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Thy lover so besought thee to bestow ?
Wouldst thou not feel a want unknown before ?

A something gone familiar grown so long ?
A vanished light - a ship gone from the shore -
A presence past from out the world's great

throng? O Love, wouldst thou not miss the voice of yore? The song-bird flown, wouldst thou not miss the


JOY IN SORROW. THE wan November sun is westering;

The pale, proud year puts all her glory by;

Beneath her blue, bare feet her vestures lie,
And white and faint she stands a-shivering:
And yet the world's great heart is quickening
Beneath dead leaves and grass grown sere

and dry,
And through the silence of the somber sky
Throb swift pulsations of a forefelt spring.
So all our sorrow hath a core of bliss;

Some prophecy of pleasure tempers pain
In every heart, and through our bitterness

Strikes a fierce joy that not a pang is vain; Life hath no hidden good that life shall miss,

For with all loss is mixed some god-like gain.


ALLIE L. BONNEY was born in Peoria, Ill.,

where her father, Hon. C. C. Bonney, was a young lawyer just beginning practice, who shortly afterward removed to Chicago, where he has since resided. Miss Bonney is of Anglo-Norman origin, being descended from the noble De Bon family, who figured in the days of William the Conqueror. Afterward the spelling of the name became De Bonaye, and later assumed its present form. Miss Bonney attended the best schools of Chicago, and afterward graduated from the famous Chestnut Street Seminary for young ladies, then located in Philadelphia, but since removed to Ogontz. While purely, almost divinely feminine in every respect, she yet inherits from her legal ancestry a mental strength that is very decided, though not masculine.

She has published two prose works, “Wit and Wisdom of Bulwer” and “Wisdom and Eloquence of Webster.” She is a proficient French scholar, and has made translations of many of Victor Hugo's shorter works. Her first writing for periodicals was a story, which was printed serially in a Chicago Masonic magazine; and since then she has written poems, sketches, and stories for a great number of periodicals. She has written the words of a number of songs that have been set to music by F. Nicholls Crouch, the composer of “ Kathleen Mavourneen." Eben H. Bailey, and W. H. Doane. She has written two operettas, one set to music by Mr. Bailey, and the other by Mr. Doane, and has dramatized the “ Rienzi” of Bulwer, an author who retains a very warm spot in her affections.

Miss Bonney has been in delicate health for many years. Several Chicago physicians having expressed the belief that she could not live another winter in Chicago, or indeed anywhere in the east, which opinion was endorsed by Boston medi. cal authorities, she removed to California in 1887, and spent the winter in San Diego, and the subsequent spring located in San Francisco, where the climate evidently agrees with her so well that she thinks she is reasonably certain of a further lease of life for a few years.

Miss Bonney's features are very fair and delicate, her hair is of a changing brown, bronze in shadow, and full of tints of unwashed gold where the sunlight seeks kinship in its meshes. She has what are known as “ Irish eyes,” violet at times, and again darker, with very full, decided eyebrows.

Although Miss Bonney did not begin writing till the year 1882, and the most of her work has been done while in bed or on her lounge, she has accomplished a great deal, and has gained a recognition that is general and gratifying, among the letters of compliment and praise she has received being several from Lord Lytton, John G. Whittier, and others.

E V.

Ah, happy poet who may guess
The ever-changing loveliness,
The lightsome grace, the airy wiles
Wherewith coy nature masks her smil
And, stealing on her unaware,
Behold her when she is most fair!

- Elusion.

ECHO. Ah! when the large, cool-breasted Night hath drawn

Her star-wrought mantle from the waking world, And on the hills, where gleam the feet of Dawn, The trailing banners of the mist are furled,

Then, O Narcissus, while the woodlands ring,
Dost thou not miss me by thy silver spring ?

- Echo's Lament.

She would not stir a single jetty lash,

To hear me praised; but when my life was blamed
Her parian cheeks were kindled like a flash,
And from her heart a sudden love upflamed.

-Quatrain. PRESENT. Though faded joys shall nevermore return,

Neither shall faded griefs, the first or last, And time's true heir is of the present born.

- The Present,

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The song floats on, its music swells,

Then dies away in echo sweet,
While murmuring wind and singing wave

The happy cadence soft repeat;
And o'er the gold-touched billows fair

Then sailor voices take the strain,
And answer comes through gloaming mist,

In second stanza's sweet refrain.

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Jio caro, though apart,

Close your eyes in happy sleep; Bending from the land of dreams,

Angels fair love's vigils keep. Stars shine softly through the blue,

Faded is the sunset light, Yet o'er darkling waters wide

Heart to heart may say good-night.

AN OLDEN LEGEND. The Rabbi Judah and his brethren wise

Disputed in the temple what was Rest; And as in turn the learned fathers spoke

Each one the burthen of his heart confest. One said, “'t was to gain sufficient wealth,"

Another, that 'twas fame and worldly praise," The third sought Rest“ in power to rule the state," Another claimed, “'twas ease and length of

days." One Rabbi thought these baubles all in vain.

The brother found in Home the blissful rest, While Judah, tallest of the wise men, held

Keeping tradition of the elders best. Silent till then there sat within the court,

A fair-haired boy with lilies in his hand, Too young, unlearned, the reverend fathers thought

The import of their talk to understand. "Nay, nay, my fathers, he alone finds Rest

Who loveth God with his whole soul and heart, And," the child added, reverently and low,

His brother, as of his own life a part:
He greater is than wealth, or power, or fame,

Better than happy home, than honored age,
Above tradition, to himself a law-"

Thus holy child instructed Rabbi Sage.

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HEAVEN's fairest star
Trembled a moment in the gold-flecked blue;

Then, earth ward dropped,
Was in an empty cradle lost to view,

Till angel came,
And, softly parting back the curtains, smiled,

While hosts proclaimed The birth of Bethlehem's King in new-born child.


AN EASTER CUSTOM. I met her Easter morning

In the old Cathedral aisle, And, early at the service,

She gave me bow and smile.

The golden gleam of the Western sun,

In a flood of amber light,
Streamed softly in at the window, where
It lingered to say “ Good-night."





CHE delightful story of “Tom Brown at

Rugby," by which Thomas Hughes won a unique and lasting fame, and made every schoolboy his debtor for life, would hardly have been Written but for the character given that school by Dr. Thomas Arnold from 1828 to 1842, and the most celebrated teacher of boys the Englishspeaking world has known. A native of the Isle of Wight, and graduate, in 1811, of Corpus Christi College, Oxford, Mr. Arnold, in 1820, married Miss Mary Penrose, the daughter of a clergyman, and settled as a private tutor at Laleham, a Middlesex hamlet of half-a-thousand souls. ere, on December 24, 1822, his son, Matthew, was born. The father was best known in after years as an essayist, educator, preacher and historian. Yet the passion of poetry was very strong within him and, although he did little if any work in that field, his own poetic spirit, developed in his son, has left us a rich legacy of verse.

Laleham was a fit cradle for the infant poet. It reposes in picturesque beauty on a green bank of the Thames, opposite that Chertsey whither Cowley fled from the bustle of the little London of his day to enjoy the literary leisure of which cities are the foe. Here, in the quietude of Laleham, the first six years of Matthew Arnold's life were passed. In 1828 his father having been ordained, the removal of the family to Rugby changed its life from rest to action. It was the opposite of Laleham - no dreamy contemplation there, but, instead, the busy routine of the school for boys. The outward life of Matthew Arnold at Rugby was that which we read of in Mr. Hughes's wonderful tale,doubtless somewhat modi. fied by his relationship to the head master. His first poetic triumnph worthy of note occurred on his leaving school, when he won the prize poem and was elected to a scholarship at Balliol. These Balliol scholarships always have been hard to win, and at no time were they enjoyed by a more remarkable set of men than in 1810-44. Among them Matthew Arnold easily held his own. Although disappointed of a first-class, he won the coveted Newdigate prize for English verse in 1843, his theme being, “Oliver Cromwell," and was elected Fellow of Oriel College, March 28, 1845 — just thirty years after his father received the same fellowship

In 1847, Mr. Arnold became private secretary to Lord Lansdowne, whom he served until 1851, when he married and was appointed a Lay Inspector of Schools under the Committee of Council on Education. In 1848 the poet published his first collection of verse, The Strayed Revellers, and Other Poems," veiling his identity under a modest initial A. Four years later, “Empedocles on

Eina" appeared, but was soon withdrawn from circulation, though afterwards acknowledged and reprinted in "New Poems." About 1853 Mr. Arnold published the first series of his poems, selected from these volumes with fresh additions, and followed it with a second series of a similar character. In these collections the world saw that a new poet had arisen to whom it must listen. He was welcome. The poems were republished in 1856, and Mr. Arnold was elected to the Chair of Poetry at Oxford, following the Rev. Thomas Leigh Claughton, and contesting the election with the Rev. John Ernest Bode, one of the most dis. tinguished members of the University. This professorship Mr. Arnold held for ten years, doing much in poetry and criticism beside discharging his official duties for which, perhaps, no incumbent was ever better qualified. “Merope," the most classical of all Mr. Arnold's poems, appeared in 1858, but was not successful at the time. “Atlanta in Calydon" followed, creating a stir in the literary world by its force and power, no less than by its violations of some of the fundamental laws of tragedy.

In 1859-60, Mr. Arnold was sent abroad by the Government as an assistant to the commission to inquire into the state of education in France, Germany and Holland, upon which he submitted an elaborate report. The next year he published his lectures on translating Homer, which involved him in a spirited controversy with professor Newman, whose translation Mr. Arnold had sharply criticised. In 1865, his “Essays in Criticism" appeared, after which he again visited the Continent on an errand similar to his first journey. In 1867 he published “ New Poems," followed by a volume on Celtic literature. In this year Mr. Arnold relinquished the Chair of Poetry at Oxford, to give himself entirely to the criticism and lectures which, with miscellaneous work, occupied the later years of his life. The degree of Doctor in Laws was conferred upon him by Edinburgh University, in 1869, and by his own college in 1870. In 1870 he was made a Commander of the Crown of Italy in recognition of his services to the young Duke of Genoa, who made one of Mr. Arnold's family while pursuing his studies in England.

Mr. Arnold visited Am rica in 1884, and again two years later.

His frank criticisms upon our ways were not relished by many although his strictures were far less severe than those to which he habitually treated his own nation.

On Sunday, April 17, 1888, while walking in Liverpool after church-to which city Mr. Arnold had gone to meet his daughter on her return from America, he was suddenly stricken down by disease, and died. He was interred in the little churchyard at Laleham, amid the peaceful scenes of his early childhood.

A. G. B.

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