The way is long, my child! but it shall be
Not one step longer than is best for thee;
And thou shalt know, at last, when thou shalt stand
Safe at the goal, how I did take thy hand,
And quick and straight

Lead to Heaven's gate
My child!

IV.

The path is rough, my Father! many a thorn
Has pierced me; and my weary feet, all torn
And bleeding, mark the way. Yet thy command
Bids me press forward. Father, take my hand;
Then, safe and blest,

Lead up to rest
Thy child!

The path is rough, my child! But oh! how sweet
Will be the rest, for weary pilgrims meet,

When thou shalt reach the borders of that land
To which I lead thee, as I take thy hand;
And safe and blest

With me shall rest
My child!

V.

The throng is great, my Father! many a doubt,
And fear, and danger, compass me about;
And foes oppress me sore. I cannot stand
Or go alone. O Father! take my hand,
And through the throng

Lead safe along

Thy child!

The throng is great, my child! But at thy side
Thy father walks; then be not terrified,

For I am with thee; will thy foes command
To let thee freely pass;-will take thy hand,
And through the throng

Lead safe along

My child!

VI.

The cross is heavy, Father! I have borne
It long, and still do bear it. Let my worn
And fainting spirit rise to that blest land

Where crowns are given. Father, take my hand;
And reaching down

Lead to the crown

Thy child!

The cross is heavy, child! Yet there was One
Who bore a heavier cross for thee; my Son,
My well-beloved. For him bear thine; and stand
With him at last; and from thy Father's hand,
Thy cross laid down,

Receive a crown,
My child!

HENRY N. COBB.

THE MINER'S DEATH.

[Simple description-pathos-impersonation.]

The sun was going down,

And its rays o'er the landscape wen

Standing upon an old tent

That stood, tattered and brown,

Half in the shade of a tree;

And in the distance you could see

Two miners coming from their toil, and talking
In low tones, while homeward walking.

Look! within the shelter lies a man

On a rude couch, beneath a blanket,

His suffering face desolate and wan;

There near him is the tin pan

Filled at morn with water; fevered, he drank it

Soon as his companions left, after rough comfort spoken,
For their toil. There lies his food all unbroken,

And the little flask of spirits close at hand;

And round about the canvas-shelter stand

Shovels and miner's boots, earth-worn and stained.
Stretched here, for weary days he had remained,

Weak from the fever, helpless as a child,

With naught to see without but rocky wild;

Within, these objects in his canvas-room.

The day was so long, would they never come?
And the vision of his distant, happy home

He saw when he closed his weary eyes,

From which the tears trickled down his thin cheek;

Oh, God! that I should leave dear ones, to seek

Here in these barren wilds the golden prize."

How his expectant, eager gaze ran o'er

The little space 'twixt his couch and the tent door.
"Will they never come!--the sun is going down,
And I am going too; 'tis terrible to die alone,
And no one here to take my message home;

It's getting darker, too,-footsteps! here they come,-
Oh, Tom, you're here at last; I had begun to sear
That you forgot;— -some water." Both come near.
"I'm going, boys! Carry this ring and curl,
To my Mary, Jack, and her little girl;

You'll do it? Thanks! Tom, good by."

"Cheer up, Joe; don't take on so, you mustn't die!"
"I must; but remember-these to Mary-your-word-keep.
It's getting dark-so tired,-yes-yes-I'll sleep.
Tom, I can't see, but feel your hand the same.'
The smile of peace, his poor, wan face o'ercame;
One deep, sad sigh;-he slept, indeed, that blest repose
That in this world no hour of waking knows.

JOHN HANOVER.

KATE KETCHEM.

[This parody on Maud Muller should be read in a tone of simple narration, avoiding a measured style. Impersonate wherever necessary.]

Kate Ketchem, on a winter's night,
Went to a party, dressed in white.

IIer chignon in a net of gold

Was about as large as they ever sold.

Gayly she went because her "pap"
Was supposed to be a rich old chap.

But when by chance her glances fell
On a friend who had lately married well,

Her spirits sunk, and a vague unrest
And a nameless longing filled her breast-

A wish she wouldn't have had made known,
To have an establishment of her own.

Tom Fudge came slowly through the throng,
With chestnut hair, worn pretty long.

He saw Ka'e Ketchem in the crowd,

And, knowing her slightly, stopped and bowed;

Then asked her to give him a single flower,
Saying he'd think it a priceless dower.

Out from those with which she was decked
She took the poorest she could select,

And blushed as she gave it, looking down
To call attention to her gown.

"Thanks," said Fudge, and he thought how dear Flowers must be at this time of year.

Then several charming remarks he made,
Asked if she sang, or danced, or played;

And being exhausted, inquired whether

She thought it was going to be pleasant weather.

And Kate displayed her jewelry,

And dropped her lashes becomingly;

And listened, with no attempt to disguise
The admiration in her eyes.

At last, like one who has nothing to say,
He turned around and walked away.

Kate Ketchem smiled, and said "You bet
I'll catch that Fudge and his money yet.

"He's rich enough to keep me in clothes,
And I think I could manage him as I chose.

"He could aid my father as well as not, And buy my brother a splendid yacht.

"My mother for money should never fret,
And all that it cried for the baby should get;

"And after that, with what he could spare, I'd make a show at a charity fair."

Tom Fudge looked back as he crossed the sill, And saw Kate Ketchem standing still.

"A girl more suited to my mind

It isn't an easy thing to find;

"And everything that she has to wear Proves her as rich as she is fair.

"Would she were mine, and that I to-day Had the old man's cash my debts to pay;

"No creditors with a long account,

No tradesmen waiting that little amount;'

"But all my scores paid up when due By a father-in-law as rich as a Jew!"

But he thought of her brother, not worth a straw, And her mother, that would be his, in law;

So, undecided, he walked along,

And Kate was left alone in the throng.

But a lawyer smiled, whom he sought by stealth, To ascertain old Ketchem's wealth;

And as for Kate, she schemed and planned
Till one of the dancers claimed her hand.

He married her for her father's cash-
She married him to cut a dash.

But as to paying his debts, do you know
The father couldn't see it so;

And at hints for help Kate's hazel eyes
Looked out in their innocent surprise.

And when Tom thought of the way he had wed, He longed for a single life instead,

And closed his eyes in a sulky mood,
Regretting the days of his bachelorhood;

And said in a sort of reckless vein, "I'd like to see her catch me again,

"If I were free as on that night

I saw Kate Ketchem dressed in white !"

She wedded him to be rich and gay;
But husband and children didn't pay.