THE BLIND MEN AND THE ELEPHANT.

It was six men of Indostan

To learning much inclined,
Who went to see the Elephant
(Though all of them were blind,)
That each by observation

Might satisfy his mind.

The First approached the Elephant,
And, happening to fall

Against his broad and sturdy side,
At once began to bawl:
"God bless me! but the Elephant
Is very like a wall !''

The Second, feeling of the tusk,

Cried: "Ho! what have we here
So very round and smooth and sharp?
To me 'tis mighty clear

This wonder of an Elephant

Is very like a spear!"

The Third approached the animal,

And, happening to take

The squirming trunk within his hands,

Thus boldly up and spake :

"I see," quoth he, "the Elephant

Is very like a snake!"

The Fourth reached out his eager hand,

And felt about the knee:

"What most this wondrous beast is like

Is mighty plain," quoth he;

"Tis clear enough the Elephant

Is very like a tree.

The Fifth, who chanced to touch the ear,
Said: "E'en the blindest man

Can tell what this resembles most;

Deny the fact who can,

This marvel of an Elephant

Is very like a fan !"

The Sixth no sooner had begun

About the beast to grope,

Than, seizing on the swinging tail

That fell within his scope,

"I see," quoth he, "the Elephant
Is very like a rope!"

And so these men of Indostan

Disputed loud and long,
Each in his own opinion

Exceeding stiff and strong,

Though each was partly in the right,
And all were in the wrong!

MORAL.

So, oft in theologic_wars
The disputants, I ween,
Rail on in utter ignorance
Of what each other mean,
And prate about an Elephant
Not one of them has seen!

J. G. Saxe.

THE LAUNCHING OF THE SHIP.

ALL is finished, and at length

Has come the bridal day

Of beauty and of strength.

To-day the vessel shall be launched!

With fleecy clouds the sky is blanched,
And o'er the bay,

Slowly, in all his splendors dight,

The great sun rises to behold the sight.

The ocean old,

Centuries old,

Strong as youth, and as uncontrolled,

Paces restless to and fro,

Up and down the sands of gold.

His beating heart is not at rest;

And far and wide

With ceaseless flow

His beard of snow

Heaves with the heaving of his breast.

He waits impatient for his bride.

There she stands,

With her foot upon the sands,

Decked with flags and streamers gay,

In honor of her marriage-day,

Her snow-white signals fluttering, blending,
Round her like a veil descending,

Ready to be

The bride of the gray old sea.

Then the Master,

With a gesture of command,
Waved his hand;

And at the word,

Loud and sudden there was heard,
All around them and below,

The sound of hammers, blow on blow,
Knocking away the shores and spurs.
And see! she stirs !

She starts,-she moves,-she seems to feel
The thrill of life along her keel,

And, spurning with her foot the ground,
With one exulting, joyous bound,
She leaps into the ocean's arms.
And lo! from the assembled crowd
There rose a shout, prolonged and loud,
That to the ocean seemed to say,

"Take her, O, bridegroom, old and gray ;
Take her to thy protecting arms,
With all her youth and all her charms."

How beautiful she is! how fair

She lies within those arms, that press
Her form with many a soft caress

Of tenderness and watchful care!

Sail forth into the sea, O, ship!

Through wind and wave, right onward steeI . The moistened eye, the trembling lip,

Are not the signs of doubt or fear

Sail forth into the sea of life,
Oh gentle, loving, trusting wife,
And safe from all adversity,
Upon the bosom of that sea
Thy comings and thy goings be!
For gentleness, and love, and trust,
Prevail o'er angry wave and gust;
And in the wreck of noble lives
Something immortal still survives!

Thou, too, sail on, O ship of State !
Sail on, O Union, strong and great!
Humanity, with all its fears,
With all its hopes of future years,
Is hanging breathless on thy fate!
We know what Master laid thy keel,
What workmen wrought thy ribs of steel,
Who made each mast, and sail and rope,
What anvils rang, what hammers beat,
In what a forge, and what a heat,
Were shaped the anchors of thy hope.

Fear not each sudden sound and shock;
'Tis of the wave, and not the rock;
'Tis but the flapping of the sail,
And not a rent made by the gale.
In spite of rock and tempest roar,
In spite of false lights on the shore,
Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea.

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee:
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears,

Are all with thee-are all with thee.

II. W. Longfellow.

ON TO FREEDOM.

ON to Freedom! On to Freedom!
'Tis the everlasting cry

Of the floods that strive with ocean-
Of the storms that smite the sky';

Of the atoms in the whirlwind,

Of the seed beneath the ground-
Of each living thing in Nature
That is bound!

'Twas the cry that led from Egypt,
Through the desert wilds of Edom:
Out of darkness-out of bondage-
On to Freedom! On to Freedom!

Oh! thou stony-hearted Pharaoh !
Vainly warrest thou with God!
Moveless, at thy palace portals,
Moses waits, with lifted rod!
Oh, thou poor barbarian, Xerxes!
Vainly o'er the Pontic main
Flingest thou, to curb its utterance,
Scourge or chain !

For the cry that led from Egypt,
Over desert wilds of Edom,

Speaks alike through Greek and Hebrew:
On to Freedom! On to Freedom!

In the Roman streets, with Gracchus,
Hark! I hear that cry outswell;
In the German woods, with Hermann,
And on Switzers' hills, with Tell!
Up from Spartacus, the Bondman,
When his tyrant's yoke he clave,
And from stalwart Wat the Tyler-
Saxon slave!

Still the old, old cry of Egypt,

Struggling up from wilds of Edom-
Sounding still through all the ages:

On to freedom! On to Freedom!

On to Freedom! On to Freedom!
Gospel cry of laboring Time:
Uttering still through seers and sages,
Words of hope and faith sublime!
From our Sidneys, and our Hampdens,
And our Washingtons they come :
And we cannot-and we dare not
Make them dumb!

Out of all the shames of Egypt-
Out of all the snares of Edom;
Out of darkness-out of bondage-
On to Freedom! On to Freedom!

A. J. H. Duganne.

MARK TWAIN'S "GREAT BEEF-CONTRACT.”

IN as few words as possible I wish to lay before the nation what share, howsoever small, I have had in this matter, this matter which has so exercised the public mind, engendered so much ill-feeling, and so filled the newspapers of both continents with distorted statements and extravagant comments.

The origin of this distressful thing was this,—and I assert here that every fact in the following resume can be amply proved by the official records of the General Government.

John Wilson Mackenzie, of Rotterdam, Chemung County, New Jersey, deceased, contracted with the General Government, on or about the 10th day of October, 1861, to furnish to General Sherman the sum total of thirty barrels of beef. Very well. He started after Sherman with the beef, but when he got to Washington, Sherman had gone to Manassas; so he took the beef and followed him there, but arrived too late; he followed him to Nashville, and from Nashville to Chattanooga, and from Chattanooga to Atlanta,-but he never could overtake him. At Atlanta he took a fresh start and followed him clear

through his march to the sea. He arrived too late again