a literary family, yet winning her own laurels independent of those already accorded to her brilliant ancestry.

Miss Woolson was born at Claremont, N. H., in 1848, and is a daughter of Charles Jarvis Woolson and Hannah Cooper Pomeroy. Mrs. Woolson, Constance's mother, was a woman of marked literary ability. She was a niece of Fenimore Cooper, after whom Constance was named. The Woolsons moved to Cleveland, O., when Constance was quite young. Her education, with the exception of a time passed at Madame Chegary's French school in New York City, was obtained at a young ladies' seminary in Cleveland. In 1869 Miss Woolson's father died, and shortly thereafter she began writing. In 1873 she moved with her mother to the Southern States, residing principally in Florida until 1879. In that year her mother died, and Miss Woolson went to England where she has since resided. Besides contributing to different periodicals, Miss Woolson has published several novels, the first, "Anne" (1882), being an instant success. N. L. M.

"I TOO!"

"LET us spread the sail for purple islands,
Far in undiscovered tropic seas;
Let us track the glimmering arctic highlands
Where no breath of men, no leaf of trees
E'er has lived." So speak the elders, telling
By the hearth their list of fancies through,
Heedless of the child whose heart is swelling,
Till he cries at last, "I too! I too!”

And I, too, O my Father! Thou hast made me —
I have life, and life must have its way;
Why should love and gladness be gainsaid me?
Why should shadows cloud my little day?
Naked souls weigh in thy balance even —
Souls of kings are worth no more than mine;
Why are gifts e'er to my brother given,

While my heart and I together pine?

Meanest things that breath have, with no asking,
Fullest joys: the one-day's butterfly
Finds its rose, and, in the sunshine basking,
Has the whole of life ere it doth die,
Dove, no sorrow on thy heart is preying;
With thy full contentment thou dost coo;

Yet, must man cry for a dove's life, saying, "Make me as a dove-I too! I too!"

Nay, for something moves within - a spirit
Rises in his breast, he feels it stir;
Soul-joys greater than the doves inherit
Should be his to feel; yet, why defer
To a next world's veiled and far to-morrow
All his longings for a present bliss?
Stones of faith are hard; oh, could he borrow,
From that world's great stores one taste for this!

Hungry stands he by his empty table,

Thirsty waits beside his empty wellNor with all his striving, is he able

One full joy to catch where hundreds swell In his neighbor's bosom; see, he sifteth Once again his poor life through and through — Finds but ashes: is it strange he lifteth Up his cry, "O Lord! I too! I too!"

TOM.

YES, Tom's the best fellow that ever you knew.
Just listen to this:
When the old mill took fire, and the flooring fell
through,

And I with it, helpless there, full in my view,
What do you think my eyes saw through the fire
That crept along, crept along, nigher and nigher,
But Robin, my baby-boy, laughing to see
The shining? He must have come there after me,
Toddled alone from the cottage without
Anyone's missing him.

Then, what a shout-
Oh, how I shouted, "For Heaven's sake, men,
Save little Robin!" Again and again

They tried, but the fire held them back like a wall.
I could hear them go at it, and at it, and call,
"Never mind, baby, sit still like a man,
We're coming to get you as fast as we can.'
They could not see him, but I could. He sat
Still on a beam, his little straw hat
Carefully placed by his side; and his eyes
Stared at the flame with a baby's surprise,
Calm and unconscious, as nearer it crept.

The roar of the fire up above must have kept
The sound of his mother's voice, shrieking his

name,

From reaching the child. But I heard it. It came Again and again. Oh, God, what a cry!

The axes went faster; I saw the sparks fly

Where the men worked like tigers, nor minded the heat

That scorched them-when, suddenly, there at their feet

The great beams leaned in—they saw him— then, crash,

Down came the wall! The men made a dash,—
Jumped to get out of the way,— and I thought,
"All's up with poor little Robin!" and brought
Slowly the arm that was least hurt to hide

The sight of the child there,— when swift, at my side,

Some one rushed by, and went right through the flame,

Straight as a dart-caught the child-then came Back with him, choking and crying, but—saved! Saved safe and sound!

Oh, how the men raved, Shouted, and cried, and hurrahed! Then they all Rushed at the work again, lest the back wall Where I was lying, away from the fire,

Should fall in and bury me.

The old folks made me welcome; they were kind as kind could be;

But I kept longing, longing, for the hills of the Tennessee.

O, for a sight of water, the shadowed slope of a hill!

Clouds that hang on the summit, a wind that never is still!

But the level land went stretching away to meet the sky

Never a rise, from north to south, to rest the weary eye!

From east to west, no river to shine out under the moon,

Nothing to make a shadow in the yellow afternoon: Only the breathless sunshine, as I looked out, all forlorn;

Only the "rustle, rustle," as I walked among the

corn.

When I fell sick with pining, we didn't wait any

more,

But moved away from the corn-lands out to this river shore

The Tuscarawas it's called, sir-off there's a hill, you see

And now I've grown to like it next best to the Tennessee.

I was at work that morning. Some one came riding like mad

Over the bridge and up the road-Farmer Rouf's little lad:

Bareback he rode; he had no hat; he hardly stopped

to say,

“Morgan's men are coming, Frau; they're galloping on this way.

"I'm sent to warn the neighbors. He is n't a mile behind;

He sweeps up all the horses—every horse that he can find:

Morgan, Morgan the raider, and Morgan's terrible

men,

With bowie-knives and pistols, are galloping up the glen."

The lad rode down the valley, and I stood still at the door;

The baby laughed and prattled, playing with spools on the floor;

Kentuck was out in the pasture; Conrad, my man,

was gone:

Near, nearer Morgan's men were galloping, galloping on!