2d. Always avoid drafts-on yourself-unless endorsed by a man with lots of "soap." 3d. In cold weather always wear thick, warm clothing about your body. If you haven't money enough to buy it, attend an inextinguishable conflagration in the vicinity of a first-class clothing shop. 4th. If you wear spectacles avoid going into any firemen's riots that may be transpiring. The reason of this is, that in addition to having your feelings hurt, you will very likely get more glass in your eyes than you had out side. 5th. If you are quite a small baby be careful that there are no pins in your clothes, and always take a drink of milk punch out of a bottle with a gum thing on the muzzle, before you get into your cradle. 6th. In eating raw oysters always peel the shells off before swallowing. The shells are indigestible and are apt to lay on the stomach. 7th. Never sleep more than nine in a bed, even in a country hotel where a Poltical Convention is being held. It is apt to produce a nightmare if any of the party kick in their sleep. This is especially the case when they go to bed with their boots on. 8th. Abstain entirely from alcoholic drinks. The best way to do that is not to drink any alcohol. 9th. Never travel on railroad trains. Many persons have died quite unexpectedly by this imprudence. 10th. Never jab butcher knives, steel forks, and such things into you vitals: it is very unwholesome. 11th. Always come in when it rains, and if a rattlesnake bites you in the leg cut it off, unless you wear false calves or a wooden leg. In that case just untie it and take it off. I don't say that fellows who follow these instructions will never die and let their friends enjoy a ride to the cemetery, but you won't get choked off in the bloom of your youth and beauty. SOMEBODY'S DARLING. INTO a ward of the whitewashed halls, Somebody's Darling, so young and so brave, Was it a mother's, soft and white? Been baptized in their waves of light? God knows best! he was somebody's love: Somebody's heart enshrined him there; Somebody wafted his name above, Night and morn, on the wings of prayer. Somebody wept when he marched away, Looking so handsome, brave, and grand; Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay, Somebody clung to his parting hand. Somebody's waiting and watching for himYearning to hold him again to her heart; And there he lies with his blue eyes dim, And the smiling, child-like lips apart. Tenderly bury the fair young dead, Pausing to drop on his grave a tear; Carve in the wooden slab at his head, "Somebody's Darling slumbers here." THE WIFE.-J. G. Whittier. AN IDYL OF BEARCAMP WATER. FROM School, and ball, and rout, she came, To drink the wine of mountain air Her step grew firmer on the hills That watch our homesteads over; For health comes sparkling in the streams, She sat beneath the broad-armed elms Beside her, from the summer heat Framed in its damp, dark locks, his face Had nothing mean or common— Strong, manly, true, the tenderness She looked up, glowing with the health "To mend your frock and bake your bread You do not need a lady: Be sure among these brown old homes "Some fair, sweet girl with skilful hand He bent his black brows to a frown, "You think, because my life is rude, "Itself its best excuse, it asks No leave of pride or fashion, "You think me deaf and blind; you bring Your winning graces hither, As free as if from cradle-time, "You tempt me with your laughing eyes, A music as of thrushes. "The plaything of your summer sport, The spells you weave around me, You cannot at your will undo, Nor leave me as you found me. "You go as lightly as you came, "No mood is mine to seek a wife, "I dare your pity or your scorn, She looked up in his face of pain, "And if I lend you mine," she said, "Nor frock nor tan can hide the man; "I love you on that love alone, Alone the hangbird overhead, His hair-swung cradle straining, And so the farmer found a wife, There looks no happier home than hers Flowers spring to blossom where she walks Our hard, stiff lines of life with her Our homes are cheerier for her sake, We send the squire to eneral Court ; No prouder man election-day Rides through the sweet June weather. So spake our landlord as we drove Until, at last, beneath its bridge, And, musing on the tale I heard, If more and more we found the troth And culture's charm and labor's strength The simple life, the homely hearth, |