He felt that all was over; he knew his child was dead;
He took the candle in his hand and walked toward the bed;
His quivering lips gave token of the grief he'd fain conceal,
And see, his wife has joined him-the stricken couple kneel:
With hearts bowed down by sadness, they humbly ask of Him,
In heaven once more to meet again their own poor little Jim.

THE BELLS.

-[Excellent for vocal culture. The second line of each stanza is an index showing how it should be read. Be true to the spirit of the selection, and pay great attention to bringing out the full power of each word. Many repetitions in the piece have been omitted, believing that it would be of advantage to the general reader.]

Hear the sledges with the bells,
Silver bells!

What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time,

In a sort of Runic rhyme,

To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells,

From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!

What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night,
How they ring out their delight
From the molten golden notes,
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats

To the turtle dove, that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!

Oh! from out the sounding cells,

What a gush of euphony voluminously wells,
How it swells!

How it dwells

On the future!-how it tells

Of the rapture that impels

To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells,

To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

Hear the loud alarum bells,
Brazen bells!

What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night

How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,

In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,

And a resolute endeavor
Now-now to sit, or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh! the bells!

What a tale their terror tells
Of despair!

How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horrid outpour

On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging

And the clanging,

How the danger ebbs and flows;
Yet the ear distinctly tells,

In the jangling

And the wrangling,

How the danger sinks and swells,

By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells, In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

Hear the tolling of the bells,

Iron bells!

What a world of solemn thought their monody compels ! In the silence of the night

How we shiver with affright

At the melancholy menace of their tone!

For every sound that floats

From the rust within their throats

And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,

Feel a glory in so rolling

On the human heart a stone:
They are neither man nor woman,
They are neither brute nor human;
They are ghouls;

And their king it is who tolls
And he rolls

A

pæan from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the pean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time,

In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the pean of the bells,
Keeping time

As he knells,

In a happy Runic rhyme,

To the rolling of the bells,

To the tolling of the bells,

To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.

EDGAR A. POE.

SAMUEL SHORT'S SUCCESS.

[The following alliterative exercise, aside from its novel character, will afford opportunity for practice in difficult articulation.]

Seventeen summers'

Shrewd Simon Short sewed shoes. speeding storms, succeeding sunshine, successively saw Simon's small shabby shop standing staunch, saw Simon's self-same sign still swinging, silently specifying: "Simon Short, Smithfield's sole surviving shoemaker. Shoes sewed, soled superfinely." Simon's spry sedulous spouse, Sally Short, sewed shirts, stitched sheets, stuffed sofas. Simon's six stout sturdy sons,-Seth, Samuel, Stephen, Saul, Shadrach, Silas-sold sundries. Sober Seth sold

sugar, starch, spices; Simple Sam sold saddles, stirrups, screws; Sagacious Stephen sold silks, satins, shawls; Skeptical Saul sold silver salvers, silver spoons; Selfish Shadrach sold shoe strings, soaps, saws, skates; Slack Silas sold Sally Short's stuffed sofas.

Some seven summers since, Simon's second son, Samuel,

saw Sophia Sophronia Spriggs somewhere. Sweet, sensible, smart Sophia Sophronia Spriggs. Sam soon showed strange symptoms. Sam seldom stayed storing, selling saddles. Sam sighed sorrowfully, sought Sophia Sophronia's society, sang several serenades slily. Simon stormed, scolded severely, said Sam seemed so silly, singing such shameful, senseless songs.

"Strange Sam should slight such splendid summer sales," said Simon. "Strutting spendthrift! shatterbrained simpleton !"

"Softly, softly, sire," said Sally; "Sam's smittenSam's spied sweetheart."

"Sentimental schoolboy!" snarled Simon; "Smitten ! Stop such stuff!”

Simon sent Sally's snuff-box spinning, seizing Sally's scissors, smashed Sally's spectacles, scattering several spools. "Sneaking scoundrel! Sam's shocking silliness shall surcease!" Scowling Simon stopped speaking, starting swiftly shopward. Sally sighed sadly. Summoning Sam, she spoke sweet sympathy.

"Sam," said she, "sire seems singularly snappy; so, sonny, stop strolling sidewalks, stop smoking segars, spending specie superfluously; stop sprucing so; stop singing serenades-stop short: sell saddles, sonny; sell saddles sensibly; see Sophia Sophronia Spriggs soon; she's sprightly, she's staple, so solicit, sure; so secure Sophia speedily, Sam."

"So soon; so soon?" said Sam, standing stock still. "So soon! surely," said Sally, smiling, "specially since sire shows such spirit."

So Sam, somewhat scared, sauntered slowly, shaking stupendously. Sam soliloquises:

"Sophia Sophronia Spriggs Short-Sophia Sophronia Short, Samuel Short's spouse-sounds splendid! Suppose she should say—she sha'n't!"

Soon Sam spied Sophia starching shirts, singing softly. Seeing Sam she stopped starching; saluted Sam smilingly; Sam stammered shockingly.

"Sp-sp-splendid summer season, Sophia.' "Somewhat sultry," suggested Sophia.

"Sar-sartin, Sophia," said Sam. (Silence seventeen seconds.)

"Selling saddles still, Sam?"

"Sar-sar-sartin," said Sam, starting suddenly.

"Sea

son's somewhat soporific," said Sam, stealthily staunching streaming sweat, shaking sensibly.

"Sartin," said Sophia, smiling significantly. "Sip some sweet sherbet, Sam." (Silence sixty seconds.)

"Sire shot sixty sheldrakes, Saturday," said Sophia. Sixty? sho!" said Sam. (Silence seventy-seven seconds.)

"See sister Susan's sunflowers," said Sophia, sociably scattering such stiff silence.

Sophia's sprightly sauciness stimulated Sam strangely: so Sam suddenly spoke sentimentally: "Sophia, Susan's sunflowers seem saying, 'Samuel Short, Sophia Sophronia Spriggs, stroll serenely, seek some sequestered spot, some sylvan shade. Sparkling spring shall sing soul-soothing strains; sweet songsters shall silence secret sighing; superangelic sylphs shall-'

Sophia snickered: so Sam stopped.

"Sophia," said Sam, solemnly.

"Sam," said Sophia.

"Sophia, stop smiling. Sam Short's sincere. Sam's seeking some sweet spouse, Sophia."

row.

'Speak, Sophia, speak! Such suspense speculates sor

"Seek sire, Sam; seek sire."

So Sam sought sire Spriggs. Sire Spriggs said, "Sartin."

OLD TIMES AND NEW.

[Let the characters be well drawn and Warren's amazement well depicted.]

'Twas in my easy chair at home,

About a week ago,

I sat and puffed my light cigar,
As usual, you must know.

I mused upon the Pilgrim flock,
Whose luck it was to land
Upon almost the only Rock
Among the Plymouth sand.