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“ With breathless speed, like a soul in chase,
I took him up and ran;
Before the day began:
I hid the murdered inan;
“And all that day I read in school,
But my thought was otherwliere;
In secret I was there;
And still the corpse was bare.
“Then down I cast me on my face,
And first began to weep,
That earth refused to keep, —
Ten thousand fatlioms deep.
“So wills the fierce avenging sprite,
Till blood for blood atones;
And trodden down with stones,
The world shall see his bones.
“O God! that horrid, horrid dream
Besets me now, awake;
The human life I take;
Like Cranmer's at the stake.
“And still no peace for the restless clay,
Will wave or mould allow;
It stands before me now!"
Huge drops upon his brow.
That very night, while gentle sleep
The urchin eyelids kissed,
Through the cold and heavy mist;
SHYLOCK TO ANTONIO.
Signor Antonio, many a time and oft
JOSII BILLINGS ON “GONGS.” Josh Billings relateth his first experience with the gong thusly: I kan never holi eradicate from my memory the sound ov the first gong I ever herd. I was settin on the frunt step of a tavurn in the sity of Bufferlow, pensively smokin. The sun was goin to bed, and the hevins fur and near was a blushin at the performance. The Ery Kanal with its golden waters was on its way to Albany, and I was perusin the line botes a floatin by, and thinking of Italy (wher I uste to live) and gondolers and gallus wimmin. Mi entire sole, was, as it were, in a swet-i wanted to klimb-i felt grate, i aktually gru. There are things in this life not tu be trilled with: there are times when a man brakes luce from hisself, when he sees spiruts, or when he kin almost tuch the mune, and feels az if he could
fil both hans with the stars of bevin, and almost swear he was a bank president,—that's what ailed me.
But the koarse of tru luv never did run smuthe, (this is Shakespeare's opinyun tu,-I and he often thunk thru one quil,)—jist az I waz duin mi best,—dummer, dummer, spat, bang, beller, crash, roar, jam, dummer, rip, whang, roar, menjus, rally, jump, I struck the centre of the sidewalk, with anuther I klared the gutter, and with anuther I struck the middle of the street, snortin like an injun pony at a band uv musick. I gazed in despair at the tavurn, and mi heart was swelled up as big as a outdore uven, my teeth were as loose as a string of bedes. I thot all the crockery in the tavurn had fell down. I thot of fenomonons. I thot of Gabril and hiz horn. I was jist on the pint of thinkin somethin else when the landlord kum to the front step uy the tavurn, holdin by a string the bottom of a brass kittle. He kawled me gentli with his hand. I went slola and slola up to him, he kammed my fearz, he said it was a gong. I saw the kussed thing. He said supper was reddy. H, G. Shau.
OUT IN THE STREETS.
The light is shining through the window-pano;
It is a laughing group that side the glass;-. Within, all light; without, pitch-dark, and rain; I see, but feel no pleasure as I
pass, Out in the streets.
All these have homes, and hope, and light, and cheer,
And those around who love them. Ah! for me,
Out in the streets.
The rain soaks through my clothing to the skin;
So let it. Curses on that cheery light! There is no light with me, and shame, and sin; I wander iu the night and of the night,
Out in the streets.
You who betrayed me with a loving kiss,
Whose very touch could thrill me through and throughWhen you first sought me, did you think of this? My curse- -But why waste time in cursing you,
Out in the streets ?
You are beyond my hatred now. You stand
Above reproach; you know no wrong nor guile:
Out in the streets,
You have a daughter, young and innocent.
You love her, doubtless. I was pure as she,
Out in the streets.
How the cold rain benumbs my weary limbs!
What makes the pavement heave? Ah! wet and chill, I hear the little children singing hymns In the village church.-how peaceful, now, and still,
Out in the streets!
But why this vision of my early days?
Why comes the church-door in the public way? Hence with this mocking sound of prayer and Draisel
ORATION AGAINST CATILINE.
How long, o Catiline, wilt thou abuse our patience ? IIow long shalt thou baffle justice in thy mad career ? To what extreine wilt thou carry thy audacity ? Art thou nothing daunted by the nightly watch, posted to secure the Palatium? Nothing, by the city guards ? Nothing, by the rally of all good citizens ? Nothing, by the assembling of the Senate in this fortified place? Nothing, by the averted looks of all here present? Seest thou not that all thy plots are exposed ? that thy wretched conspiracy is laid bare to every man's knowledge, here in the Senate? that we are well aware of thy proceedings of last night; of the night before ;—the place of meeting, the company convoked, the measures concerted ? Alas, the times! Alas, the public morals! The Senate understands all this. The Consul sees it. Yet the traitor lives! Lives ? Ay, truly, and confronts us here in council, takes part in our deliberations, and, with his measuring eye, marks out each man of us for slaughter. And we, all this while, strenuous that we are, think we have amply discharged our duty to the State, if we but shun this madman's sword and fury.
Long since, O Catiline, ought the Consul to bave ordered thee to execution, and brought upon thy own head the ruin thou hast been meditating against others. There was that virtue once in Rome, that a wicked citizen was held more execrable than the deadliest foe. We have a law still, Catiline, for thee. Think not that we are powerless, because forbearing. We have a decree,—though it rests among our archives like a sword in its scabbard,
decree by which thy life would be made to pay the