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And so with many a spectral leap,
Like Thisbe running from the lion,
He left behind the forest deep,

And o'er the moonlit clearing passed,

And reached the widow's door- 'twas fast-
It seemed as though the fates were iron!
He called, but no one heard the shout;
He called again, then spun about,
And, as the bear was drawing nigh,
He soon a slender trellis found
That trained a vine the gables o'er;
And up this ladder swift did fly,
Right glad to leave the solid ground;
And ope'd the dormer window high,
And leaped upon the chamber floor;
While Bruin upward turned his eye,
Rose on his haunches, and, no doubt,
Thought the proceeding wondrous spry.

The guests were startled by a sound
A clatter overhead
a bound
A step upon the stair -a moan-
In stalked a figure quite unknown,
And, 'mid the astonishment profound,
Like Don Quixote, bowing low,
Its thin arms swaying to and fro,
Drew itself up and gazed around.

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The widow stared! Gasped he, "M'my d'dear!".
Said she, I pray, sir, who are you?"
Said he, "How d'dis'urbt you appear!
I've come to be your hus'and true!"

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"And where's your teeth and fair expression? And figure fine,

And every sign

Of your most dignified profession?

You surely ar'nt the man that courted!”
And her opinion was supported.

The village squire decided there
That 'twould be very hard to swear
This figure spare was Dr. Van Tromp;
And when were found the teeth and hair,
And other relics in the swamp,

The widow said

She'd never wed

The fragments left her by the bear.

HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH.

THE POLICEMAN'S STORY.

I AM a policeman, 12,004;

well,

Been on the force for years a score.
Lots of stories I have to tell,
Queer, sad, terrible, funny, and
I'll stop to tell you a little thing
That happened a year ago last Spring:
Weary, but watchful, I paced my beat,
Up and down thro' a well-known street,
When, a block away, I saw a throng,
And hastened to find out what was wrong.
And there I saw a wee, wee girl,
Dainty and pretty with hair in curl.

Weeping, her hands in air she tossed,
Crying, "Oh, mamma, oh, papa, I's lost!"
One moment she wept, another she smiled,
And I thought of my own pet darling child
At home, and safe in her mother's arms;
So I tried to quiet this one's alarms;
At first her sunny head I caressed,
Then lifted her up to my beating breast,
And carried her, sobbing, sweet little fay,
To the station-house, only two blocks away.
Captain Caffry was then in command;
He took the lost baby-girl by the hand,
And, sitting her up on the desk by his side,
Pleasantly talked till no longer she cried,
But dried up her tears, and soon, smiling and gay,
Was earnestly lisping and prattling away;

And told of her beautiful mamma, her joys,
Her big-bearded papa, her home, and her toys;
How she heard a wandering German band play,
And, listening, followed them on their way;

Stopped when they stopped, and crossed when they crossed,

Grew tired, cried for home, and then found she was lost.

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The door of the station-house opened just then,
Admitting a "drunk" between two of our men;
Not dirty and ragged, and spoiling for a fight,
But what you might term a respectable tight."
Led up to the desk, he just lifted his eyes;
Started back, nearly fell, with a cry of surprise,
Of terror, of shame: "My Grace! Can it be?"
The instant had made him as sober as she.

"My papa! dear papa!" They kissed and caressed,
Both weeping, as she nestled close to his breast,
"Quite a scene!" said the captain, his face in a glow;
"I think you've been punished enough. You may go!"
The father bowed low the little one smiled

And passed through the door in the care of his child.
Do you know that I feel that I made a great vow
Just then, against liquor, and 'tis unbroken now?

THE VETERANS.

As you all know, comrades especially, I was but one of those leaders who fought in the war. We are veterans, and our white hairs tell us that, our feelings tell us that, and as we look over the crowds here to-day, we old soldiers realize the fact, without being told, that our days of fighting are past; that our days of rest and peace from the gun are here, and that we should, every one of us, come together on all suitable occasions to press each other's hands and look back and around us; to look back and see if that for which we fought honestly and truly, that for which we left our dead comrades upon the bare pine-fields of the South-whether it remains secure to us and whether we may now sleep in rest and peace.

Every man, be he American, English, French, or German, was as much interested that America should be a free land to-day free from Maine to Texas and from Florida to Oregon as you who are living here in your homes in New Hampshire. We fought for mankind. We fought for all the earth and for all civilization, and now stand pre-eminent among the nations of the earth, with a glorious past, a magnificent present and future, at which we may all rejoice.

Anybody can fight with a stranger; anybody can shoot an Indian down, and it is not a very hard thing to pull the trigger on a foreigner, but when we came to shoot each other, when we had to go to fight these Southern friends of ours, and sometimes fight in our own streets, that called for nerve, and the highest kind of nerve; and that is what I want the citizen to bear in mind when he looks at soldiers in this country. They went out, fought and conquered, and when it was done they stopped and went home.

The war has passed and a new generation has grown up, young men capable of doing as much as those who fought. From the simple mechanic and farmer we can secure as capable men for putting on the blue and buckling on the cartridge-belt and taking a rifle, and if their hearts be in the right place and their heads ordinarily clear, they can go on the field and be as good men as Sheridan, Sherman, and Grant ever were. We have yet 50,000,000 such people in America, and the work is not done yet. I do not think there are any more civil wars before us, but we must be prepared for what God brings us and be true to ourselves, our country, and our God.

GENERAL SHERMAN.

HOW HE MADE IT.

ONE sweltering day in hot July
A beer saloon he wandered by;

And finding that he was not seen,
He entered at the swinging screen;

And to rebuke the drinking men
Whom he observed around him then.

He ordered, as he knew he'd ought-ter,
A glass of pure, clear crystal water.

He set it down. "Ah, ha!" said he,
"Cold water is the drink for me!

And so, to make it cold and nice,
He pounded in a little ice.

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Healthful and good, sliced very thin,
He dropped a little lemon in;

And then he said, "Sweets to the sweet!"
And stirred some sugar in the treat.

To kind of brace the mixture up
He dashed some bitters in the cup;
Then just a lee-tle whisky-well,
Say twenty lines of "nonpareil; "
And while he stirred it with a spoon,
He sang, in gleeful tones, the tune:

"Water, cold water, pure and free -
Water is the drink for me!"

He raised his head; loud, loud he laughed,
And to the dregs the goblet quaffed.

"This is the New Amendment plan,"
Remarked the temperate Iowa man.

Then set his course, and held that day
Due West his calm, imperial way.

SIGNING THE PLEDGE.

How are ye, boys? No, thank ye, Bill, nothing to drink to-day;

You look surprised to hear me say no drink; well, have

your way,

And fill it up, but let it set, for I've got a yarn to tell; You know when I've been drinking, boys, I can't talk nigh so well.

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