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DEXTER CARLETON WASHBURN.

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CARLETON WASHBURN was born in Rockport, Maine, October 9, 1861. His father, Rev. William Henry Washburn, was the son of Rev. Job Washburn, who was one of the best known Baptist clergymen of his time. In the poet's childhood, his father was a missionary of the Episcopal Church in Northern Maine, but in 1877 the family moved to Lewiston, Maine, where the Rev. Mr. Washburn was for a long time rector of Trinity Episcopal Church. Mr. Washburn was

educated at Nichols' Latin School at Lewiston and graduated from Bates College with high honors in the class of 1885. While in college he was fortunate in having quite a number of his poems published in magazines and papers of high standing. He was one of the editors of the college magazine, The Bates Student, and his verses at this period were worthy of more than passing comment, and were far superior, and merited more from the literary standpoint than the usual sophomoric rhymes. One of his first published poems was one which appeared in the Lewiston Daily Journal, a very dainty little affair entitled, "Pond Lilies."

After leaving college he was for a year connected with the International Art Publishing Co., now the Lakeside Press, at Auburn, Maine. During this time he published his first book, a holiday leaflet, embellished with photogravures, entitled "Songs from the Seasons." Later he went to New York and did reportorial work on the daily Press, World and several other dailies. A second edition of his poems, with revisions and many additions, was issued from the Republican Press, St. Johnsbury, Vt., in 1888, and was put on the market with fair success. The title of the second edition was "Songs from the Seasons, and Other Poems." In 1889 he gave up journalism, and went into business in Boston, where he now resides. C. T. W.

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MY LITTLE SAINT.

HER picture stands here in my study,
On a shelf, by an overgrown book,

Where the curtain, drawn back from the window,
Makes just the right kind of a nook

For a Saint who appears somewhat worldly, With her kids, and her velvet, and furs, And a Gainsborough hat, and whose tresses Are as stylishly “frizzled " as hers.

A CLOUDY MORNING IN THE COUNTRY.

AURORA leaves her early couch

And mounts the sky in haste, to vouch For Sol's returning light.

Her crimson banners herald forth

To denizens of heaven and earth

The banishment of Night.

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CHRISTOPHER P. FLANDERS.

EV. CHRISTOPHER PAGE FLANDERS, A. M., was born in Landoff, Grafton county, New Hampshire, November 25, 1834. Both grandfathers served in the Revolutionary war. One of them fought in the battle of Bunker Hill, the other at Bennington. His father was for some time a soldier. Christopher was the youngest of twelve children. Delicate and frail in his early youth, he had a positive aversion for rough sports. He was fond of reading, Sir Walter Scott and Washington Irving being his special delight. He actually gave the coat from his back in exchange for a copy of Byron's poems! This was regarded by some of his friends as an evidence of impracticability and folly, but he still thinks he made a good bargain, as the book was a much better "fit" than the coat; the book remains on the shelf and in his head, while the coat has long since ceased to be of service.

The first sixteen years of his life were spent in Northern New Hampshire, amid the scenery of the White Mountains. It was not until his twenty-first year that he began to prepare for college. In 1858 he entered the Sophomore Class of the Wesleyan University, at Middletown, Conn., graduating in the class of '61. In college he ranked high as a linguist. He was especially fond of the Greek and Latin poets. After graduating he taught at Springfield and Bellow's Falls, Vt., Passaic, N. J., and in the New Hampshire Conference Seminary at Tilton.

In 1864 Mr. Flanders married Miss Mary Miranda Barrows, LL. L., of Weston, Vt. Miss Barrows was a member of the first class that graduated from the Vermont Female College ('62), then located at Springfield, since removed,-consolidated with the similar school at Newbury,-to Montpelier. They have had two children, a son, Charles Barrows, who died quite young, and May, now budded into womanhood.

His |

In 1867 he joined the Vermont Conference and entered upon the duties of a Methodist minister. In this he has succeeded. An able preacher, a faithful pastor, a sweet-spirited, even-tempered Christian gentleman everywhere. As a sermonizer he is regarded as among the first of his brethren; never preaches a poor sermon; not eloquent in delivery, but finished and elegant in style. sermons could be published, with credit to himself, as first read. He has a happy faculty of harmonizing extremes, uniting and utilizing forces, and so building up a society. This is his life work. To it he gives himself completely and does it faithfully. He is now pastor of the Union Church in North | Truro, Mass. J. S. B.

THE VOYAGERS.

ON the sea of life a sturdy band,

We have launched our boat and put from the shore,
The oars we have grasped with a vigorous hand,
And swiftly we're gliding its waters o'er;
And as we ride on the foaming tide
Our chorus floats o'er the waters wide.
Row, brothers, row, cheerily row,
Waves will beat and winds will blow,
But fearless and trusting, on we'll go."

O, ours is a vessel strong and good,
With a steady course she cleaves the main;
She floats unharmed 'mid tempests rude,
And the wild waves lash her sides in vain.
Then what care we for a raging sea,
In storms we ride in security.
"Row, brothers, row, cheerily row,
Storms will beat and winds will blow,
But fearless and trusting, on we'll go."

If while o'er the foaming sea we ride
A shipwrecked brother we descry,
Hopeless and sinking beneath the tide,
With the speed of thought to his aid we fly.
O, sweet will it be when we've passed o'er the sea,
To hear "ye've well done, ye did it to me."
"Row, brothers, row, cheerily row,
Storms will beat and winds will blow,
But fearless and trusting, on we'll go.'

Onward, still onward our vessel flies,
Nor distant is that radiant shore
Where storms never beat and clouds never rise,
And sorrows and trials are known no more.
There loved ones stand on the shining strand,
To welcome us home to the beautiful land.
"Row, brothers, row, cheerily row,
Storms will beat and winds will blow,
But fearless and trusting, on we'll go."

POETRY.

A SPIRIT, SO old legends say,
Descending from the realms of bliss,
Came to a sleeping child one day,
And on his brow impressed a kiss.

The child grew up reserved and shy,

But gifted with endowments rare; He nature read with searching eye, And gathered knowledge everywhere.

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