and black coffee, I took a pipe. This sorrowful man had not said three words up to this time. Now he spoke up and said, in the voice of one who is secretly suffering: "You're the fourth—I'm a-going to move.” "The fourth what?" said I. "The fourth littery man that's been here in twenty-four hours-I'm a-going to move." "You don't tell me!" said I. "Who were the others?" "Mr. Longfellow, Mr. Emerson, and Mr. Oliver. Wendell Holmes-dad fetch the lot!" [Laughter.]

You can easily believe I was interested. I supplicated and finally the melancholy miner began. Said he: "They came here just at dark yesterday evening, and I let them in, of course. Said they were going to Yosemite. They were a rough lot-but that's nothing everybody looks rough that travels afoot. Mr. Emerson was a seedy little bit of a chap -red-headed. Mr. Holmes was as fat as a balloonhe weighed as much as three hundred, and had double chins all the way down to his stomach. Mr. Longfellow was built like a prize-fighter. His head was cropped and bristly-like as if he had a wig made of hair brushes. His nose lay straight down his face, like a finger with the end-joint tilted up. They had been drinking-I could see that. And what queer talk they used! Mr. Holmes inspected this cabin, then he took me by the buttonhole, and says he:

"Through the deep caves of thought

I hear a voice that sings:

Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul!' [Laughter.]

Says I, I can't afford it, Mr. Holmes, and, moreover, I don't want to.' Blamed if I liked it pretty well, either, coming from a stranger, that way. However, I started to git out my bacon and beans, when Mr. Emerson came and looked on awhile, and then he takes me aside by the buttonhole and says:

'Give me agates for my meat;
Give me cantharids to eat;

From air and ocean bring me foods,
From all zones and altitudes.'

[Laughter.]

Says I, 'Mr. Emerson, if you'll excuse me, this ain't no hotel.' [Renewed laughter.] You see it sort of riled me, I wasn't used to the ways of littery swells. But I went on a-sweating over my work, and next comes Mr. Longfellow and buttonholes me, and interrupts me. Says he:

'Honor be to Mudjikeewis!

You shall hear how Paw-Puk-Keewis

But I broke in, and says I, 'Begging your pardon, Mr. Longfellow, if you'll be so kind as to hold your yawp for about five minutes and let me get this grub ready, you'll do me proud.' [Continued laughter.] Well, sir, after they'd filled up I set out the jug. Mr. Holmes looks at it, and then fires up all of a sudden, and yells:

'Flash out a stream of blood-red wine!
For I would drink to other days.'

[Great merriment.]

I don't

I turns

By George, I was getting kind o' worked up. deny it, I was getting kind o' worked up. to Mr. Holmes, and says I, 'Looky here, my fat friend, I'm a-running this shanty, and if the court knows herself, you'll take this, or you'll go dry?' [Laughter.] Them's the very words I said to him. Now I didn't want to sass such famous littery people, but you see they kind o' forced me. There ain't nothing onreasonable 'bout me; I don't mind a passel of guests a-tread'n on my tail three or four times, but when it comes to standin' on it, it's different, and if the court knows herself, you'll take this, or you'll go dry.' Well, they'd swell arou

the cabin and strike attitudes and spout. [Laughter.] Says Mr. Longfellow:

"This is the forest primeval.

Says Mr. Emerson:

'Here once the embattled farmers stood,
And fired the shot heard round the world.'

Says I: 'Oh, blackguard the premises as much as you want to it don't cost you a cent.' [Laughter.] Well, they went on eating and drinking, and pretty soon I begun to notice some pretty suspicious things. Mr. Emerson shook his head, and says:

'I am the doubter and the doubt,
They reckon ill who leave me out;
They know not well the subtle ways
I keep, I pass, and deal again!'

[Laughter.]

THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS.

Ο

THOMAS HOOD.

NE more unfortunate
Weary of breath,
Rashly importunate,

Gone to her death!
Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashioned so slenderly,
Young, and so fair!

Look at her garments,
Clinging like cerements,
Whilst the wave constantly

Drips from her clothing;

Take her up instantly,
Loving, not loathing!

Touch her not scornfully!
Think of her mournfully,
Gently and humanly-
Not of the stains of her;
All that remains of her
Now is pure womanly.

Make no deep scrutiny,
Into her mutiny,

Rash and undutiful;
Past all dishonor,
Death has left on her

Only the beautiful.

Still, for all slips of hers,-
One of Eve's family,-
Wipe those poor lips of hers,
Oozing so clammily.
Loop up her tresses

Escaped from the comb,Her fair auburn tresses,Whilst wonderment guesses, Where was her home?

Who was her father?

Who was her mother?

Had she a sister?

Had she a brother?

Or was there a dearer one
Still, and a nearer one
Yet, than all other?

Alas! for the rarity
Of Christian charity
Under the sun!
Oh, it was pitiful!
Near a whole city-full,
Home she had none.

Sisterly, brotherly,

Fatherly, motherly,

Feelings had changed,Love, by harsh evidence, Thrown from its eminence; Even God's providence

Seeming estranged.

Where the lamps quiver
So far in the river,

With many a light
From window and casement,
From garret to basement,
She stood, with amazement,
Houseless by night.

The bleak wind of March

Made her tremble and shiver; But not the dark arch,

Or the black, flowing river;
Mad from life's history,
Glad to death's mystery,

Swift to be hurled-
Anywhere, anywhere
Out of the world!

In she plunged boldly,
No matter how coldly
The rough river ran,-
Over the brink of it!
Picture it,think of it,
Dissolute man!

Lave in it, drink of it,
Then, if you can!

Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashioned so slenderly,
Young, and so fair!
Ere her limbs, frigidly,
Stiffen too rigidly,

Decently, kindly,

Smooth and compose them;
And her eyes, close them,
Staring so blindly!-
Dreadfully staring

Through muddy impurity,
As when with the daring
Last look of despairing
Fixed on futurity.

Perishing gloomily,
Spurred by contumely

Cold inhumanity,

Burning insanity,

Into her rest!

Cross her hands humbly,
As if praying dumbly,

Over her breast!
Owning her weakness,

Her evil behavior,

And leaving, with meekness,

Her sins to her Saviour!