And can't you make some apple-pies?"
Be still; can't spare the sugar.

"Dear me," says Madge, "this lesson's hard,
Oh, mother, what is harder?"
Say I, My daughter dear, to stand
Before an empty larder.

I'd like to know how I can go

To the Good Templar's meeting,
When they initiate Bill and Joe,-
(My; how the oven's heating!)
And what they do I cannot know,
While I the eggs am beating;
My hands are full to stay at home,
And only fix for eating.

And yet their purpose seemeth good,
To keep the frail from drinking,
And while I'm thus preparing food,
I'll still keep thinking, thinking.
They right all wrongs within their power,
And keep the poor from ill;
So while my hands are in the flour,
My heart is with them still.

How can I write, I'd like to know,
For that old Boston paper?
("Ma, Watch has eat the custard up!"—
Oh! what a wretched caper.)

I cannot read what others write;
Have scarcely time to think;

Much less to scratch my head for brains,
And daub my hands with ink.

"Mamma," says Dick, "may I go out
With Tom Greene and his brother?
They're going down the brook for trout,
Why can't I go, say, mother?"

No, boy, your father does not wish-
Here, stop, I say, and hear me,—
You shan't go down the brook to fish!-
What! Don't you even fear me?

That plaguy Dick is out of sight,—
The bread must soon be moulded ;—
And here I've lost my temper, quite,
And "been and gone" and scolded.
A wretched mother, that is plain,
Oh! such a wicked sinner;-

And there comes husband through the lane,
And brings four men to dinner!

CHARLIE MACHREE.-WILLIAM J. HOPPIN.

Come over, come over the river to me,
If ye are my laddie, bold Charlie Machree!

Here's Mary McPherson and Susy O'Linn,

Who say ye're faint-hearted, and dare not plunge in.
But the dark rolling river, though deep as the sea,
I know cannot scare you, nor keep you from me;

For stout is your back and strong is your arm,
And the heart in your bosom is faithful and warm.

Come over, come over the river to me,
If ye are my laddie, bold Charlie Machree.

I see him, I see him. He's plunged in the tide,
His strong arms are dashing the big waves aside.
Oh! the dark rolling water shoots swift as the sea,
But blithe is the glance of his bonny blue e'e;
His cheeks are like roses, twa buds on a bough;
Who says ye're faint-hearted, my brave laddie, now.

Ho, ho, foaming river, ye may roar as ye go,
But ye canna bear Charlie to the dark loch below!

Come over, come over the river to me,

My true-hearted laddie, my Charlie Machree!

He's sinking, he's sinking-Oh, what shall I do! Strike out, Charlie, boldly, ten strokes and ye're thro'.

He's sinking, O Heaven! Ne'er fear, man, ne'er fear;
I've a kiss for ye, Charlie, as soon as ye're here!

He rises, I see him,-five strokes, Charlie, mair,—
He's shaking the wet from his bonny brown hair;

He conquers the current, he gains on the sea,—
Ho, where is the swimmer like Charlie Machree!

Come over the river, but once come to me,
And I'll love ye forever, dear Charlie Machree.

He's sinking, he's gone,- O God, it is I,

It is I, who have killed him-help, help!-he must die. Help, help!-ah, he rises,-strike out and ye're free. Ho, bravely done, Charlie, once more now, for me!

Now cling to the rock, now give me your hand,-
Ye're safe, dearest Charlie, ye're safe on the land!
Come rest on my bosom, if there ye can sleep;
I canna speak to ye; I only can weep.

Ye've crossed the wild river, ye've risked all for me,
And I'll part frae ye never, dear Charlie Machree!

BLIFKINS THE RURALIST.-B. P. SHILLABER.

Blifkins had leased a house at a convenient distance from Boston, and every morning he might have been seen with the "innumerable caravan "that streamed down town from one of our railroads, and, as the evening shades prevailed, with his basket of purchases, entering the railroad depot as regularly as a cow accustomed to come into a byre for milking.

When he first moved to his country residence, Mrs. Blifkins and her mother-Blifkins was blessed in his motherin-law, she was so good to advise-thought the place was charming. It was delightfully situated on the outskirts of the village, with a hill rising from the back door to a respectable altitude, and a brook but a short distance from the house, in which the children and the ducks could paddle with perfect freedom, and where the frogs came at night to serenade the neighborhood, and soothe it into peaceful rest by their dulcet notes.

His nearest neighbor, Mr. Sparin, dwelt in the house opposite, who, as Blifkins found a short time after he had located, was in the habit of indulging in occasional “times,” -"benders" the initiated call them,-when he would be away for several days in the enjoyment of sublime indifference to home and everything else; but he was harmless to everybody except himself; and, after the fit was over, he would return, and settle down to work again as quietly as though nothing had happened, looking his neighbors in the face as composedly as though he had returned from a political convention, or a missionary meeting in some other place. If any one inquired as to where he had gone, he had an an

swer always ready, that, to those unfamiliar with his habits, was of the most satisfactory character. He informed Blifkins, who was at first curious regarding his disappearance, that he had been up in the country to see about some property that had been left to his wife; and Blifkins had nothing more to say.

Sparin had been away three days at the time the grand incident of this veracious story transpired; and, as Blifkins alighted from the cars on his return from the city on that day, he was informed that Sparin had been seen by one of the neighbors going towards home across the pasture. On arriving home, he was surprised to find his wife, and his mother-in-law, and all the children arranged along the front of the house in a sort of evening dress-parade, gazing intently up towards Sparin's house. The night was calm and pleasant, and he thought at first, before he joined them, that they were enjoying the beauties of the evening. He was past the dressing-gown and slippers period, and therefore knew the parade was not complimentary to himself; but he said by way of a joke,

"This, now, is really kind of you. There is nothing that cheers a man up so, on returning fatigued from business, like a kind reception from 'wife and weans.' This is really pleasant."

"Blifkins, don't be a fool," said his wife; "but look up there."

She pointed to a front upper window in Sparin's house, and a queer sight met his startled gaze. A bright light that sat on a table near the window shone full upon a human face, that with staring eyes seemed to glare wildly upon vacancy, with a meaningless expression, motionless, while, at intervals of a few moments, alternate hands stole up to the top of the head, and then, with a seeming effort to grasp something, dropped again from sight.

"A pretty place you've brought us to!" said Mrs. Blifkins, with the acid slightly preponderating over the sweet.

"I'm glad to hear you say so, my dear," said he; “I knew you would like it. The quiet of the place and the convenience of access-'five minutes' walk from the depot,' as the advertisement said, though I must confess that the five min

utes seem rather long between the railroad and my treasures." Gallant Blifkins!

"Don't be a fool always," said Mrs. Blifkins; that?"

"what is

She pointed up at the window opposite, where the face yet remained—the eyes staring out into vacancy, and the han 13 alternately clutching the air, as it appeared. Poor Blifkins was as puzzled at the sight as was Belshazzar when he saw the writing on the wall. He scarcely dared to breathe his suspicions to himself; but it at once ran through his mind that the face opposite belonged to Sparin, who he deemed had come home, and was then in a fit of delirium tremens, fancying the air full of snakes and other venomous reptiles, and he was engaged in the interesting game of catching them. The idea was a horrid one, and he imparted his suspicions to Mrs. Blifkins with some timidity. Her mind immediately took alarm.

"What if he should kill his family," said she," with a carving-knife, and then go round murdering his neighbors, and setting fire to their houses, and then finish with himself! Gracious goodness, it makes my blood run cold.”

"I guess he won't do any hurt," said Blifkins, with affected cheerfulness. At that moment the figure gave what seemed a desperate grab, as though a particularly big snake were aimed at, and Mrs. Blifkins, in a tone of great earnestness, said,—

"Why don't you do something, stupid?"

"What can I do?" responded the unfortunate Blifkins.

66

'Why, go over and tie him," said the excellent woman, with a quick mind that never lacked for expedients. Blifkins, however, looked timidly at the stony face and the staring eyes and the hands grasping at the snakes, and did not jump at her proposition with the alacrity that a tender husband ought to have done, she thought.

He had a half-formed plan of raising an alarm of fire, and bringing out the engine company, but was stayed by the imperative question of his wife,—

"Why don't you go?"

Mustering courage, he ran across the street, when it occurred to him that Uncle Bean, as he was called, a soldier

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