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I'm sick of all the double knocks that come to Number Four!
That Number Three, I often see a lover at the door ;-
And one in blue, at Number Two, calls daily like a dun,—
It's very hard they come so near, and not to Number One!

Miss Bell I hear has got a dear exactly to her mind,—
By sitting at the window-pane without a bit of blind;
But I go in the balcony, which she has never done,

Yet arts that thrive at Number Five do n't take at Number
One!

"Tis hard, with plenty in the street, and plenty passing by,There's nice young men at Number Ten, but only rather

shy;

And Mrs. Smith across the way has got a grown-up son, But, la! he hardly seems to know there is a Number One!

There's Mr. Nick at Number Nine, but he 's intent on pelf, And though he's pious will not love his neighbor as himself.At Number Seven there was a sale-the goods had quite a run!

And here I've got my single lot on hand at Number One!

My mother often sits at work, and talks of props and stays,
And what a comfort I shall be in her declining days:-
The very maids about the house have set me down a nun,
The sweethearts all belong to them, that call at Number One!

Once only, when the flue took fire, one Friday afternoon, Young Mr. Long came kindly in and told me not to swoon: Why can't he come again without the Phoenix and the sun ? We can not always have a flue on fire at Number One!

I am not old, I am not plain, nor awkward in my gait―
I am not crooked like the bride that went from Number
Eight:

I'm sure white satin made her look as brown as any bun-
But even beauty has no chance, I think, at Number One!

At Number Six they say Miss Rose has slain a score of hearts,

And Cupid, for her sake, has been quite prodigal of darts, The imp they show with bended bow, I wish he had a gun! But if he had, he'd never deign to shoot with Number One!

It's very hard, and so it is, to live in such a row!

And here's a ballad-singer come to aggravate my woe;

O, take away your foolish song, and tones enough to stun― There is "Nae luck about the house," I know, at Number One!

Ex. LVI-A PEAN FOR INDEPENDENCE.

PARK BENJAMIN.

FROM West to East, a sudden splendor breaking,
Proclaims the advent of another day
Sacred to Freedom! newer hopes awaking
In distant nations, who behold her ray.

Lighting our shores with undiminished glory,
Still undiminished in the lapse of years,
And making grander yet the oft-told story

Of all our fathers won through blood and tears.

Our brave forefathers! few of their bright number
Remain to claim our reverence and our love,
In honored graves their war-worn bodies slumber,
In blessed mansions rest their souls above.

To keep their memories is our holy duty-
To them we owe this heritage of peace,
These fair possessions, these broad realms of beauty,
To which Time lends a bounteous increase.

;

No tyrant's hand can rob us of dominion;
No conqueror desolate our fruitful vales
High soars our eagle with unruffled pinion;
Bravely our banner meets opposing gales.

Here are no slaves of old-world, dead convention,
Our motto, "Freedom come to all mankind!"
No interference, but firm intervention,

When men their fellows would in fetters bind.

When kings to Freedom's spirit bid defiance,
And trample down the people like base weeds,
And join their forces in unblessed alliance,
To wage a warfare of unrighteous deeds,-

Then to the nations cry we--Be strong-hearted;
Be bold and resolute, and full of trust;
The might of Freedom has not yet departed,
Nor her high altars level with the dust.

Her starry flag shall float above your legions-
Beneath its folds the doves of Peace repose;
IIer power and glory shall pervade your regions,
And make your deserts blossom like the rose.
What though for long, long years of toil and strife,
Subjects and serfs your generations be,
Hope on, and struggle while there yet is life-
If not yourselves-your children shall be free.
Auspicious hour! all noble thoughts inspiring,
Well may we triumph at thy glad return-
Each mind and heart with loftier impulse firing,
Causing each breast with warmer love to burn,---
The love of country! Time cannot efface it,
Nor distance dim its Heaven-descended light-
Nor adverse fame, nor fortune e'er deface it—
It dreads no tempest, and it knows no night.

Ex. LVII.-NATIONAL ANNIVERSARY.

A. H. RICE.

THE return of this joyous day has refreshed our recollections of the greatest event in American history. Impressed with grateful memories, we hailed its dawning light with emotions of irrepressible joy. Here, in the old pilgrim city, always faithful to the commemoration of patriotic events, we have sought again to penetrate the vail of the past, and gaze in fancy once more upon the patriotic fathers, arrayed in all the glowing imagery of the heroic days.

The warm blood quickened in our veins as we listened again to the untiring story of their deeds and valor, and under this last recital we have owned still a new devotion to the land of our heritage and birth. And we linger still for a few moments in this sacred temple of freedom-a temple where associations are bounded by no territorial limits, and which fade not under any lapse of years, we still linger here

to commune with the spirits of departed days, and to catch a fresh enthusiasm from their deathless shades.

We celebrate to-day no idle tradition-the deeds of no fabulous race; for we tread in the scarcely obliterated footsteps of an earnest and valiant generation of men, who dared to stake life, and fortune, and sacred honor, upon a declaration of rights, whose promulgation shook tyrants on their thrones, gave hope to fainting freedom, and reformed the political ethics of the world.

The greatest heroes of former days had sought renown in schemes of conquest, based on the love of dominion or the thirst for war; and such had been the worship of power in the minds of men, that adulation had ever followed in the wake of victory. How daring then the trial of an issue between a handful of oppressed and outlawed colonists, basing their cause, under God, upon an appeal to the justice of mankind and their own few but valiant arms. And how unmeazurably great was he, the fearless commander, who, after the fortunes and triumphs of battle were over, scorned the thought of a regal throne for a home in the hearts of his countrymen. Amidst the rejoicings of this day, let us mingle something of gratitude with our joy-something of reverence with our gratitude-and something of duty with

reverence.

Let us cultivate personal independence in the spirit of loyalty to the state, and may God grant that we may always be able to maintain the sovereignty of the state, in the spirit of integrity to the union. Thus shall still be shed imperishable honors upon the American name-thus perpetuated, through all coming time, the heritage which has been bequeathed to us by our fathers. Whatever shall be the fate of other governments, ours, thus sustained, shall stand for ever. As has been elsewhere said, nation after nation may rise and fall, kingdoms and empires crumble into ruin, but our own native land, gathering energy and strength from the lapse of time, shall go on and still go on its destined way to greatness and renown. And when thrones shall have crumbled into dust, when scepters and diadems shall have been long forgotten, till Heaven's last thunder shall shake the world below, the flag of the republic shall still wave on, and its stars, its stripes, and its eagle, shall still float in pride, and strength, and glory,

"Whilst the earth bears a plant,

Or the sea rolls a wave"

Ex. LVIII.-THE THREE BEATS.

G. W. PATTEN

ROLL-roll!-How gladly swell the distant notes,
From where, on high, yon starry pennon floats!
Roll-roll!-On, gorgeously they come,

With plumes low-stooping, on their winding way,
With lances gleaming in the sun's bright ray:—
"What do ye here, my merry comrades,—say ?”—
"We beat the gathering drum;

"Tis this which gives to mirth a lighter tone,
To the young soldier's cheek a deeper glow,
When stretched upon his grassy couch, alone,
It steals upon his ear,-this martial call
Prompts him to dreams of gorgeous war, with all
Its pageantry and show!"

Roll-roll!" What is it that ye beat ?"

"We sound the charge!-On with the courser fleet !— Where, 'mid the columns, red war's eagles fly, We swear to do or die!—

'Tis this which feeds the fires of fame with breath, Which steels the soldier's heart to deeds of death; And when his hand,

Fatigued with slaughter, pauses o'er the slain,
'Tis this which prompts him madly once again
To seize the bloody brand!"

Roll-roll!" Brothers, what do ye here,
Slowly and sadly as ye pass along,

With your dull march and low funereal song ?"
"Comrade! we bear a bier!

I saw him fall!

And, as he lay beneath his steed, one thought,
(Strange how the mind such fancy should have wrought!)
That had he died beneath his native skies,
Perchance some gentle bride had closed his eyes,
And wept beside his pall!"

O. W. HOLMES,

Ex. LIX.-OLD IRON SIDES.

AYE, tear her tattered ensign down!
Long has it waved on high;

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