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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mAthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 POETitM 'iLUliAiiuiMb. li^ A f % m *^ ^ \ /^j r PKHhACE. la publUl.iug -Poetical MeditatiouH " the writer is nut igacrano of tlie fact that there are critic« lu the world, but hopes that his httle production mny be Keneronslv spa'red by t.^est .'.h&rp-eyef. j<(^ntry. ou the same principle that tlio Mtimmnia apared by the jion, because it is too small ^ame *-rrtc'd by that noble beast. ihjects broin^ht before^ the' reader in t\w^ verses 11 from the home lifpr or the history of our country varaes have#been jvritten by request, and all of them the writer has cn- Hth, reraemberin}^ that ood m.iy be sbt in rhyme. ■otry is always true. Zl^l/^'f^^'"''- *" ^^''' ^^'-^^ it would be useless one of which it is necessary to call attention [u ^ue verses entitled ' My 13oy Is Dead," in the firs hi". .i:^t Zut-'"''"' '''' ^ «"^^'«" should read le is a f^em more puie and brij^ht •"i^l*^*' ^^"^^ ^^^^^ *^e *>«>w of nitht ch hides beneath its generous glow fault or error it may know ; ih my verses each to be n the light of charitv. All L. l\ *Vv v: POETICAL MEDITATI NS, BY A < b ^ ^ YOUNG CANADIAN KE8PKCTFULLY DEDICATED IX) REV. .1. IL iril/tX -BY- LEONARD J. HILTS. KINCARDINE, 188:^ K I N A II D I N K. Printed at the * St»n(l«rd" N«i»s and Job Offioe. /A^S.^*:^JU^ n .• »ii '^'at'-fc <.->»:■;,;. m.M C^i^4i?i, Ot/iJ HOME. TlivYv :s a place called home, around which the warmest nffool of flu- liciirf, must ever centre, though our 8tep^ n»ay be far aistjiut • Loved Canada, thou fairest gem That shines in Britain's ghtterin{? crown, Whose beauty nc.'ther voice or pen Has ever half to man made known, ^ To the« I give thic song of ctaise. To thee would oflfer proud«^8t lays. We love old Britain, noble land. Whose sons have won undying fame, Whose warriors brave, with firmest hand. Upheld her flag throuu? smoke and flamf?, But of all natif^ns, far or near, Our home must evtr be most dear. We love our home, beneath her sky Our hearts have throbbed with joy and piun Within her graves our loved ones lie, Who, though we 'neet not here again. Still live in memory's sacred bower, Like light that gilds the dying hour. We praise our home, here love first thrilled Our hearts with man's most lasting joy ; While with its light our lives are filled Naught can our happiness dep' oy ; Love for our fellows and our God Shall last beyond the sleeping sod. W^e love our home, the best of earth ; Friends who would scorn to own a fear Laugh with us in the hour of mirth, Or to our sorrow give a tear ; And though afar our steps may roam, Our hearts must ever be at home. Let other nations boast with pride Their deeds of valor and of might, We, with our loved ones by our side. Shall glory in the truth and ^ght ; Shall boast that never stain of blood Has dimmed the light of brotherhood. Tm "^1, "" "^ ^'■"'^' *"^ peace alone, rill o or tho world, from sea to 8ea. 1 he greatness of our laud is known • f;ortlnHweask.forthi8weprav, • nil nations pa^sfrom earth aw^y. KIXCAIiDINE, Kind friends I hope you will a..rce If HOC, I ask your pardon, ' but ,n our land, or oer the sea. There s no place like Kincardine. V/^e've gents to spare, and ladies rare Here grace and beauty mingle ; w' 7 '^y «o"'' I '"ast declare ^ e haN e boys who need the sbiugle. We've hearts that never shall grow old Though time from youth may sever T^, virtue, which is more than goh"! bi.al] wear its youth forever. ' Like light that fills at close of dav 1 he skies with bluslnng beautv'. bweet smdes chase ev.ry uhade awav. And nerve our hearts to duty. We've everything to please the miud Ui aister, aunt or cousin • Good cider when we feel iucliwd. And "old maids "by the dozen. Ut erring, far too many, i:/-^"^^^ say, with feeling sad, Ut christians, scarcely any. Birt bless my haart, 1 most forgot, lill now my song is over, 10 tell some things we have not got But fear 'twould be a poser if^' 8 Thau here's to us, may we here stay Aa louf* aH we debire, And when from earth we pass away, lie farthest from the fiie. THE IV HECK or THE ''ASIA." 'Tis midnight on the troubled deep, Tae restless waters moan and sif^h, As thou^'h in sorrow tliey would weep Tnat fair and brave bo soon must die. The Uth of Sept., 1882, will long be remeraborecl by many (f the inhabitants of our fair Canada with fetflin^s of sorrow :itid regret ; as, upon that date there occurred a calamity whicli c ast a. shadow over many homcf,, that shall be lifted only b\ ihehand of eternity. We hear of many ships beiu;4 lost, of inanv lives ceasing in the storm and darkness, but we do not realise, nor can we understand the full meaning thereof, until. ks in the case of the Asia, the crew and passengars of the fated vessel are our own friends and loved ones. Home of those who went forth amid tlie raylesa gloom of that September mid- nig'it. w;ie:i thj st^jaoiir left lor the last tima the shelter of a harbor, were persons with whom we weie intimately con- nected, persons who were united to us by the strongest ties of friendship and affec'.ion ; the ones who watched throughout tlie long hours of that last night, as the unfortunate vessel struggled wiUi the waves of Lake Huron, were those with wlioiri we have mingled, either in social intercourse, or in the nearer and dearer union of the circle of home. A year has gone by since the dread occurrence, but the vacant places by our firesides are still unoccupied, while we wait in vaui for footsteps that shall come no more, and with these t(/ remind, telling rnore eloquently than words a story of loss and sorrow, tlie sinking of the doomed Asia shall not soon be forgotten. Who would have supposed, as they watched the preparations for departure on that fatal night, as they observed the strong arms and stalwart forms of the crew, or witnessed the smiliuii faces of the passengers, that two alone of that company v/ouM return, to tell a tale of shipwreck and suffering ? 'Let u.s imagine ourselves m a position to witness the departure of the Asia, and to follow her stormy course until she, together with her burden of human beings, is lost iu an ocean grave. The night is dark, it is true, while the troubled waters toss and nioan, as though conscious of impending evil, but Brave hearts are Iiere that know not fear, And amilcH and juy, without a tear, and as we take the parting hand of those about to rmhark wordB of cacer are alone spoken, to which a praver for their Hjtfe journev across the waters is fervently added. And why should they fear ? Their vessel is stronK.'her crew are brave and compe ent, youth, health and beauty, ail tlmt is required to render the voyajre a pleasant one mingle together, and so With careless jest they say farewell, Nor hear the solemn funeral knell That now, upon the shrieking blast, Proclaims the parting is their last. J!ut though they see it not. though hidden from their gaze perhaps by a bfight dream of the future, a shadow, blacke; fnan the most sombre shades of midnight, hovers over the liave fled from the western sky, that noble ship, wilh her precious burden of human life, shall be lost amid a gloom and darkness from which she shall emerge no more. Oiiward, away from ;he harbor they move. Forms that are dearest, and faces we love Hands waving' back, as they pass from the shore. Kisses, from lipa we shall press nevermore. The harbor is left behind, the open waters of Lake Huron are gained, and the Asia hurries on her stormy way But th-^ gale increases in fury, the winds howl more fiercely, and with each passing moment the chances for safety erow less and less, btill no word of alarm is spoken, and each enquirv as to danger is answered by words of cheer and enc.iuragem'ent. The brave Captain Savage stands at his post of duty? and i^ thought of disaster presents itself it is known only to himself" Onward and onward, and the storm, now grown to a hurricane of the wildest description, rages with unabated violence, ihe Asia shudders beneath the blows of her enemy, and a tremor of fear invades the circle within the lighted cabin, which until the present moment, had smiled at the gatherin-' tempest. The fact of imminent daugar is now too plain to be longer denied, and the boldest heart upon that realing boat beats with a quickened motion, while the face of the most iiopeful wears an expression of the deepest anxiety. Still the dauntless captain and his brave officers endeavor to banish alarm by assurances of safety, which they, although they tell It not, have but litUe hope of being fulfilled. All lon^' for the morning ; thinking perhaps that with its coming the fmmSHetm^^l^B.^ .^g^ mm.'mm^ <^Mmmmi9%Mm^^^^Y ^^^^\-^^ u storm may ceaso ; tl.e hoi^iovoxxn waters become calm. Tlip jiioruin}' (lawns, but black, an(4ry clou-ls Like gloomy banners unfurled to tbe sky, Telling that death, tbo last victor is uit/h, ^ ,.aa a terror to the acone, scomin;; to mo.k t^'« ^^«l{;-^tTi?^ ,h:.Ke who stand u,>o,» the treniblum ^l'^"'^ "^J^.^'^J/JeS vrsscl, which no earthly pow.r can now save ^'^^J^^^^'^^^^^ ate- lUit Hhall wo writ, of thm drc;ul l^""'-'^^ Our pen ';Htch hour for thccominu of the last messontjer? Our pen falters, and we will only add Kind Hoaven hoip thevn. their last ^V;^'' ^;';:^ Xm' Fvcs wlldiv starting, and t-.n^uos that nre dum neartH beating fant. and With quick ^'"»;;";, ^J,^'^^'*' One terrible moment they stru-^^le with death. „ud after the »tru-lo is ovrr. and wo liave -;t t^J^ ^^^^jf^f^^^^^ that sur-h is tl.e case, that their last thoughts are of the ones uhoni tiiev kit but a few hours before Then, with white faces uptarncd to the..»ky. Breathing a grayer to the rda^tcr ou\n^^^, Thinking of lovcl ones, t'uey sink m the deep. Never on earth to rejoice or to weep. r>ut one hfe-boat ha. been successfully ^^'^f ^^.^.^l";'" „! n'l wrecked ves.el, and the occupants, after ^iunly en oa^or . to rescue mora of the:r drowning conipanions, pull for n - distant shore. And to cheer each other m th t torrib struc'-ie with the ra;;in'i waters, they sini; of .he b.ve.. liye and Bye," yes, Alono upon ihe an;4rv deep, They sinj^ of rest beyond the aravo ; Silent' and cold thoir comrades sleep, The last, lonj,' sleep, beneath the wave. Ta the midst of the shriekini^ tempest, ^^^'^^^ t^'"^^';;^^^:;;'^*!; ! mo nent to destroy, tli^y siu^, ?.s only brave ""-^'^ ^^^V 1 .d when one hv o.-e, weary with ^}^^^, ^:''Sl^^,^^^tZ they sink in death-, it is with words of that '^^J"^^^^^^;'*^^^ ndv upon their hps. tellinu, that even in the aso hour, tti- hope of rest in the future had not forsaken tlie.n. Of those who comprised the crew of the Asia all wer^ lost, and but two p.isseugers, Mr. Tinkas, '^"^. ^^^^^'^^^^Vh^ nson. after bemo exposed to hardships ^^^^.^^ ^^ ^^^^,3'^ " stronu and brave could have endured, reached ^l^^ J'.'J^/^;'; ted of the calamity. The steamer went down wthU-. en-ines still working, and with her sin km '^ there went to an oceau grave a brave captain and an efficieut crew. ro THE Moox. Tliou silvery Sovereijjn of ti)e niuht. That 1-atlies the earth in waves ol li'-];t. Tliat v/ith a shinin/,' roby doth clotliu The barren wasto aiul leulv j,'inve, ' Wliat varied picturps then hast seen In crowded streets, on vii;a>jo •,'reou. O'er all the world thy li-'ht h.ist shone, From lonely hut to" kiu^'iy thu-ne. ' • O'er mountain top, aud restless wave. O'er scene of mirth, and silent grave ; O'er all the land, where'er it be. From trackless wild to soundiii" sea. Thou hast looked on manhood's loftv pride, On lau,'hin<,' child and blusliing bride; On faces flushed with joy and iiealth. On humble cot and halls of wealth'; On -ilT mankind, the false, the true. That live "neath thine own realm of blue. ,5 On city's gilded tower thou ha.st shone, ^ On country church and palace dome : On graveyard quiet, where, 'neatl. the sod The slumbering wait the trump of Cod; Where youtli and bea.itv minuled lie, With pallid cheek and sightless eye. On placid stream thy light hast played. Where gallaut youth and winsome maid In whispered words the story told, Forever new, and ever o!d, That linked, till death should tear apart. The loving hand and faithful heart. The gentle brooklet thou hast kissed. While angry waves th;;t .'oudly hissed, Have grown pale beneath tl)y smile. As boastful coward, vvit.k and vile, Blanches before grim ju-tice stern. Or virtue's rays that br: ' itly burn. .mi^zM You ^'ooilly ship tlmt kft Hie ahoro, Th.it to'our Hi^ht returned uo more. Thou s'lwest lier sink beneath the waves, And bear our loved to ocean graves ; Whil'st thou a faithful watch dost keep, Wheie fair and brav(> toj^ether Bleep. Till time shall end thy lijiht v.'iU filow, Thoujih ' man may come and man may ^o ;' And when at last thy reiyn is o'er, When trumpet sound i from shore to shore, Thoult lose thy li^ht in uori.ls above, Where all is light, and peace and love. rVT YOURSELF IN THEIR PLACE. We are often tempted to censure ton ?tronply oar follow uinrtnly who Inive wandered in sinful patlis. If before doinsr /o. we wmijl t;»ke into consideration tho circumstances) under which they tc. . tl;.' temptations to which they were subiectcd, we w<.u reached, the shadow of death came down, and the fairest colors went out amid the gloom and darkness. But though the light oi life is lost to earth, wo have a hope that in yon shadclcss n-orld it shines with undimmed lustre. Gladness is over all below, The spring has come, the winter fled ; But oh ! my heart is filled with woe, For he, my brave, bright boy, is dead. 13 Ob ! tell me not that all is ^ay, That birds of raorniug ^{ladly smg ; They cannot chase my Rtief away, Or rob uiy sorrow of its sting. For one sweet smile is hushed to earth That lent its music to my life ; One voice that rang with tnrobless mirth No longer cheers me in the strife. Nature has flung the robe aside That hid her beauty frojii my sight, And now, in glad triumphant pride. She smiles at winter's vanquished niglit. JUit all in vain the light may glow, And eild the bosom of the wave ; It cannot ease the pangs I know, Or bring ray loved one from the grave. And if, while brightest hues unfold, Some wonder at this drooping head, The answer in these words is told, My boy, my noble boy, is dead. Oh 1 Master, from yon shadeless home Look down in pity on me now ; Help me to mingle with my moan A prayer, as at thy feet I bow. For thou alone can st give me rest When weary with ray sorrow here ; • Thy hand alone can'st soothe my breast, And give me gladness for a tear. Oh ! help me, though ray heart still turn-* To the loved one who could not stay, While for his smile my spirit yearns, To look beyond where all is day. Then when each scene of life is o'er. When the last farewell word is said, In cloudless worlds I'll say no more My bov is dead, my boy is dead 14 OLD MAIDS. \ .siiicerely hope the heading to these verses will <.if....i - M maid has loug euough beeu tl^.e subject of censuv. |w.d I, therefore, raise my .oice in her defence, a thiu' i..; •'HM'an being has dared to do before. I had long tried in vain a subject to find ] h/^T K,",''"""^' ^^^^^ ^^d been said. T hnnT f ^ V ^'^"'"' ^ '^^^^ questioned my mind I had tortured my poor acking head ; ^ ind tS?h«.%' '^''' ^"'^.. though y^u may sm.K AiKl think that from reason I've strayed, d7n '';'^' -^"^ F^'^"' ^'^^ ^""^^ ^«r awhile' Uf that ridiculed mortal '• old maid." And fretful, and peevish and glum ; That naught in existence can make her look glu-1 Or hope for a pleasure to . ome ; ^ ' inat light from her bosom forever has fled Like sky that is robbed of its gold ; Ihat like fairest flowers, when summer is dead Her heart has grown withered and cold. ^ZU\^ '\ T'\^ "^^* *^^^t ^^e censure her so Without tinding out the true cause Of her ceasing to smile, and hor sighings of ^^ov■- For. according to natural laws, There must be some reason that we cannot see Some secret that's hidden from sight. ' Tl Jf\^ '?^^" ^ ^^^'''^ ^" the sonl of lier glee That has turned her glad morning to night ■'^ mu*^?", ^K *^® curtains were drawn asid- Ihat hide her past life from our view.' I 'i ? T\ u^^*^ f- "'^^tle of coldness and pria* A heart that beats loyal and true ^ T) a pledge that was made e're the frosts of deceit Had chilled the warm blood in its flow • How a promise unkept. like the waves of 'defeat. Has quenched the best feelings that glow I 15 We should see how the flowers of youth's brighter morn By a treacherouH hand have been crushed, How the music once sweet, by a whisper of scorn, 'Mid the wjuIs of despair has been hushed: \Vc should see liow a smile that was bri,f;ht as the day 'Neath a sneer oi contempt has grown pale, J low the light of her life has been robbed of it's ray By the breath of the merciless gale. So when we are tempted to censure again The ones who are given to moan, Let us think of the sorrow and deep hidden pain "Which they may be bearing alone ; As often the precious and shadowless gem In place unexpected is found, So oft in the hearts of the cues we condemn The noblest impulses abound. OU! WHAT IS LIFE? What is this life when compared with the vast eternity to which we hasten ? Its sweetest music is lost atnid the /snbs of sorrow, while the brightest hopes of mortal porisli lik.^ the light of faded day. Oh ! what is life ? 'tis like the light That trembles on the sleeping wave ; For one brief hour it yields delight, Then gives its beauty to the grave. We paint with go' i the future sky, Without one sli.«de to dim its ray ; But e're it dawns the colors die. It breaks upon us cold and grey. The music that in childhood gushed From hearts that knew no throb of pain, Amid the angry strife is hushed, Nor can we wake the strams again. Ambition's fires within us burn. Like -wounded birds to soar on high ; But e're the goal they seek is won. They tumble, in the dust to lie. ^TBP^.ni^: >M 16 Oh I could we virtue have retained, We then might say this hfe were blest • But vice has quenched the light that flamed So brightly in our youthful breast. Backward we cast our longing eyes To hours when virtue reigned wichin ; We mourn for the departed prise, And wish to break the band? of sin. But, like a v^anderer on the deep, Wno seeks in vain to reach the shore, We for lost innocence may weep. But shall possess the gem no more. True goodness shall alone endure A-gainst the storms of vice and sin ; The hearts that iv this life are pure The after, lasting hfe shall win. I A DEFENCE OF B RITA IX. The following was written in replv to an insult to tli.' nation we love, a nation second to none among the kin- doms of earth : Speak not the word ! dost thou cease to remember How nations have trembled and shrank in aUrm ? ±iow each luckless foe who has dared to offend her Mas sought earch in vain for a refuge from liana ? JJost thou forget that from ocean to ocean. Wherever tne footstep of mortal c«n roam ^I ?,°-''^*^^ ^^^*^'^' ^^^^^ ^ ^h'""^ of emotion. t.an Britain their birthplace, their pride and their houu- ; Breathe not a sentence that tells of dishonor Lest vengeance should fall as the words ye rehearse • Nor cast the foul blot of a shadow upon her, Or link the proud name of our land with a curse • Stainless and pure as the sunlight of Heaven ' ■ That shines, in the strength of the Master secure, 1 hough each boasted stronghold asunder be riven Untarnished the light of her fame shall endure ' *'^^*^^^*^'^- ^1 ■ I "m r n rw^^"^^~ .^5)g*j 17 \n-th fiom the glom that surrounded her raorninj,', Like lightning that flashes from stcrin-riveu cloud. IShp burst frorn the bands of the foes who were scoriiiiiii, Wliile the hght of their glory is wrapped in the sliiuud : iVaiulv they strove in the pride of their power To hurl to destruction :he nation we lo^e, ;A 3trone. tc a brighter and cloudless to-morrow. Shall point through the gloom like a gem of the night ; Aud when in the morning all darknesiH is driven An unwelcome guest from eternity's shore. In shadowless splendor the fame cf our Britain Shall shine where the night can assail it no more*. EVENI^'G. The last faint tint of glowing light Is fading from the blushing sky f Dark sh. dows tell the approach of night O'er ail the earth: beneath, on high. The hues of purple and of gold That lent their beauty to the scene. Are losing, as the shades unfold. Their brightness, 'mid the durkling screen. The troubled waves have sank to rc•s^ Like infant weary with its play ; No tempest stirs the ocean's breast, No storm disturbs the closing day. %. le I'rom youder brightly j/iWed tow jr Is borne tlie sound of evening,' bells • The dyiufi of the twilight hour Is 8i},'ualled by their parting kuells. A peaceful silence reitrns supreuie, All nature sinks to sweet repose ; Ah over mountain, vale and streani The dark hued night her mantle thro'.v.^. It is an hour all still and calm, And ab I muse upon the shore, Sweet thoughts come to me like a balm Sweet thoughts of joys that are no more. And songs that long have ceased to eartli, And faces 1 no longer see, And loving hands and sounds of rairtli In fancy come again lo me. And smiles that were too bright to last ^ That lost their beauty in the gloom. ' Fall on me, as in moments past. E're blushing cheeks were robbed of blonm. Strange sweet emotions thrill my breast While thinking of departed years ; They break my spirit s trauquil rest. They dim mine eyes with falling teurs. TO AN INFaM. Dedicated to Delia May, infant daughter oi M iffnderson, Kincardine. Little voyager o'er life's ocean, Scarcely yet thou'st felt the motion Of those waves whose restless power We are breasting every hour. Thou Rs ye art near the shore. Hearing not the tempest roar ; Knowing naught but mother's love, Equalled but by that above. r. ■hiii.ii 19 jiinht without a shadow now Ri' ts its beauty on thy brow ; Light of innocence and truth, Kn( wn but to hours of youth. Oil I tliat thou mi;?ht'st ever stay Neath it's pure, unclouded ray ; Then should j<»y without a tear Mark thine every footstep here. Then should all thy sinless hours Know no si^u of withered floweifc ; Then indeed should life be blest, One unbroken scene of rest. But these hours must away, Childhood's charms too soon decay ; Thou must leave this peaceful home, O'er thi3 troubled waves to roam. Future days may stormy be, Sorrow rob thy life of «lee ; Friends prove false, and far depart. Anguish wrinj^ thy trusting heart. But though these should come to thee. Dark and cold life's journey be ; There is One Nvho'll never leave, Never for a moment grieve. There's a hand can safely guide. Safe convey thee o'er the tide ; Shield wl\en earthly ties are riven. Give for woe the joy? of heaven. Oh ! may He who dwells in light, Guard thee through each stormy night; Take theo, when this life is o'er. Where the tempest comes no more. WIUTTEX OX THE TOMBSTONE OF A FrJEXI'. Alay thy sleep be as sweet as my sorrow is bitter. Is a wish most sencere, of which none could be littt tms^K^ 20 'WHAT SHE MUST BE. It among the fair readers of this book there be onoi roasessing the qualities and graces mentioned in the fulj lowing, she is invited to correspond with the author, -with the view of plunging with hina into the sea of matrimonii | bliss. My love must be fair as a flower. With cheeks of the hue of the rose ; Her eyes bright as sun-lighted bower, Her brow like to wintry snows. Her lips must be red, like the cherry That blooms m such tempting array ; Her temperment gla'^somo and merry. Her smile like the sunshine ot day. Her l3eth, like the pearls of the ocean, Must glisten with splendor and shine ; Her form must be perfect in motion. Like some I have read of in rhyme. Her step must be bounding and sprightly. Like wild doe's that bounds o'er the plains ; Her voice dweet as songsters that nightly Cheer earth with their musical strains. Her hands must tender and gentle, To soothe me in sorrow and woe ; She must also be gifted in mental, The knowledge of sages must know. Her heart must be pure as the fountain That gushes ail sparkling and bright ; Her hair dark as shades of the mountain When daylight is swallowed in niuht. Her height must be just the right measure, She must not too short or too tali ; She at all times mugt wait my good pleasuro In all things— I guess that is all. iym^<^ »'^:.^^;ii; -m-^^T. 21 And when I can find sucli a beauty, Ko matter in what land or chnie. I shall leel it ray most sacred duty To endeavor to win her as mine. VRIITIXO. Tl.e foUowin,^ was written^nle walkin- on the shore -f Lake Huron, the lines being su-ested by the observance or a i.iece of drift-wood floating upon the water, rumindin;4 .t the dnfting and tossing on the sea of life. Drifting, aye drifting wherever we be ■ Drifting and tossing, like waves cf the sta , Drifting from time to etermty. ^ Drifting when morn chases darkness away. Drifting toward eve, to the close of the day ; Drifting to night where the aeep shadows lay. . Drifting the humble, the haughty, the proud, Drifting along in a hurrying crowd; Drifting to death, to the grave and a snr n.d. Drifting from scenes where wo fondly would stay. Drifting from earth and its pleasures away ; Drifting each moment, drifting each day. Dritting when spring with warm sunny showers Wakens to life the slumbering flowers ; Drifting through summer's long dreamy liouis. Driflinc the thoughtless, drifting the grave. Drifting the cowardly, drifting the brave ; Drilting, aye drifting, o'er life's restless wave. Drifting, ave drifting, with doubting and fearn, Drifting in laughter, drifting in tears ; Dritting away through the fast specumg years. Oh' mav we all, when life's drifting is o'er, Drift to 'yon harbor— the heavenly shore ; \Vi>-re we shaU rest from the storm evermore. 22 TIIE.LOSS OF THE EXVLOBER. The following is respectfully dedicated to Major Crane, .f Goderich, whose brother was a passenger on the lost vess*.!- also to Capt. Wood, of Loudon, whose sou vvas in coniniantl "f the same. The moriiing on which the Explorer left th • harbor at Goderich for the last time, was calm and bcrmiti- tul, and no one dreamed that soon she would sink :uii:l the angry waters. Out on the waters, all peaceful, they glide. Dreaming no liarm fiom the murmuring tide : Calm are the waves, as a babe on the breast Of her, wlu) in kindness, has lulled it to rest : IJright gleams the light from yon heaven above, Home of the spotless ones, dwelling in love ; N.) moannig billow, no shadovv of gloom. Whispers of danger, or tells of their doom. Gaily they speak as thpy bid us good bye, lianishmg inv each fcrboding and sigh ; Smile as we tell of the perils of the wave. Pointing to Him who from danger can save ; Onward, away from the harbor they move, Forms that are dearest and faces we love ; Hands wavin^z back, as they piss from tho shore. Kisses, from lips we shall press nevermore. Onward, and onward, a sorrcwless throng, Filling the moments with laughter and song ; Forth from our presence, like birds in their tliglit. Free as the waters that sparkle in light ; Hearts beating high with enjoyment and hope, Arms that are strong with the tempest to cope Why should they dream of disaster or harm ? Why omen of evil their spirits alarm ? Brave are their hearts, but a stronger than they Follows their course, like a wolf for its prey. In the bright morn, through the shadows of nii-'ht. Keeping the ship and his victims in sight : -tr; 28 Tlioufih of his i^iesenco uo sign they can trace, . Herwith a mark thao uo hand" can efface, Claima them his own, and but waits for the hou To harl to destruction with merciless power. II Over the storm troubled waters they fly, Danger beneath them, and darkness on high ; Angry and restlesF, the black billows foam, Filling their oars with a dismal moan ; (4one is^the sunlight that gladdened their hearts, liike a bright hope that in sorrow departs ; Tioudlv tlie voice of the pitiless blast Telis that the moments are numbering fast. Higher and hidier the wild waters leap, Nearer and nearer the last shadows creep ; Silent and giiostly the rock^, through the gloom Lighten the v/aves that encircle their tomb ; !;ra\°elv thev strove, U\t the struggle is o'er. Hands thev have clasped, from eternity's shore Beckon to re^t in the harbor above. To render unbroken the circle of love. Kind heaven help thein, their last hour has come ! Eves wildly starting, and tongues that are dumb, Hearts beating fast, and with quick coming breatli. One terrible moment they struggle with deatb. ; Then, with white faces upturned to the sky. Breathing a prayer to the Master on high. Thinking of loved 'one^*, they sink in the deep, Never on earth to rejoice or to weep. GOIXG DOWN, Kind friends, I would whisper a warning, Though perhaps it may cause you to frown, While no doubt my words you'll be scorning, But the fact is, we all must go down. We may read, we may write, we may splutter. We may win most extensive renown. But I teli you it will not much matter, For al last we shall have to go down. 24 We may dwell in a palace or hovel, In country, or city, or town, IJut we all must lin on the yame level VVlien at last we together fjo down. From the be^'ger who lies in the gutter. To the king who wears royalty's crown, Though thev view its cold gloom with a shudder, To the grave all must surely go down. Some go in the pureness of childhood, Like light from the morn of the day ; While some in the vigor of manhood Go down from our signt and away. Then don't toss your head my dear brotner, Or imagine your lot is the best ; For we're all going downward together, 'And you, sir, as sure as the rest. OF WHAT USE IS EARTHLY FAME.' Of what use is brightest fame To the source from whence it came, If that source, like yonder flame When tis needed not again. Is neglected ? If, like case of precious stone When the gem within has flown. And its use no more is known. From our presence far is thrown, And rejected. WRITTEN IN A YOUNG LADY S ALBUM. The foHowing was written in the album of a yeung ludj of whom the writer at one time lie. ' a very high Dpiuimii ])Ut who, by words uf unkindness, pr«n'eotion at '>;; 'JJ-^'V:! ,,,,„,„, allegiance to that dear od «;*-;j^tw ^'fron, l„v:-. loatca beneath a hoatile tanner, or »«" 'ow ^^ i,„ l.,ftv position by the hand of an enemy . IheJ ^ ,,ruai,.- L proudly waved from the ^f^l^^^L.. it ...nh ; and, upheld by strong "^^ "^^^^*Uhe nation, .,,,.11 still »oar above all other. untU the tta,s of t ^^^^ .,.,. fnrled forever, and tin>e shall be lost m eUr ,.,vo reason to be proud of "« '-ed nat»u L^ U ,,■ l,gl,t m the darkness the name of f '^ "s 4, and • ,nd clear through the dark ages -".eh she h»« Pa ^ ^^_^ in all the annals of history no name is "o ''^° ,„„,. stain of dishonor as that of the land we love. ^^^ stauneh ship Urat bravely ho^s her "^^ °;" * ^^ ^,,,„, tossed waters, pressing proudly on .n defian o^be »ad darkness, until she reaches the l-'^^ ° \^^,^ j„.. safety, so the nation of which we "f "^^^^^J^^l.^ment. , who sought to stay her progress or under her ad ,,as prossed steadily on ; and. "P'^''''* ,"'', ";, ^,, _„„d po- ,new no weakness, has gained that l-^^^^^^^^^Z seas, sitions, the first among the °f '°»';, '»? °"X j^ave trans- We love our noble Britain ; beneath »>=J 'fj ^^„ ,^,4^1, pired scenes that shall pass from ■»«>"°^!' ""'/"^ra^y, of Lurs shall cease. Upon her shore - Q^''^;^^; ,^^„ , obildbood, those hcirs "f iouocence wh h ever ^^ ^^^^^ sacred place within our ^^^f !i Oh V days of cloud- v,e would not lose for wealth of ;«'b. Oh . dajs ,.s, light, moments of '-''' ""^"'^^they h»- gone witb could we once more recall '^^'^'J'^'^'IZ^J^ but a _.,i. .„^ nought reraaiua of tlieir Drio"t ^.m^m^'^^^m: / 26 ii: ^nemory, wlucli lingers like the rayB of departeJ cUv , i ;n« their beauty Ion,, after the som-ce whkh ^av.^h' '" I'as vanished i„ the shades of nH.T t, '^^''''^T ''"' HI I e on this earthly sphere I^move A tbe>ne all worthy of my praise von thy shore the happ^ Z^s Of youth and innocence were nassed • Like a bright dream that could not J^st t hey vanished from my sight awav iJu , as the light of dyhig "day ^ ' Fills all the sky with crimson ray vll'^'T. ^''"^ "'^^^ 'os<> moments Hhino . ;pon hfe's pathway, and are m ne I, > cheer my heart in darkest liours • Mutt";r'^7 ''' ^'""''''''^ withered tiowcr. NVith.n my breast, and as I trace ihal7?ff '"'^ '^'"' ^^^« *"^ ^'^^•<^« of life ^hall soften woo, and nerve me for Vi. . r % murmuring stream, in'loa^ gU d " ^'"'^ \ •Vith fr ends now mctionless, U^o stn vr.l . iaughing mirth, while o'e • lifes w / he snnhght fell with clearest raV' And a8 I ^hink of smiles all lr"ht' hat lost thdr beauty in the n fe I l>at pvesH^d my cheek, us liues of guM I re able upon the waters ere thev pa t ^o tremble sweet emotions in mv-heart' £1-1 ,..f -cenes fiuin which sweet meiiioj i fl« I IM 27 For this I love thee, aud would sournl TIiv praise to listeuiu^ nations 'round. Like ftallaut ship that holds her way 'Mid howling storm and blindinj^ spray, Thou'st braved the tempest and the night. And strusuled to tlio glorious light Of liberty ; from every foe who sought to stay 'I'hv progress, thou hast burst away ; And, as a spirit upward flies To its true home beyond the skies. So thou, from 'midst tliine early gloom, Hast risen to a glorious noon. On thy green shore no stain is seen, Xo blot upon thine honored name Its shadow throws, to mar tlio scene, Or dim the splendor of thy fame ; Like eagles bold, that soar on high, That all their meaner foes defy, So thy red flag, the flag I love, , Each other emblem floats above, And hurls defiance at each foe Who would seek thy greatness to oerthrow. God bless thee ! Britain ^ long may thou Earth's greatest nation be as now ; And only may thy glittering crown From lofty height be loArered down When Queen and subjects se.y farewell To earth, in fairer worlds to dwell. Tin: LoyooN flood, isss. All will renijmbor the disastrous flood wbicli recent iy Kisi^^'xl London, causing much de'-itruction to property, and by which not a few of her citizens lost their lives. The • lay precoeding the fatal night was dark and rainy, l>ut no I one thought of the terrible scane so soon to bo enacted, or dreamed that e're the morning light should gild the eaet- « ni sky, many homes would mourn the death of loved onth, many heads be bowed in sorrow. A robe, of gloom has fallen o'er the city s noiso and din. AiKlliomes of peace and happiness and haunts of stri?*' .Vjtind «in, 28 Each are enwrappcJ in silence deep, and hidden from ihn Hi{lht, Now rest bencHth tlie shadow and tlie HtiUnesa of Uut nijjhL AH day the rai:j iji torrents had d^'sconded from on hi}4h. All day had clouds ot sombre hue obscured the sumniei- sky ; Uut no one thought of lurking harm, and as the night came down. No eye dcscerned the darker sliade that gathered o'er the town. I'ut though there came no warning voice, no Bii:n of threatened ill, A foe, with swift but noiseless tread, draws near and nearer s^.ill ; A foe against whose deadly power all striving will be vain, And some who watched the light depart, shall see it not again. Oat on yon toaming currRut's breast, that rushes madh- by, Death rides toward our sleeping homes, and some this night must die ; Some lips that whispered soft good-night wl?n evening prayers were o'er, Sliall greet at morn with words of love, or press our own no more. Eeu now the river's sullen roar disturbs the solemn hush. While, from each band which held in sway, the angi waters gush ; They break upon the land of dreams, they seize their trembling prey, And forms we loved, amid the gloom pass from our • iew away. The morning breaks, but on the spot where late our dwellings stood. Naught now in seen but ruin's mark, and ravage of the flood ; The sv/ollen stream sweeps proudly on, unheeding in its scorn, " y •. The faces pale and mangled forms still on tin bosom hrirn*» 20 The babe that but last pve reclined upon its mother'n breH«;t. AVith smile of iunoceuce aud joy that shauied the glow ing west, . Now, like the dawn of morning gray, when Buramer hour- have fled, . Ill Its beauty in the darkness lost, lies motionless and dead. He who on yestor morn was Pcen all manly in his vviug Lies cold ajid silent as the child who perished by his While woman fair, whose blushing cheek had never palovl before. Has lost her loveliness in death, to wear it nevemiorc. Oh ' Londou, had some kindly hand protected from the f«'c. Then would some lives still throb with joy that now are filled with WOP ; , , , , , Then would some hearts, with wealth of love of value mort- than gold, Yet glow with its unclouded light, that now are still and cold. THE WOIIKISG GJIIL. How often have we heard the words, uttered in tones of scoru, by lips curled m a smile of co empt, ''only a ser- vant giri," as if honest labor were someii-iirg deserving of censure and ridici'ie. Wc have known ladies who wonUl for no consideration allow tlieiv servants to ait at the sam- table with themselves, fn- the simple reason that they bore the name of "servant." The ideh. of eating with a •' »er vant " is one from which they suriuk with abhorrence, anc. not for one moment could they entertain thoughts of doin<: anything that would so wound their pvido and sense ot superority, of which thoy posnesH so very large a sliare. They believe in teaching'- ser\ ants " tlieir true place, and iii forcing them +.0 keep such. But why. in the name of al' that is fair and honest, we would ask di) these high-mind- ed individuals imagiiio themselves to be so much better in every respect than the one tiiey call •• .-.trvant," when, try as they may, they cannot alter the fact that they both be- long by nature to the .«^Ame family. We have Knpv.-u si - ealled ladies who would sit until tlie last embers had died, rvther than soil their delicate hands by replenishihgrtlu; lira, or wh:>, althou^^h in cl ^s:- proximity thereto, would caT m tl'c servant from tli^ tlurl storey to aiinwer the door *bel!. Huch action desHrves, and receives the contempt of everv hone.^t, common sense porhon. So far as nature in concern- f(i, each mortal Htun tiud the things for which I look, Til be his truest friend forever, Till 1 am called across the river. THE OLD MAN^S LAMENT. \Vhil« nalkins o^^e d«v, the writer was met by an v]t ; \U I said, as 1 turned me with siglung away, ^ Whv must earth's bright glory so s.)on pass awav . The fritnds who were dear on the ocean of life. Who shared in the s.^rrows, and joined in the stnte, ]];tve '^ank "neath the billows, and left me alone. \nd their vcises are hushed 'mid its dismal moan : Oh « why did they leave me? why could they not stay . AVhy mast my loved tr.asnres so soon pass away ^ * Xffection s foud ties have been sundered and riven. Like forest oak rent by the thunders of heaven ; While the hopes that were mine, like the foam on the sfi- « , Have passed from my presence, to gladden no more : VII lonely I wait for the hour of release, l^,r the time when this life with its sorrow shall cease. A!» shadows of night chase the sunlight away When darkness is pressing the brow of the day, '^o the light of my life has cone out m the gloom O* a blackness that rivals the depth of the tomf) : .\ud ail that is left is the slirick of the blast, Or a vipion of fccncs that forever arc passed. 85 Hut away, far away o'er the ocean of life, Away from the billow, away from the strife. Away from the reach of the mad water's foam, Away from the shadows that darkened my home, Ther< s a place where ray loved ones forever shall stay, VVlu-re nau}»ht from ray presence can bear them away. 7 SA \V HER IX HER GIRLISH BLOOM. The following was written on hearing of the death of a yi)ung lady who, but a few short years ago, was oa,re]etH and happy, knowing naught but innocence and purity. T saw her in her girlish bloom, With sraile that shamed the light of day ; When not a whisper told of doom. When night and death sesraed far* away. JUest with kind friends, her life appeared A scene of pure, unclouded joy ; She knew no woe, no shadow feared, Nor foe life's sweetness to destroy. ller heart, like fountain pure atul bright. Gushed forth its joy with cheerful sound, While in its centre truth and right Au uuinvaded dwelling found. i heard to-day that she was dead. That far from home and friends she died : That life with all its charms had fled When no loved one was by her side. Cursed be the one who wrecked her life ! Cursed may he be on land or shore : May he be vanquished in the strife, And hurled to death forevermore. - EPITAPH ON CAPT. WEBB. lU've lies Capt. Webb, who was caught in a v.eb Which he wove in an hour of evil ; Ills last noted swim was a long one for him, For he swam all the way to the d 1. 88 Bo now he is dead, this great Capt. Wehb. ^ And to drown is no lonj^er in danger ; For now, I much fear, though it causes a tear. That water to him is a stranger. -» m •■ The following was a reply to ^ *s«efti«° *\*rm^''e'^euT.- • uureasonable, made by a young l%dy, on a ^arm eveuti.. in July : You say my love's unreasonable, That to forget thee I should try ; 1 think thy words unseasonable, Since they are cold when its July. WINE WILL RUIN. la the following the init^Iof the first word* wii: h. X .una to form the words of the headmg. When in the goblet the red wine is shinmg, If to imbibe it thy heart is inchnmg, \ever be tempted its sweetness to try, Kvery red drop holds a tear and a m'M- Where are thy friend., who in life's early mo n: fndnl«ed in the cup. every warumg did scorn Low in the graveyJ^va-^one "mnhood and^ruie- Low as the brate did they sink e're they died. Ruin and danger are hid in the wine. Use it not then, lent this ruin be thme ; In ail life's journev thou'lt find this is true- Never touch wine, and it cannot harm you, TO R BAIRD, ESQ. May you stay here till not a tear Shall at the parting flow ; Till not a mortal, far or netu'. Remains to see you go. TO J. A. MACPUERSON, J^^S'l Like light that encircles the mountain, Or gladdens the breast of the wave. ^«,, n^uf from affection's deep fountain niuraine'thy path to the grave. 87 TO L. RIGUTMYER, K'SiJ. May thee aud thiue be free frorr. fault, And perfect as tliy matchless suit ; Is* tlie best g^od I can desire Tor thine and thee, my dear Rightmyer. TO J. BARKER, ESQ. Unlike a sleep-disturbing barker, W'ith growl more teinble than its bite. Mav you, with teeth of justice, Barker, I'orce every sinner to do right. TO GEO. STURGEON, ESQ. Like the good fish of similar name Mav you obtain undying tame ; ^ r.ut 'tis the hope of your well-wisher That you may ne'er be caught by Fisher. TO GEO. SWAS, ESQ. »■ ■!■■ ■ C Ah yonder happy, sinless swan Floats gracelally adown the river, St» may you cross life's ocean, Swan, A.nd*ever have a healthy liver. . ,- TO J, P, WRIEHZESQ. T fear to write of Mr. Wright A word in either prose or song ; For, as hf'" altogether Wright, All 1 can say must sure be 'vrong. TO MfSS L. ■C. Sweet girl, forever on my heart Must thy dear nai^e engraven be ; Never from memory can depart The thoughts that bind my soul to thee. Kn litjhtning from yon riven cloud Illumes the blackness of t' -^ night, I 38 So liplit from lost affection's shroul Stiil sliines with radiance clear and bright. Oil ! could I ever near bave stayed To chee alone, the j:?ooa, the true, •* - To sinful paths I had not strayed, Nor marred the scene so fair to vicv. (.'ould I upon ''^ch trcf-cherous spot Have been by thy dear presence blest, 'J'ljen had the tempter vexed mo not, Nor passion's tires have torn my breast. lUit why lament what could not be ? Or \vljy repine with useless moan? Virtue and happiness for thee — For me, the stin<4 of vice alone. Hut if .11 tliat pure heart of thine One tliou^ht of nie may linger still, lorget the sins that now are mine. And tliink of me as 1 have been. (fJI I WH y SHG ULl) ] LIVE ? ^ Sui^^'ested by hearing a young man remark tliat lilts ^n;^htest hours had been squandered, and that tiau;,'lit: tr- iiiwined to make him desire to live longer in a \\in}>l if 'lisappointment and misery. < )li I why should I live, when the sky of the morrow Is clouded with shadows as black as to-day ? When life's brightest liopes on the pinions of sorrow Have taken their flight from my presence away ? Oh I why should I live, where the sunlight of heaven Hut deepens the gloom that has shadowed my life? W liile earth's fondest prospectii asunder are riven, And scattered lik« leaves by the pitiless strife .' All. all is away, but the tires of regretting. Which linger and burn in my sin-tortured breast ; In vain, all in vain, do I strive by forgetting, To tind for my spirit a moment of rest. IT a of m I liave sou^'bt for relief in the revel of pleasure, The boaHted delights that are found in the bowl 1 have tasted, to purchase a moment of leasure From memory's whispers, that sadden my soul. With beauty and love I have squandered the hours Of midnight and morn in the circle of sin ; 15ut vain were their r^harms, and all useless their powers To stiifle the llames that were raging within. Alone in the grave, where no memories returning, Can trouble and vex with a dream of the past, \\here flames of regretting no longer are burnmg, This earth-weary heart shall tind resting' at last. TJU-: (JODEniClI SQUAliE. The Goderich Square is, in some. respects, a place of the Mjost curious description. On the Souare you will iiietX {•ersons who are far from being " square," others who :ue not '• all there," a id in fact, all sorts of people may b'- seen on this Sqi a e of which we speak. Have you ever been on the Goderich Square ? There you will meet the young and the fair ; .The big and the little, the tall and the spare, Will greet your view as you wulk on the Square. Ladies and gents with never a care. Thoughtless and gay, with no burden to bear ; Beauty and grace with which none can compare, Will gladden your eyes as you walk on the Square. The neat little dandy, (the same as elsewhere) From his elegant glasses will give you a stare ; While the conceited " snob,' who is scarcely "all thero, ' Will turn up bis nose as you meet on the Squa)e. Fair blushing faces, and bright laughing eyes, Will cause in your bosom emotions to rise ; And e're you depart, you'll be forced to declare That your heart was made captive on Goderich Squuro. The humble, tire haughty, the good and the bad. The handsome and ugly, the jolly and sad: 40 All shades of complexion, all color of hair. Will rivet your gaza as you walk on the Sauare. And now I have told you about all I know Of the Square, but advise you if ever you go To Goderich town, be it rainy or fair. Take a walk on the much noted Goderich Square. TO MISS 'm.- — D. In reply to a letter, in which the young lady expreH>*e.l hope that she would not be forgotten by the auilior. Forget thee ! no, my darling, no. The thought would fill my heart with woo ; - Not till yon sun shall cease to glow Can I forget the bliss I know When with thy presence I am blest, When with thy head upon this breast. We for one moment ceace to live Buc in the heaven that love can give. When light that fills yon blushing skies Forgets the source which gave it rise, Or waters of the gushing stream Ignore the source from which they sirring, Then may my heart prove false and cold, As night that robs the sky of gold ; But, by thyself, whom I adore I swear I'll not forget before. ' 'To any one who thinks my yerses are old, T would hjiv : You think my verses are quiet old, Like ginger-bread and honey ; If this be true, then you are '' sold," And I have got your money. I cannot imagine how a Blackwell can be a white man, fw everyone knows that A black welh means a hoalthy ItUtck, Or, if we turn and say it back, A wsfW hUick means the very same, A Hack whose neither sick or lame ; And, for my life I cannot tell. How vou'can havr a white black wdl. 41 THE VICTORIA DISASTEll. It was a brijiht inoniiug on the *24th of May, 1880. Far and near over our fair Canada the sunlight lay like a mantle of untarnibhed gold, with no shadow to dim its brijihtness, no gloom to marr the beauty of che scene. The morn was fair, ou land or wave No cloud wuH seen, no hhadow fell ; No whispered warning came to save, Or of the connng fate fortell. It was indeed one of nature's fairest mornings— a mornijg of cloudless skies, and of singing birds — a t.rae on which it Were impossible to be otherwise than cheerful and happy. But as the sky of evening is flooded with colors the most beautiful just ere shadows of night fall hke a vail of sombre hue over the darkening landscape, so the beauty of that peerless morning was to be followed by a shadow that should long rest on homes upon which it would fall. It was the birthday of our Queen — A queen the noblest of the earth — And far and near, 'mid festive scene, Was heard tlie sound of happy mirth. Flags floated proudly from every masthead in honor of the birthday of Her Majesty, the Sovereign of England— a overeign who, while bearing hciself with true queenly dignity, still retains true womanly grace and virtue, which is far better. r,v flowing stream, in city's street, (Had hearts that knew no throb of pain Burst forth in song, while weary feet In fancy walked in youth again. It was a time of enjoyment, without a throb of sorrow, and on all sides, and among all classes, happiness feigned supreme. To grace the sparkling river's breast, I'hat flowed in solemn grandeur by, London gave forth her loved and best, Nor dreamed that they so soon would die. From her dock at Ijondon the steamer Victoi.ci went forth upon the smiling waters of the Thames, having on board a large excursion party, who determined to banish for a time fall thoughts of sorrow, and spend the day in the Dur- suit of pleasure. No one thought ofcoming harm 4'i waa the last Aud as they took the i.ailiiiti hand They bcarcely stayed to Hay farewell ; For would they not return to land E're chimed" at eve the latest bell? But thou<.'h they knew it not, the parting though they saw it not, the shadow of death hovered over the glistening river, and waited to enfold them in its dark embrace. But they siw only the sunlight, So with briiiht smiles they passed from view Of friends who lingered on the shore ; "With words of cheer the brave and true Went forth from home to come no more. Gaily the good ship sped along. Her banners quivering in the wind, While ou her deck a joyous thronti Left care and sorrow far behind. No {'.loom obscured the blue above. Or dimmed the rays that Hashed below ; And how could light and health and love One thought of coming danner know? We all know the terrible ending of this scene which Its commencement was und-ukened by a shadow. We know how on that fatal liith of May death walked through everv street ^^f London, and left a shadow that lingers still' upon many homes within that unfortunate city. We all know that as the moon rose on the evening of that well-remberod day, its rays tell upon a scene of sorrow and woe such as had never before been witnessed within our fair Dominion. Why dwell upon it ? Why speak of that which even yet causes us to shudder and turn pale, as only the recollection of something awful could do ? Why tell of the pale faces which on the evening of that day looked even more more ghastly in the bright moonlight, or of the silent forms which lay upon the banks of that gleaming river ? There was the infant, torn from its mo- diers bosom ere yet its young life had been darkened by ti shadow of sin, a sir'le still plying upon its lifeless fea- tures ; there was the youth whoso bright dream of future days had been rudely broken, whil the old and friendless, who met death not with dread or fear, but as a messengar of mercy, lay calm and peaceful, free from earthly care— alleeping the sleep of the weary of a life the charms of which had perished with tho long ->parted days of youth at all 43 .iml luippi'^eas. We shall speak no lonj,'er terriblo day— a day which must ever remaiu meinorv of each citizen A Loudon aa a time which it is hoped may not again be repeated of this nioHt fresh in tlie of mournin;<. EARTH'S FADING SCENES. Tho fairest flowers of earth that sweetly bloom, 'i'hat blossom 'neath the mellow sunbeams bnjiht, Must shortly fade and hasten to their doom. Stricken beneath the winter's chilly blight. Tor one brief season 'mid earth's sunny bowers With brightest hues their shining leaves unfold; I'.ut. swift as fades the light of summer hours, They droop, and lose their glorious tints of gold. The clearest morn, the most unclouded noon. The sun that shines with brightest, steadiest ray, Must sink into the silent, dismal gloom Of night, when darkness closes o'er the day. Thus every scene of life flies swiftly by, We strive in vain our joys from death to save ; Tlie sprightliest form, the most unflinching eye, Must dim and moulder in the silent grave. Uut shall these flowe.'s ne'er wake to life again ? \nd must they sleep in death forever more . Will not thoir crimso^i glory deck the plain With beanty and with fragrance as before / Or must these shades of evening always last ? This murkv darkness evermore hold sway / Will ni'^ht's dread reign of silence ne'er be past. Or break before the cheerful light of day / Oh ! yes, these shades of night will soon be o'er, The sun's bright ravs will burst the baud of night ; These flowers shall bloom and blossonl as of yore. Though now they droop beneath the monsters blight. The gladsome &.ring will wake again the flowers- That now are sleeping in the silent tomb ; The rising morn will bring the sunny hours. And chase the shadows from the night of gloom. 44 Y OU CAX'T €11 A IX LOVE. You can't chain love, kh well nii^^ht try To fix the lif^ht that sildH the sky, ^Vhich wanders, when the day is o'er, To Beek a more congenial shore. So, when no longer it descries The fancied charms which f^ave it rise. Scorning all promise to be true, Love flies to scenes more fair to view. 1 hoar some say true lovo will last, Will brighter glow as time flies past ; The sense of this I I'.anuot see, Nor with the words can I agree. I've loved of blushing maids a score- That many, and perhaps some more — JJut must confess I nevur yet Have met one I could not forget. T.ove knows no wrong, it cannot see One sin, though many there may be: In hiding thus all fault from sight. Love proves itself as far from right. Love is as fickle as the ain To-day its here, to-morrow there; And, since vou ne'er know where to tind it, Take good aivice, and never mind it. The strangest man lives in our town That ever yet was seen ; For, though he's altogether Brotnu He's also very gnm. To make a change in vam he tries Some method to discover ; Nature decrees that till he dies The yivv" this Bronii shall cover. 45 IX MEMMOniUM. On the (leatli of David and \Ionzo, sons of David Fislit-r, Msq., Goderich, Ont., aged 7 and 14 vearH. Quietly HleeD tho forms we cherished In tho t^ra\3 all cold and drear; Like eartii's fairest flowers they perished. Nevermore to meet us liere. Doomed to die in life's plpd morning. Sickness? stole their youthful bloom ; Death our feeble efforts sc .ning, Swiftly bore them to the tomb. .Just e're youth's bright days were numbered, K're was passed life's early dream, , Quickly as earth's joys are sundered. Death's dark shadow closed the scene. Soon the eyes t'-at beamed with brigntncss l^imnjed bene»ch grim monster's blight, While the sunny smiles of gladness Faded in the shades of night. Yes. they've gone, but though we sorrow 'I hat we meet them here no more, When shall dawn that cloudless morrow We shall meet them on that shore. On that shore where all is gladness, Where there falls ho parting tear ; Where no cloud of grief or sadness Marrs the brightness of the year. May we pray that grace be given, Grace to meet our every care, That through it we may in heaven Meet our lost and loved ones there. WALKIXG WITH THE ONE WHOM I J.OVi:, When I'm walking with the one whom I Jove, On the mountain, by the stream, or 'neath the grove, No matter where it be, thera is joy alone for me. When I'm walking with the one whom I love. 46 'iMw.n^h it be amid the shadowfl of the lught. When I'm walking? w=th the oue whom I bvc. Tliere'H a story which is hke the shiuing goM, 'ah I'm walking with the oue whom I love. V ., mnv talk of all the pleasures of the ea^h. IvueurL walking with the one wh.m I love. TO- Oh ! for one kiss from lips of thine Which oft in love wer^ pressed to mine , E'te hatred, with its cuised power, Deslroyed the sweetness of an hour. Oh ! but to clasn thy hanas once more. As oft ,'ith irk for th(! Master has been called so quickly from tlu- 1 .title fifid, wo do not know. We only know that the voio«' of our frieiid is hushed forever, that his hands have fiiiinlnNl rhiMf work, and are at rest. P*oldod thy hands, life's labors are enlsd, Finished each work of devotion and love ; Now thy dear voice that with ours ot't blended, Joins in the chorus of an.«els above. Soon as the clouds overcast the fair morning* Hiding its brightness in shadow and gloom, So death's dark shade, our fond efforts scorning, Shrouded thy life's sky, while yet it was noon. Hushed is the sound of earth's wild commotion, Ended each storm, every tumult is o'er ; Sately thou'st crossed o'er life's troubled ocean, Anchored thy bark where storms arr ao more. Earth's wildest stornif* no longer can harm thoe. Death and disaster shall seek thee in vain ; Christ's lovinfc arms are around and about thee, Safe on Hia breast thou shalt't ever remain. No more thou'lt suffer the pain and the angui-.ih. Sin and temptation shall vex thoe no naore; No more thy spirit in sorrow shall languish, Bickness and sorrow forever are o'er. Oh ! may our Father, our Father in Heaven, Teniierly guide in His mercy and love. Till we at last, through tte|i^race Ho hath given. Meet in yon cloudless rialm above. OS 48 THERE IS A GOD. There is a God I He paints the skieg With colors He alone could trace ; Which, till He bid the shades arise, No hand their beauty can etface, There ia a God 1 There ia a God 1 each modest flower With blu»hin<» face proclainciS His love . Thoy flourish through the stormy hour. Protected by the power above, The Power of God. There ' . a God ! the flowing brook Hath music which is not its own ; 'Tis borrowed from a nobler book Than earth or mortals e'er hath known. The Book of God. There is a God 1 the rays that shine, That gild the bosom of the wave. Are emblems of the Light Diviiie That cheers man's pathway to the gravo, The Light of God. There is a God ! the mighty deep Which rolls its v/aves from shore to In wildest storm or calmest sleep, KohocH the sentence oer and o'er. There is a God 1 hht'r«' There is a God ! the stars that glow More bnehl^ly wlu-n the shades ar unfurled to the nky ; y 50 !'ftr*re came not a sij»n that thoy hoou ^ould be riveit, And hurled from their height 'netith the wat«is to lie. The terapeBt deacended with mercilesn power, It Itidhbd iu its anger the Alumberin^ deep ; That proud ship was torn lilio storm-Hhattered flower. Xor beauty n.M* str<^H<{th from disaHtor coii'd keep, 80 proBpects of mortnlK, all Vjrij(lit in tlu^ nn»rtiju«;. Like colore of ttunset f^o out in the' .i^Ioofu ; Though manhood in piido its dark jihtH!ows hio sto 1 ii .i ^fo pride can secure from the deptli of tie k nit». % Kind frioud, if over you incline To look within this book of njiuo, I hope that BOtnethinjj vou will hi).! To please tho eye or suit the mind ; Kut. if yon nothiu^j oau discover, Just drop the book, and close the cover.