"Never knowd nothink, sir.” "Not so much as one short prayer?" "No, sir. Nothink at all. Mr. Chadbands he wos a prayin' wunst at Mr. Sangshy's, and I heerd him, but he sounded as if he wos speakin' to hisself, and not to me. He prayed a lot but I could n't make out nothink on it. Different times there wos other genimen come down Tom-allAlone's a prayin', but they all mostly sed as the t' other wuns prayed wrong, and all mostly sounded to be a talking to theirselves, or a passing blame on the t' others, and not a talkin' to us. We never knowd nothink. I never knowd what it wos all about." It takes him a long time to say this; and few but an experienced and attentive listener could hear, or, hearing, understand him. After a short relapse into sleep or stupor, he makes, of a sudden, a strong effort to get out of bed. "Stay, Jo, stay! What now?" "It 's time for me to go to that there berryin-ground, sir," he returns, with a wild look. "Lie down, and tell me. What burying-ground, Jo?” "Where they laid him as wos wery good to me; wery good to me indeed, he wos. It's time fur me to go down to that there berryin-ground, sir, and ask to be put along with him. I wants to go there and be berried. He used fur to say to me, 'I am as poor as you to-day, Jo,' he ses. I wants to tell him that I am as poor as him now, and have come there to be laid along with him." "By and by, Jo. By and by." "Ah! P'raps they would n't do it if I wos to go myself. But will you promise to have me took there, sir, and have me laid along with him?" "I will, indeed." "Thank'ee, sir! Thank'ee, sir! They'll have to get the key of the gate afore they can take me in, for it 's allus locked. And there's a step there, as I used fur to clean with my broom. It's turned wery dark, sir. Is there any light a comin'?" "It is coming fast Jo." Fast. The cart is shaken all to pieces, and the rugged road is very near its end. "Jo, my poor fellow!" "I hear you, sir, in the dark, but I'm a gropin',-a gropin', -let me catch hold of your hand." "Jo, can you say what I say?" "I'll say anythink as you say, sir, for I knows it 's good." "OUR FATHER.' "Our Father!-yes, that's wery good, sir." "WHICH ART IN HEAVEN." "Art in Heaven-is the light a comin', sir?" "It is close at hand. HALLOWED BE THY NAME!" "Hallowed be-thy-name!" The light is come upon the dark benighted way. Dead! Dead, your Majesty. Dead, my lords and gentlemen. Dead, Right Reverends and Wrong Reverends of every order. Dead, men and women, born with heavenly compassion in your hearts. And dying thus around us every day! CHARLES DICKENS. THE VOLUNTEER'S WIFE. "AN' sure I was tould to come to your Honor, "An' what'll ye tell him? It ought to be aisy For sich as yer Honor to spake wid the pen,— Jist say I'm all right, and that Mavoorneen Daisy (The baby, yer Honor,) is betther again. "For when he went off it's so sick was the childer "So he left her in danger, and me sorely gratin', O, it's often I drame of the big drums a batin', "An' "You've overmuch trifling, I'll not give ye trouble, "What, Patrick O'Connor! No, no, 't is some other! "Don't tell me! It's not him! O God, am I crazy? "The room is so dark, I'm not seein' yer Honor, "HI! Harry Holly! Halt,-and tell When you were home,-old comrade, say, "You did? Shake hands,-O, ain't I glad; I've got some feelin'— People think A soldier's heart is mighty tough; But, Harry, when the bullets fly, And hot saltpetre flames and smokes, While whole battalions lie afield, One's apt to think about his folks. "And so you saw them - when? and where? The old man - is he hearty yet? And mother- does she fade at all? Or does she seem to pine and fret For me? And Sis?- has she grown tall? you know (How this pipe chokes!) Where did you see her?— tell me, Hal, "You saw them in the church—yet say; "I said all well, old comrade, true; I say all well, for He knows best Who takes the young ones in his arms, Before the sun goes to the west. Fair Annie blooms no more! "See, this long curl was kept for you; A letter, telling all the rest. Bear up, old friend." Only the old camp raven croaks, Nobody speaks; "Boys, be still; And soldiers whisper: There's some bad news from Grainger's folks." He turns his back. the only foe That ever saw it — on this grief, And, as men will, keeps down the tears Kind Nature sends to Woe's relief. Then answers he: "Ah, Hal, I'll try; But in my throat there's something chokes, "I s'pose she must be happy now, She's safe up there, ETHEL LYNN. THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER. THREE students were traveling over the Rhine; 66 My beer and wine are fresh and clear; The first he drew near, and the veil gently raised, The second he slowly put back the shroud, |