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From what did it separate his province? From his country. Was that country a desert ? No; it was cultivated and fertile, rich and populous! Its sons were men of genius, spirit, and generosity! Its daughters were lovely, susceptible, and chaste! Friendship was its inhabitant! Love was its inbabitant! Domestic affection was its inhabitant! Liberty was its inhabitant! All bounded by the stream of the Rubicon! What was Cæsar, that stood upon the brink of that stream ? A traitor, bringing war and pestilence into the heart of that country! No wonder that he paused, no wonder if, his imagination wrought upon by his conscience, he had beheld blood instead of water, and heard groans. instead of murmurs ! No wonder if some gorgon horror had turned him into stone upon the spot! But, no! he cried, “ The die is cast !" He plunged l he crossed ! and Rome was free no more!
J. Sheridan Knowles.
"THE HEATHEN CHINEE’S” REPLY.*
(Ah Sin to Truthful James.)
Which my name is Ah Sin;
I don't want to call names,
Say of this T. James :
Well up in the sinfullest games.
Yes, Al Sin is my name,
Which I need not deny ;
You will find, if you try,
And how is Celestial for High?
And the way that he dealt,
There could nothing be finer; But somehow I felt,
*Mr. Ah Sin, from China, Because your smile is so child-like,
These fellows play you for a minor !"
But no slouch is Ah Sin,
And from the word“ Go!" I did play for to win,
And Nye-rather so ; And I played the new game as I learned him,
Which showed level head, don't you know?
On my nails there was wax,
But that nothing proves,
I was 'prenticed on shoes,
Was the kind that our shoemakers use.
And the packs up my sleeve,
My oath I will take,
But got there by mistake;
Who likes some card houses to make.
In my pockets they wero
When I sat down that day; But what with the stir
And excitement of play, They worked up my sleeve from my pocket,
And strange it was, too, I must say. Was it right in Bill Nye
When the trump knave I led,
And on me put a head
I'd have played something else in its stead
But I don't play no more,
For my lot now is cast On a euchreless shore,
MY WELCOME BEYOND.
Who will greet me first in heaven,
When that blissful realm I gain, When the hands have ceased from toiling
And the heart lath ceased from pain; When the last farewell is spoken,
Severed the last tender tie,
And low blest it is to die?
or that cold and silent stream, And I see the domes of temples
In the distance brightly gleamTemples of that beauteous city
From all blight and sorrow free, Who adown its golden portals
First will haste to welcome me?
Ah, whose eyes will watch my coming
From that fair and beauteous shore? Whose the voice I first shall listen
That shall teach me Heavenly lore? When my feet shall press the mystic
Borders of that better land, Whose face greet my wondering vision,
Wiose shall clasp the spirit hand ?
Who will gr me first in Ileaven?
Oft the earnest thought will rise, Musing on the unknown glories
Of that home beyond the skies ; Who will be my Heavenly mentor ?
Will it be some scraph bright, — Or an angel from the countless
Myriads of that world of light?
No, not these, for they bave never
Dawned upon my mortal view,But the dear ones gone beforo us,-
They the loved, the tried, the true; They who walked with us life's pathway,
To its joys and griefs were given,
KEEPING HIS WORD.
"ONLY a penny a box,” he said ;
“Oh, sir, if you'll only take the pack
“And now it is nine by the clock," he said, “ Time that my darlings were all a-bed; Kiss me good night', and each be sure, When you're saying your prayers, remember the poor.'
Just then came a message—“A boy at the door,”-
“Mike's liurt, sir; 'twas dark ; the snow made him blinil,
“ Yet nothing would do liim, sir--nothing would do
When the garret they hastily entered, they saw
THE SEVENTI PLAGUE OF EGYPT.
'Twas morn--the rising splendor rolled