THE CHILDREN IN THE MOON.

Hearken, child, unto a story!

For the moon is in the sky, And across her shield of silver, See! two tiny cloudlets fly.

Watch them closely, mark them sharply,
As across the light they pass,—
Seem they not to have the figures
Of a little lad and lass?

See, my child, across their shoulders
Lies a little pole! and lo!
Yonder speck is just the bucket,
Swinging softly to and fro.

It is said, these little children,
Many and many a Summer night,
To a little well far northward

Wandered in the still moonlight.

Looks the little rosy boy!

But the little handsome maiden

Trips behind him full of joy.

To the well behind the hedgerow
Trot the little lad and maiden;
From the well behind the hedgerow
Now the little pail is laden.

How they please me! how they tempt me!
Shall I snatch them up to night?

Snatch them, set them here for ever,

In the middle of my light?

Children, ay, and children's children
Should behold my babes on high,
And my babes should smile for ever,
Calling others to the sky!"

Thus the philosophic Moon-man
Muttered many years ago,
Set the babes with pole and bucket,
To delight the folks below.

Never is the bucket empty,
Never are the children old;
Ever when the moon is shining
We the children may behold.

Ever young and ever little,
Ever sweet and ever fair!
When thou art a man, my darling,
Still the children will be there!

Ever young, and ever little,

They will smile when thou art old! When thy locks are thin and silver Theirs will still be shining gold.

They will haunt you from their heaven,
Softly beckoning down the gloom-
Smiling in eternal sweetness

On thy cradle, on thy tomb!

SHERIDAN'S RIDE.

(By T. Buchanan Read.)

Up from the South at break of day,
Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay;
The affrighted air with a shudder bore,
Like a herald in haste to the chieftain's door,
The terrible grumble and rumble and roar,
Telling the battle was on once more,
And Sheridan was twenty miles away.

And wider still those billows of war
Thundered along the horizon's bar,
And louder yet into Winchester rolled
The war of that red sea uncontrolled,
Making the blood of the listener cold,
As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray,
And Sheridan twenty miles away.

But there's a road from Winchester town,
A good, broad highway leading down;
And there, through the flush of the morning light,
A steed, as black as the steeds of night,
Was seen to pass as with eagle flight;
As if he knew the terrible need,

He stretched away with his utmost speed;
Hills rose and fell, but his heart was gay,
With Sheridan fifteen miles away.

Still sprung from those swift hoofs thundering South, The dust, like the smoke from the cannon's mouth, Or the trail of a comet sweeping faster and faster, Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster;

The heart of the steed and the heart of the master Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls, Impatient to be where the battle-field calls;

Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play, With Sheridan only ten miles away.

Under his spurning feet, the road
Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed,

And the landscape sped away behind,

Like an ocean flying before the wind;

And the steed, like a bark fed with with furnace ire

Swept on, with his wild eyes full of fire.

But, lo! he is nearing his heart's desire;

He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray,
With Sheridan only five miles away.

The first that the General saw were the groups

Of stragglers and then the retreating troops;-
What was done-what to do-a glance told him both;
Then striking his spurs, with a terrible oath,

He dashed down the line 'mid a storm of huzzas,

And the wave of retreat checked its course there because

The sight of the master compelled it to pause.

With foam and with dust the black charger was gray;

By the flash of his eye, and his red nostrils' play,

He seemed to the whole great army to say;

"I have brought you Sheridan all the way From Winchester down to save the day!"

Hurrah, hurrah for Sheridan!

Hurrah, hurrah for horse and man!
And when their statues are placed on high
Under the dome of the Union sky,
The American Soldiers' Temple of Fame,
There with the glorious general's name
Be it said in letters both bold and bright:
Here is the steed that saved the day
By carrying Sheridan into the fight,
From Winchester-twenty miles away!"

CLASSES-READINGS.

Persons desirous of forming classes for instruction, or wishing an evening's ENTERTAINMENT of READINGS for the public, or in the social circle, are respectfully requested to address―

J. E. FROBISHER,

NEW YORK.

TESTIMONIALS.

Odd-Fellow's Hall was crowded to its utmost capacity, last night, to hear Mr. FROBISHER and his class. All our teachers have taken lessons, besides many pupils in the High and Ward schools.-Zanesville Courier.

We most cordially commend him as an able, efficient, and faithful teacher.-Graduating Cl: 88 and Juniors, Dartmouth College.

Mr. FROBISHER has given entire satisfaction, and we heartily recommend him as a very able teacher.-Students of Kenyon College.

In our opinion he has few equals in this noble art, and we therefore commend him as a successful and industrious teacher. -Under Graduates and Students of Franklin College.

His Lecture before the Teacher's Association was received with rapturous applause. All were delighted.- Cleveland Daily Herald.

We cheerfully recommend him as an efficient and faithful teacher of Elocution.-Students of Victoria College, Canada.

Mr. FROBISHER delivered his Lecture before the Institute to a delighted audience.-Port-Hope Guide, Canala.