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The angel took a sapphire pen

And wrote in rainbow dow,
“The man would be a boy again,

And be a husband, too ! ".

dane.

“And is there nothing yot unsaid

Before the change appears ?
Remember, all their gifts have fled

With those dissolving years !"

You hear that boy laughing ? — You think he's

all fun; But the angels laugh, too, at the good he has

done; The children laugh loud as they troop to his call, And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest

of all ! Yes, we're boys, — always playing with tongu:

or with pen; And I sometimes have asked, Shall we ever be

men ? Shall we always be youthful, and laughing, ani

gay, Till the last dear companion drop smiling away Then here's to our boyhood, its gold and it

gray ! The stars of its winter, the dews of its May ! And when we have done with our life-lasting

toys, Dear Father, take care of thy children, Tu Boys.

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

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THE OLD MAN DREAMS.
O FOR one hour of youthful joy !

Give back my twentieth spring !
I'd rather laugh a bright-haired boy

Than reign a gray-beard king!

Off with the spoils of wrinkled age !

Away with learning's crown !
Tear out life's wisdom-written page,

And dash its trophies down !

WHITTLING.

A "NATIONAL PORTRAIT."
The Yankee boy, before he's sent to school,
Well knows the mysteries of that magic tool,
The pocket-knife. To that his wistful eye
Turns, while he hears his mother's lullaby ;
His hoarded cents he gladly gives to get it,
Then leaves no stone unturned till he can whet it;
And in the education of the lad
No little part that implement hath had.
His pocket-knife to the young whittler brings
A growing knowledge of material things.

One moment let my life-blood stream

From boyhood's fount of flame! Give me one giddy, reeling dream

Of life all love and fame!

My listening angel heard the prayer,

And, calmly smiling, said,
“If I but touch thy silvered hair,

Thy hasty wish hath sped.

“But is there nothing in thy track

To bid thee fondly stay,
While the swift seasons hurry back

To find the wished-for day ?"

Projectiles, music, and the sculptor's art,
His chestnut whistle and his shingle dart,
His elder popgun with its hickory rod,
Its sharp explosion and rehounding wad,
His cornstalk fiddle, and the deeper tone
That murmurs from his pumpkin-stalk trombone,
Conspire to teach the boy. To these succeed
His bow, his arrow of a feathered seed,
His windmill, raised the passing breeze to win,

His water-wheel, that turns upon a pin ;
1 Or, if his father lives upon the shore,

You 'll see his ship, “bean ends upon the floor,"
Full rigged with raking masts, and timberg

stanch,
. | And waiting near the wash-tub for a launch.

Ah! truest soul of womankind !

Without thee what were life?
One bliss I cannot leave behind :

I'll take – my- precious — wife!

Thus by his genius and his jack-knife driven,
Erelong he 'll solve you any problem given ;
Make any gimcrack musical or inute,
A plough, a couch, an organ or a flute;
Make you a locomotive or a clock,
Cat o canal, or build a floating-dock,
Or lend forth Beauty from a marble block; –
Make anything in short, for sen or shore,
From a child's rattle to a seventy-four ; -
Make it, said I ? - Ay, when be undertakes it,
He 'U inake the thing and the machine that

makes it.

Gentleman in black,

In a fit of blues ; Gentleman in claret,

Sober as a vicar ; Gentleman in tweed,

Dreadfully in liquor !

Stranger on the right

Looking very sunny, Obviously reading

Something rather funny. Now the smiles are thicker,

Wonder what they mean ! Faith, he's got the Knicker

Bocker Magazine !

And when the thing is made, – whether it be
To niove on earth, in air, or on the sea ;
Whether on water, o'er the waves to glide,
Or upon land to roll, revolve, or slide ;
Whether to wbirl or jar, to strike or ring,
Whether it be a piston or a spring,
Wheel, pulley, tube sonorous, wood or brass,
The thing designed shall surely come to pass ;
for, when his hand's upon it, you may know
That there's go in it, and he'll make it go.

JOHN PIERPONT.

Stranger on the left

Closing up his peepers ; Now he snores amain,

Like the Seven Sleepers ; At his feet a volume · Gives the explanation, How the man grew stupid

From “ Association " !

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Whizzing through the mountains,

Buzzing o'er the vale, -
Bless me! this is pleasant,
Riding on the rail !

JOHN GODFREY SAXE.

| In all quarters of Paris, and to every store,
While McFlimsey in vain stormed, scolded, an

swore,
They footed the streets, and he footed the bills,

JOHN GODFREY SAXE.

.

The last trip, their goods shipped by the steamer

Arago,

Formed, McFlimsey declares, the bulk of h.” WOMAN'S WILL.

cargo, AN EPIGRAM.

Not to mention a quantity kept from the rest,

Sufficient to fill the largest-sized chest, Mex, dying, make their wills, but wives

Which did not appear on the ship's manifest, Escape a work so sad ;

But for which the ladies themselves manifested Why should they make what all their lives

Such particular interest, that they invested
The gentle dames have had ?

Their own proper persons in layers and rows
Of muslins, embroideries, workedunder-clothes,
Gloves, handkerchiefs, scarfs, and such trifles as

those ;

Then, wrapped in great shawls, like Circassian “NOTHING TO WEAR.”

beauties,

Gave good-by to the ship, and go-by to the duties. Miss Flora McFlimsey, of Madison Square, Her relations at home all marvelled, no doubt, Has made three separate journeys to Paris, | Miss Flora had grown so enormously stout And her father assures me, each time she was for an actual belle and a possible bride ; there,

But the miracle ceased when she turned inside That she and her friend Mrs. Harris

out, (Not the lady whose name is so famous in his. And the truth came to light, and the dry-goods tory,

beside, But plain Mrs. H., without romance or mystery) Which, in spite of collector and custom-house Spent six consecutive weeks without stopping

sentry, In one continuous round o. shopping,

Had entered the port without any entry. Shopping alone, and shopping together,

And yet, though scarce three months have passed At all hours of the day, and in all sorts of since the day weather,

This inerchandise went, on twelve carts, up For all manner of things that a woman can put Broadway, On the crown of her head or the sole of her foot, This same Miss McFlimsey, of Madison Square, Or wrap round her shoulders, or fit round her The last time we met was in utter despair, waist,

Because she had nothing whatever to wear! Or that can be sewed on, or pinned on, or laced, Or tied on with a string, or stitched on with a NOTHING TO WEAR! Now, as this is a true ditty,

I do not assert -- this, you know, is between In front or behind, above or below;

us — For bonnets, mantillas, capes, collars, and shawls; That she's in a state of absolute nudity, Dresses for breakfasts and dinners and balls ; Like Powers Greek Slave, or the Medici Venus; Dresses to sit in and stand in and walk in ; But I do mean to say, I have heard her declare, Dresses to dance in and flirt in and talk in ; When, at the same moment, she had on a dress Dresses in which to do nothing at all ;

Which cost five hundred dollars, and not a cent Dresses for winter, spring, summer, and fall ;

less, All of them different in color and pattern,

And jewelry worth ten times more, I should Silk, muslin, and lace, crape, velvet, and satin,

guess, Brocade, and broadcloth, and other material, That she had not a thing in the wide world to Quite as expensive and much inore ethereal ;

wear ! In short, for all things that could ever be thought I should mention just here, that out of Miss of,

Flora's Or milliner, modiste, or tradesmen be bought of, Two hundred and fifty or sixty adorers, From ten-thousand-francs robes to twenty. I had just been selected as he who should throw all ogs frills ;

| The rest in the shade, by the gracious bestowal

bow,

speak,

far,

On myself, after twenty or thirty rejections, She turned as I entered, — "Why, Harry, you Of those fossil remains which she called her sinner, "affections,"

I thought that you went to the Flashers' to din. And that rather decayed, but well-known work ner!” of art,

“So I did,” I replied ; “but the dinner is swal. Which Miss Flora persisted in styling “her lowed beart."

And digested, I trust, for 't is now nine and So we were engaged. Our troth had been plighted, more, Not by moonbeam or starbean, by fountain or So being relieved from that duty, I followed grove,

Inclination, which led me, you see, to your But in a front parlor, most brilliantly lighted, door; Beneath the gas-fixtures we whispered our love, And now will your ladyship so condescend Without any romance or raptures or sighs, As just to inform me if you intend Without any tears in Miss Flora's blue eyes, Your beauty and graces and presence to lend Or blushes, or transports, or such silly actions, (All of which, when I own, I hope no one will It was one of the quietest business transactions, borrow) With a very small sprinkling of sentiment, if any, To the Stuckups, whose party, you know, is toAnd a very large diamond imported by Tiffany.. morrow?" On her virginal lips while I printed a kiss, She exclaimed, as a sort of parenthesis,

The fair Flora looked up with a pitiful air, And by way of putting me quite at my ease, 'And answered quite promptly, “ Why, Harry “You know, I'm to polka as much as I please,

mon cher, And Hirt when I like, — now, stop, don't you I should like above all things to go with you

there ; And you must not come here more than twice in 'But really and truly -- I've nothing to wear." the week,

“Nothing to wear! go just as you are ; Or talk to me either at party or ball,

Wear the dress you have on, and you 'll be by But always be ready to come when I call; So don't prose to me about duty and stuff,

I engage, the most bright and particular star If we don't break this off, there will be time On the Stuckup horizon" - I stopped -- for enough

her eye, For that sort of thing ; but the bargain must be Notwithstanding this delicate onset of flattery. that, as long as I choose, I am perfectly free, Opened on me at once a most terrible battery For this is a sort of engagement, you see,

Of scorn and amazeinent. She made no reply, Which is binding on you but not binding on me." But gave a slight turn to the end of her nose

(That pure Grecian feature), as much as to say, Well, having thus wooed Miss McFlimsey and “How absurd that any sane man should suppose gained her,

That a lady would go to a ball in the clothes, With the silks, crinolines, and hoops that con- No matter how fine, that she wears every day!"

tained her, I had, as I thought, a contingent remainder So I ventured again : “Wear your crimson broAt least in the property, and the best right I cade" To appear as its escort by day and by night; (Second turn-up of nose) — “That's too dark by And it being the week of the Stuckups' grand a shade.” ball, –

"Your blue silk”- “That's too heavy.” “Your Their cards had been out a fortnight or so, I pink"_“That's too light.”

And set all the Avenue on the tiptoe, - “Wear tulle over satin ” — "I can't endure I considered it only my duty to call,

white." And see if Miss Flora intended to go. "Your rose-colored, then, the best of the I found her, ---- as ladies are apt to be found,

batch" When the time intervening between the first “I have n't a thread of point lace to match.” sound

“Your brown moire antique" — “Yes, and look Of the bell and the visitor's entry is shorter

like a Quaker.” Than usual, - I found - I won't say, I caught “The pearl-colored ” — “I would, but that her,

plaguy dressmaker Intent on the pier-glass, undoubtedly meaning Has had it a week.” “Then that exquisite lilac To see if perhaps it did n't need cleaning. In which you would melt the heart of a Shylock," (Here the nose took again the same elevation) – But this only proved as a spark to the powder, “I would n't wear that for the whole of creation." And the storm I had raised came faster and “Why not? It's my fancy, there's nothing louder; could strike it

It blew and it rained, thundered, lightened, and As more comme il faut"_“Yes, but, dear me ! hailed that lean

Interjections, verbs, pronouns, till language quite Sophronia Stuckup has got one just like it, I failed And I won't appear dressed like a chit of sixteen." To express the abusive, and then its arrears Then that splendid purple, that sweet Maza Were brought up all at once by a torrent of tears, rine,

And my last faint, despairing attempt at an obs. That superb point d'aiguille, that imperial green, Ervation was lost in a tempest of sobs. That zephyr-like tarlatan, that rich grenadine"--| “Not one of all which is fit to be seen," Well, I felt for the lady, and felt for my hat, Said the lady, becoming excited and flushed.

too, “ Then wear," I exclaimed, in a tone which quite Improvised on the crown of the latter a tattoo, crushed

In lieu of expressing the feelings which lay Opposition, “that gorgeous toilette which you Quite too deep for words, as Wordsworth would sported

I say ; In Paris last spring, at the grand presentation, Then, without going through the form of a bow, When you quite turned the head of the head of Found myself in the entry I hardly knew the nation ;

how, And by all the grand court were so very much On doorstep and sidewalk, past lamp-post and courted."

square, The end of the nose was portentously tipped up, At home and up stairs, in my own easy-chair ; And both the bright eyes shot forth indignation, Poked my feet into slippers, my fire into blaze, As she burst upon me with the fierce exclamation, And said to myself, as I lit my cigar, “I have worn it three times at the least calcula- Supposing a man had the wealth of the Czar tion,

Of the Russias to boot, for the rest of his days, And that and most of my dresses are ripped On the whole, do you think he would have much up!"

to spare, Here I ripped out something, perhaps rather rash, If he narried a woman with nothing to wear ? Quite innocent, though ; but, to use an expression

Since that night, taking pains that it should not More striking than classic, it “settled my hash," And proved very soon the last act of our ses Abroad in society, I've instituted sion.

A course of inquiry, extensive and thorough, “Fiddlesticks, is it, sir? I wonder the ceiling On this vital subject, and find, to my horror, Does n't fall down and crush you - oh! you men That the fair Flora's case is by no means sur. have no feeling;

prising, You selfish, unnatural, illiberal creatures, | But that there exists the greatest distress Who set yourselves up as patterns and preachers, In our female community, solely arising Your silly pretence, — why, what a mere guess From this unsupplied destitution of dress, it is!

Whose unfortunate victims are filling the air Pray, what do you know of a woman's necessities? With the pitiful wail of “ Nothing to wear." I have told you and showed you I've nothing to Researches in some of the “Upper Ten" districts wear,

Reveal the most painful and startling statistics, And it's perfectly plain you not only don't care, of which let me mention only a few : But you do not believe me ” (here the nose went In one single house, on Fifth Avenue, still higher),

Three young ladies were found, all below twenty“I suppose, if you dared, you would call me a liar.

Who have been three whole weeks without any. Our engagement is ended, sir — yes, on the spot;

ended, sir - yes, on the spot; 1 thing new You 're a brute, and a monster, and - I don't In the way of flounced silks, and thus left in the know what.”

lurch I mildly suggested the words - Hottentot, Are unable to go to ball, concert, or church. Pick pocket, and cannibal, Tartar, and thief, In another large mansion, near the same place, As gentle expletives which might give relief; Was found a deplorable, heartrending case

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