather hat-box, and the brown-paper parcel, having been conveyed to his bed-room, he retired in company with a japannel candlestick to one side of the house, while Nr. Pickwick, and another japanned candlestick, were conducted through a multitude of tortuous windings, to another.
“This is your room, Sir," said the chamber-maid.
“Very well,” replied Mr. Pickwick, looking round him. It was a tolerably large double-bedded room, with a fire; upon the whole, a more comfortable-looking apartment than Mr. Pickwick's short experience of the accommodations of the Great White Horse liad led him to expect.
“Nobody sleeps in the other bed, of course," said Mr. Pickwick.
Oh, no, Sir." “Very good. Tell my servant to bring me up some hot water at half-past eight in the morning, and that I shall not want him any more to-night."
“Yes, Sir.” And bidding Mr. Pickwick good-night, the chamber-maid retired, and left him alone.
Mr. Pickwick sat himself down in a chair before the fire, and fell into a train of rambling meditations. First he thought of his friends, and wondered when they would join him; then his mind reverted to Mrs. Martha Bardell; and from that lady it wandered by a natural process, to the dingy counting-house of Dodson and Fogg. From Dodson and Fogg's it flew off at a tangent, to the verv centre of the history of the queer client: and then it came back to the Great White Horse at Ipswich, with sufficient clearness to convince Mr. Pickwick that he was falling asleep; so he roused himself, and began to undress, when he recollected he had left his watch on the table down stairs,
Now this watch was a special favorite with Mr. Pickwick, having been carried about, beneath the shadow of his waistcoat for a greater number of years than we feel called upon to state, at present. The possibility of going to sleep, unless it were ticking gently beneath his pillow, or in his watch-pocket over his Lead, had never entered Mr. Pickwick's brain. So as it was pretty late now, and he was unwilling to ring his bell at that hour of the night, he slipped on his coat, of which he had just divested himself, and taking the japanned candlestick in his hand, walked quietly down stairs.
The more stairs Mr. Pickwick went down, the more stairs there seemed to be to descend, and again and again, when Mr. Pickwick got into some narrow passage, and began to congratulate himself