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'Twas very quaint, 'twas very strange,

Extremely strange, you must allow. Dear me! how modes and customs change!

It could not happen now.
And as for him, that foolish lad,

He'd hardly close an eye,
And look so woe-begone and sad,

He'd make his mother cry. • He goes,” she'd say, “ from bad to worse!

My boy so blithe and brave,
Last night I found him writing verse

About a lonely grave!”
And lo! next day her nerves he'd shock

With laugh, and song, and caper;
And there! - she'd find a golden lock
Wrapped up in tissue paper.

Our boys are wiser now.

FREDERICK LANGBRIDGE, - Good Words.

“They strive to save our wicked souls,

And fit them for the sky; Meanwhile, not having bread to eat,

( Forgive!) our bodies die.”

Then the Lord God spake out of Heaven

In wrath and angry pain: “O men, for whom my Son hath died, My Son hath lived in vain!"

ARTHUR SYMONS. The Woman's World.

IT COULD NOT HAPPEN NOW.

Ere country ways had turned to street,

And long ere we were born,
A lad and lass would chance to meet,
And often she'd neglect her task,
The willows bowed to nudge the brook,

The cowslips nodded gay,
And he would look, and she would look,

And both would look away.
Yet each -- and this is so absurd -

Would dream about the other,
And she would never breathe a word
To that good dame her mother.

Our girls are wiser now. 'Twas very quaint. 'twas very strange,

Extremely strange, you must allow; Dear me! how modes and customs change!

It could not happen now.

IN BOHEMIA.
I CAME between the glad green hills,

Whereon the summer sunshine lay,

And all the world was young that day, As when the Spring's soft laughter thrills

The pulses of the waking May: You were alive; yet scarce I knew Thu world was glad, because of you. I came between the sad green hills,

Whereon the summer twilight lay,

And all the world was old that day, And hoary age forgets the thrills

That woke the pulse of the May: And you were dead — how well I knew The world was sad because of you.

LOUISE CHANDI ER MOULTON -- Scribner's Magazine, January, 1889.

A LYRIC.

Next day that idle, naughty lass

Would rearrange her hair,
And ponder long before the glass

Which bow she ought to wear;
“Why do you blush like that?”

And seldom care to chat,
And make her mother frown, and ask,

“ Why do you blush like that?” And now she'd haunt with footsteps slow

That mead with cowslips yellow, Down which she'd met a week ago That stupid, staring fellow.

Our girls are wiser now.

If any one can tell you

How my song is wrought

And my melodies are caught, I will give, not sell you, The secret, if there be one (For I could never see one),

How my songs are wrought. Like the blowing of the wind,

Or the flowing of the stream, Is the music in my mind,

And the voice in my dream,Where many things appear, The dimple, the tear,

NOTES.

And the pageant of the Year,
But nothing that is clear,
At Even and Morn

Where sadness is gladness
And sorrow unforlorn,
For there Song is born.

RICHARD HENRY STODDARD. - The Century Magazine, December, 1888.

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AT A READING. THE spare Professor, grave and bald, Began his paper. It was called, I think, “A Brief Historic Glance At Russia, Germany and France." A glance, but to my best belief 'Twas almost anything but brief A wide survey, in which the earth Was seen before mankind had birth; Strange monsters basked them in the sun, Behemoth, armored glyptodon, And in the dawn's unpracticed ray The transient dodo winged its way; Then, by degrees, through slit and slough, We reached Berlin - I don't know how. The good professor's monotone Had turned me into senseless stone Instanter, but that near me sat Hypatia in her new spring hat, Blue-eyed, intent, with lips whose bloom Lighted the heavy-curtained room. Hypatia - ah, what lovely things Are fashioned out of eighteen springs At first, in sums of this amount, The eighteen winters do not count. Just as my eyes were growing dim With heaviness, I saw that slim, Erect, elastic figure there, Like a pond-lily taking air. She looked so fresh, so wise, so neat, So altogether crisp and sweet, I quite forgot what Bismarck said, And why the Emperor shook his head, And how it was Von Moltke's frown Cost France another frontier town. The only facts I took away From the Professor's theme that day Were these: a forehead broad and low, Such as the antique sculptures show; A chin to Greek perfection true; Eyes of Astarté's tender blue; A high complexion without fleck Or flaw, and curls about her neck.

THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH, -Harper's Magazine, December, 1888.

GILDER. “The New Day, a Poem in Songs and Sonnets,” bears copyright of 1875, 1880, 1885 and 1887. “The Celestial Passion," 1878, 1885 and 1887. Lyrics," 1878, 1885 and 1887. Important corrections were made in the text in each edi. tion.

HOUGHTON. “Courage" was originally published in Scribner's Magazine.

IBID. Mr. Houghton recently resigned the editorship of The Hub, to accept a like position in connection with Varnish, published monthly in New York.

Martin. In a letter to a friend Mr. Martin says: · During an autumn walk in South Wales, I no. ticed a leafless thorn in a hedge by the roadside made gay with the berries of the briony, and I composed the little song during my walk. I wrote “ Apple Blossoms" with perhaps greater rapidity than any poem of mine. I was staying at a farm-house in Herefordshire in the spring, surrounded with apple-orchards. My hostess told me that in the previous spring her daughter had been married, and she described the freedom with which they used apple blossoms for the decoration and adornment of the bride and the bridesmaids the church and the wedding-table. I was greatly pleased, and thought it most fitting and proper in an apple county like Herefordshire. The next morning when I entered the breakfast room, I found the table decorated with apple blossoms, a large old-fashioned China punch-bowl standing in the centre piled up with the most delicious blossoms. The sun was shining into the room, the orchard, ablaze with color, could be seen in the distance; the subtle sweet odor surrounded me. I took a sheet of paper, and during my pleasant meal wrote the little poem as you find it, and my breakfast and it were finished together."

O'Reilly. Many of the “ Songs of the Southern Seas," were republished in “ Songs, Legends and Ballads."

ABBEY. The poems of Henry Abbey bear copyright 1866, 1869, 1872, 1879, 1880 and 1885. “ Faith's Vista" is from a recent number of the American Magazine.

BROTHERTON. “ A Song of Fleeting Love" is from The Century Magazine for May, 1888.

CHATTERTON. Such precocity of genius was never perhaps before witnessed. We have the poems of Pope and Cowley written, one at twelve (at least the first draft), and the other at fifteen

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years of age, but both were inferior to the verses in Harper's Weekly, and has been since copied, by of Chatterton at eleven.

actual count of each appearance, over eight hundred BLAKE. From a lack of early discipline to some

times. Gus Williams, the actor, recited it during extent may be ascribed the premature development his presentation of " The German Senator." It of the marvelous imaginative faculty of Blake

met with the usual fate of popular poems, and was his somewhat powerful self-assertive spirit - and claimed by several authors. his early dalliance with the muses; for he was CRAWFORD. The song, “The Drunkard's Ragscarcely out of the years of infancy before he be- git Wean," is not a great poetical effort by any gan to write verse. A Song" is one of the best means, but it secured a favor with the public, lyrics of its kind in the English language. A. S. which more elaborate works of art seldom achieve. Poe. For airiness, brightness, and suggestive

It is curious to know that the song was composed ness, we have only a very few lyrics like “ A Song"

inside a city U. P. Church one Sunday afternoon, by William Blake; but it is remarkable that one of

in the September of 1855. It was certainly a darthose few was also produced by another marvel. ing act of the poet-this sacrifice of a Sunday ous boy" at about the same age.

A. S. sermon at the shrine of Poesy; but the words of COOLBRITH. From The Century Magazine, De

the sermon very probably fell still-born from the cember, 1885.

pulpit, while the song, winged with music, has, LAIGHTON. From The Atlantic Monthly, February,

for a quarter of a century, inculcated lessons of 1879.

morality in thousands of human hearts, in view of BURROUGHS. Waiting" is the only poem by

which, the Recording Angel very probably has long

since cancelled the poet's neglect of the parson's John Burroughs in print. It was written in 1862, and printed in the old K’nickerbocker Magazine dur

sermon, by a conclusive per contra of — Fully Paid!

A. C. M. ing the brief revival under the management of a

BANKS. It was at Harrogate, over the breakfast Mr. Cornwallis. The poem seems to have attracted

table, that Mr. Banks wrote his celebrated poem, no attention until Whittier put it in his collection

What I Live For." It went into the Family Herald of “Songs of Three Centuries," since which time

first, then into his next volume, “ Peals from the it has been included in many collections published in this country and in England.

Belfry" (1853), and since has gone the world over.

Dr. Guthrie, Dr. Raleigh, and others have tagged LATHROP. The authorship of “ A Woman's An.

sermons and speeches with a stanza from it, the swer to a Man's Question" is often attributed to

Chevalier de Chatelain published a French transElizabeth Barrett Browning, and also to Adelaide

lation, and The Panama Star and Herald adopted the Proctor. To a correspondent the author says: “I

three concluding lines as its motto. E. B. am surprised at the interest in my little poem written

CHESTER. “The Tapestry Weavers” was origin. originally as a pat amusement to a real valentine, written to a real girl friend, by a real bachelor.

ally published in The Century Magazine. It has

been set to music by Rev. T. B. Stephenson of All the parties are still alive, and that the poem is

London, England. mine is beyond a chance of doubt. It was not

LANGBRIDGE. A Song" first appeared in the written for publication, and it did not see the light

St. James Magazine some years ago. for several years after its writing. It was first

MCINTYRE. "Knee Deep" is from The Current, published in the Washington, Arkansas, Post, my

Chicago, Ill., July 4, 1885. brother, Colonel James Torrans, then being owner and editor of the paper. From that time it has

PIATT. · Caprice at Home" is from Appleton's often gone through the papers, rarely with proper

Journal, July, 1877. N. S. vol. 3, No. 1, page 67. credit. The title under which I published it was: Cooke. ". Two" is from Good Cheer, February, A Woman's Answer to a Man's Question,” not 1885. " A Woman's Question."

PEIRSON. • Ripe Wheat" was first published in BRINE. “Somebody's Mother" was conceived

Moore's Rural New Yorker in 1869. Originally pub. while the author was riding on a Brooklyn street

lished under the author's usual nom de plume of car one very snowy day, some few years ago, “Aliqua," within three weeks we saw it in a counwhen she saw an old and poor woman at a street try paper, without any recognition of authorship, crossing. The woman was afraid to stir owing to or any hint of credit, whatever; and ever since the ice and the carts and crowd. A number of boys then the poem has been as veritable a waií as any passing at the time laughed at her, and went on we could mention, finding a snug place in number. without offering to assist her. It was first published less newspaper corners, and preaching its little

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ful age.

sermon, of what life and death ought to be, to a large audience. It has been included, also, in several compilations of religious rhyme, and has been repeatedly quoted in obituary columns, with special reference - a touching memorial of fruit-,

A. A. H. PEACOCK. “ Helen of Troy" was originally published in the London Spectator.

MCCLELLAND. Eminent among the literary workers of her state stands Miss Minnie G. McClelland. That she was born out of the ordinary groove, was made plain in her early childhood. The old ancestral home stood for conmon-school and college in the education of the growing girl. There it be. gan, and there it is still going on, self-directed, broadening, and deepening. She is an intense student, cherishing a keen interest in every depart. ment of learning, and has shown a surprising mastery of fresh intellectual gains, by the way in which she weaves them into the fabric of her stories. Long before the publication of “ Oblivion" she wrote magazine stories and dialect poems, which compare favorably with the work of her maturer pen.

The first of these was written, when very young, under the inspiration of a realistic situation. A chicken-fight over a worm, occurred in her presence one summer morning, as she sat in the yard of the old homestead engaged in the domestic employment of churning. Seizing pencil and paper from a folio beside her, she jotted down with one hand, while continuing her homely occupation with the other, the notes of a negro dialect poem.

In addition to her fine intellectual gifts, Miss McClelland possesses a God-given love of humanity. From her youth, she has stood for the defense of the weak and helpless. Sacrifice of personal pleasure for the benefit of others, to her is a privilege rather than a duty. She is a genuine child of nature, cherishing a vehement indignation against all forms of injustice and oppression. With self-forgetful magnanimity she gives her hand to those on the lower step of life's ladder. Socially Miss McClelland has great attractions. Her conversational powers are decidedly fine. Her manner possesses unaffected freshness and charm. She is unconventional to a degree, and wholly devoid of self-consciousness. Like her own Myra Yorke in • Madame Silva," she is “enthusiastic, emotional, intense." In person she is rather tall and slender. When in repose, the expression of her face, as delineated in her picture, becomes introspective and tenderly eloquent of unspoken thought, silencing at once all intrusive remark, which might disturb some beautiful mental creation. W. R L. S.

BIBLIOGRAPHY. WORKS CONSULTED IN THE PREPARATION OF This

NUMBER OF THE MAGAZINE OF POETRY." GILDER, RICHARD Watson. The New Day, a Poem in Songs and Sonnets. Fourth edition. New York: The Century Co., 1887. 12mo, pp. 103.

IBID. The Celestial Passion. New York: The Century Co., 1887. 12mo, pp. 76.

Ibid. Lyrics. Second edition. New York: The Century Co., 1887. 12mo, pp. 136.

HOUGHTON, GEORGE W. W. Songs from Over the Sea, New York: No title page, S. W. Green, printer, 1874. 12mo, pp. 24.

Ibid. Album Leaves. Boston: Estes and Lau. riat, 1878. 12mo, pp. 34.

IBID. Drift from York-Harbor Maine, Boston: A. Williams and Co., 1879. 12mo, pp. 48.

IBID. The Legend of St. Olaf's Kirk. Boston: Estes and Lauriat, 1880. 12mo, pp. 64,

IBID. The Same. Second edition, revised. Boston: Houghton, Miffin and Co., 1881. 16mo, pp. 92. Ibid.

Niagara and Other Poems. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Co., 1882. 16mo, pp. 130.

WHITMAN, WALT. Leaves of Grass. Philadel. phia: David McKay, 1882. 12mo, pp. 382.

IBID. November Boughs. Philadelphia: David McKay, 1888.

8vo, pp. 140. GREEN, ANNA KATHARINE. The Defense of the Bride and Other Poems. New York. G. P. Put. nam's Sons, 1882. 16mo, pp. 4 and 124.

Ibid. Risifi's Daughter, a Drama. New York and London: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1887. I2mo. pp. 4 and 109.

SYLVA, CARMEN. Songs of Toil, by Carmen Sylva, Queen of Rumania. Translated by John Eliot Bowen. With an Introductory Sketch. New York: Frederick A. Stokes and Brother, 1858. 16mo, pp. 143.

CONVERSE, HARRIET MAXWELL. Sh es, a Col. lection of Poems. Second edition. New York and London: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1885. 12mo, pp. 8 and 217.

IBID. Miscellaneous Poems.

Martin, WILLIAM WILSEY. By Solent and Dan. ube, Poems and Ballads. London: Trübner and Co., 1885. 12mo, pp. II and 171.

Ibid. Miscellaneous poems from QUERIES, and unpublished poems.

GILFILLAN, ROBERT. The Scottish Minstrel. The Songs of Scotland Subsequent to Burns, with Mem.

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