feel that I had not budded and bloomed in | curls bound back with a band of blue ribbon, Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of heaven. And He took them up in his arms, put his hands upon them, and blessed them." As I looked at Lillie, who stood near by, it seemed as though the golden glory of that blessing-crowned head shone upon me, and I wondered not that Christ blessed such ones as she. Shut up between the leaves of this book, I was no longer able to see all that took place about me. Frequently, when Mrs. Lee was reading, she would open to the place where I was; and it always seemed as though a tenderer light shone in her eyes when she looked upon me, as if I brought back memories of a loving, trusting child. and a single white rose-bud in her hair. She wore no other ornament save this simple bud, and yet how beautiful she was! I could have gazed upon her forever; but the carriage came, and she quickly closed the book. I had seen her, however, and was satisfied. Not long after this, I learned from a conversation which I overheard between Lillie and her mother, that preparations were being made for her to attend a young ladies' seminary. And soon I missed her merry, laughterloving voice, and knew that she had gone. Three years passed quickly away; but during that time I was often cheered by the sound of Lillie's voice, and once or twice caught a glimpse of her sweet face, still as beautiful, but more womanly. One morning, soon after Lillie's return from the seminary, as she and Mrs. Lee sat sewing, conversing together in low tones, I heard Lillie telling her mother of "Walter," in tones so gentle, so tremulous, so loving, I felt he must be very dear to her. And from what I heard, I knew Lillie was confiding in her mother, opening to her, in loving trust, the inner sanctuaries of her young heart. Ah, if all daughters would do this, there would be far less misery in the world! And now, with Lillie at home once more, the house was gay enough. She had many friends, and there was scarcely a day that I did not hear the sound of gayety and merriment; and for hours would I listen to the sweet strains of music that would steal up to me from the drawing-room below. There were many fine performers; but I knew Lillie's Years passed on, and only now and then did I catch a glimpse of Lillie. She was rap-touch and bird-like voice, and always listened idly growing from childhood into girlhoodmore beautiful, if possible, than when I first saw her on that bright April morning. One morning, Mrs. Lee having taken her Testament into the sitting-room, I heard Lillie and her mother talking of the school exhibition which was to take place that day, and I soon gleaned that this was Lillie's graduating day, and that they were awaiting the carriage that was to take them to the school. I was just lamenting that I was a poor, pressed flower, shut up between the leaves of a book, and so debarred the pleasure of looking upon Lillie, when she came and lifted up the Testament, and opened the book to where I was. I know she said something about the dear violet she plucked so many years ago, but I did not listen to her, so eagerly was I improving the moment in looking upon her. She was dressed in a simple white muslin, her golden eagerly for her. Sometimes I would hear a rich, clear tenor mingling with hers, and then would know that Walter was by her side. By and by there was less gayety; but all seemed very busy, and I learned that my once little Lillie was soon to become a bride. The marriage ceremony was performed on a sweet June day, when the earth itself seemed clothed in its bridal robes. I hoped to be fortunate enough to see the bride, but this time I was disappointed. Nevertheless, I know how much, in her white dress, her delicate illusion veil, and orange blossoms, and her pearls Walter's gift she must have looked like the pure Lillie that she was. Lillie's home was now in a distant city, and her parents having spent the holidays with her, more than a year passed ere she came to her old home. It was on a golden October morning that Mrs. Lee expected her daughter; and, as she | that God will crown her life with peace and sat by the window awaiting her arrival, she blessing." took up her little Testament, and opened to the tenth chapter of Mark. She had read but a few words, when the rumbling of wheels was heard, and she hastily put her book on the table- —to my joy and delight, neglecting to close it. Just here the door opened, and Mrs. Lee came in, bringing what seemed to me a bundle of flannel, embroidery, and muslin, which Lillie, who followed closely behind, soon began to unroll. I quickly espied two little pink feet, that looked, for all the world, like two beautiful sea shells I had seen in Mr. Lee's cabinet. Then the bundle was set upright, and two fat, chubby, dimpled hands were brought to light; and then such a funny little face as I saw! It seemed to me that it was all cheeks. I had never seen a little baby before, but I do not believe there was ever such a cunning little plump baby as this. I am sure its face was as broad as it was long, and its blue eyes peeped out like two bright stars. The little robin-mouth was all puckered up, and such a cooing I never heard! I didn't wonder that Mrs. Lee and Lillie covered its velvet cheeks and dimpled neck and shoulders with kisses. After a little time, baby, weary, I suppose, from travelling, began to wink her blue eyes; and then stretch them wide open in a funny way, then wink and wink again, until soon she fell fast asleep in Lillie's arms. As Lillie turned back from the bed upon which she had placed her baby, she noticed the open Testament on the table, and looked upon me with a dewy light in her sweet blue eyes. Her face, now stamped with the glorious seal of motherhood, appeared more lovely So they have another Violet now to love, far more precious than I could ever be. Well, I know that often, as they look into her sweet face, as they speak her name in tones of love, they will cherish tender memories of me; and so I am happy and content. A PRISON SKETCH. "and During the past summer a staging was erected around the cupola which surmounts the main building of the Massachusetts State Prison, for the purpose of making some repairs. Passing through the yard one morning, the warden was accosted by one of the convicts as follows: "Mr. Warden, I would like to ask a favor of you, if I thought it would be granted." Mr. Haynes replied, that if it was a proper one, he would be happy to grant it. The convict continued, "I have been confined in this prison almost twentytwo years. During that time I have not been outside, or looked over these walls. I would like, if you would allow me, to go upon that staging" pointing to the cupola look out upon the world once more." tainly," the warden said; "and I will loan you a field-glass to assist your vision." This man was born beneath the shadow of Harvard College, and always lived in Cambridge. He was a wild boy, and gave his family much trouble; he became a great drunkard, and was frequently an inmate of the House of Correction in consequence. On being discharged from that institution, after serving a sentence of six months, on a complaint made by his mother, he went deliberately, in the night time, and set fire to her house, which was entirely consumed, and his own brother perished in the flames. He was tried for the offence, convicted, and sentenced to be hanged "Cer out the world, during the almost twenty-two years of his isolation! New governments have arisen, and old dynasties crumbled into dust. "Thousands have witnessed the wonderful acting if acting it can be called-of Mr. Jefferson in Rip Van Winkle, and have wept and smiled, in turn, at his mystification on awaking from a supposed twenty years' sleep; but here was a living reality- -no fiction, but truth itself, which is so often the stranger of the two. "James K. Polk was then president; the Mexican war had hardly terminated; the population of the country has increased from twentyone millions to nearly forty millions, and the number of states from thirty to thirty-seven. The riches of California had not been discovered. Clay, Webster, Calhoun, and Benton - those intellectual giants — were in the Sen- | ate, and John Quincy Adams was battling for the right of petition in the House of Representatives. Webster had not made his famous Seventh of March speech; Sims and Burns had not been marched down State Street, and returned into slavery through the united pow- | er of the city and state -a most humiliating evidence of the then so-called Union sentiment of Massachusetts, but which was SO much more nobly exemplified during the late rebellion. “The electric telegraph was in its infancy, the Atlantic cable not dreamed of. Since these gates closed upon him, the most gigantic rebellion ever inaugurated by man has been suppressed, the great question of the age solved, the shackles stricken from four million slaves, and the Declaration of Independence has become a living fact. one of the finest views is obtained that ever the eye of man rested upon. On reaching the staging, he instinctively turned the glass towards his old home; before him were spread out the fields in which he played when a boy, the river where he bathed in summer and skated in winter- the scene of his joys, his pleasures, and his sorrows. Silently he directed his gaze to other points, once familiar. but now hardly to be recognized, and less interesting to him; but he very soon came back to the starting-point, and, after taking one long, lingering look, he closed the glass, and, drawing a deep sigh, in a trembling voice exclaimed, All changed, all changed!' and, without uttering another word, descended, and entered upon his usual labor as quietly as though nothing had happened. What his thoughts were none can tell. Whatever they might momentarily have been upon that occasion, they were sure to revert to the great overshadowing one of all in prison for life."" 6 - But there is a sequel to this story that does not appear in Mr. Haynes's interesting book. On Fast Day, April 7, the warden invited a few friends to the prison to attend the regular services, and see the prisoners on one of their few days of recreation. A little time was agreeably passed in the pleasant (if anything connected with prison life can be called so) "octagon room," from which radiate the massive wings of the building, with their long rows of cells, and from which a clear view is always to be had of the different parts of the prison. This room is large and well lighted, and beautiful plants and orange trees give it an air of refinement and taste. A marked feature in the room is a magnificent bronze chandelier of huge proportions, made by convicts in one of the well-furnished shops attached to the prison. As the clock struck ten, Mr. Haynes led the way through grated doors, and up several short flights of solid stone steps, to the chapel, and soon the guests were seated on and around the platform. Presently the heavy clang of "If the changes in the outside world have been great, they have not been less so within these walls. When he entered the prison it contained but three hundred and four cells, occupied by two hundred and eighty-eight inmates; there are now six hundred and sixtysix cells, including the hospital, and the number has reached six hundred. Since he crossed these thresholds, the massive doors have swung open and admitted three thousand four hun-iron bolts was heard, and the convicts began dred and sixty-four convicts; two thousand three hundred and sixty-five have been discharged by expiration of sentence, five hundred and fifteen have been pardoned, and one hundred and twenty-four have died. Of the officers who were here when he came, two only remain. "We left our convict ascending to the cupola of the prison an elevation of about one hundred and fifty feet, and from which to file in and take seats assigned to them. At regular intervals the great bolts and bars moved in their solid sockets; at regular intervals the sharp, iron-tongued echo sounded through the arched rooms; at regular intervals the rows of convicts marched in and took their seats, until the room was full. The scene was deeply impressive. Around the organ, on the side of the room opposite the platform, stood the choir of singers in prison garb. Services began: reading the governor's At last we turned from the scene, passed proclamation, prayer, reading the Scriptures, through the "octagon," with its pleasant light singing and remarks, occupied perhaps an and flowers, its perfect order and neatness, hour. At last the warden rose, and instantly through the office, and into the world of sunevery eye was turned to him in the greatest light and freedom; and never did the pure air earnestness. It was evident that the convicts of heaven seem sweeter, never did liberty would listen to him as to no one else. He seem dearer, never did sin and its penalties talked pleasantly, confidentially, plainly with seem more sorrowful than then. them, and ever and anon they would cheer him loudly. At last he told them that he had something in store for them of unusual character. One of their number was to be pardoned! A thrill passed over the crowd; | the convicts leaned forward and looked with the intensest interest at the warden, and then at their comrades; anxiety, hope, fear seemed striving for the mastery, and their countenances changed as rapidly as the varied emotions rolled over their excited minds. Mr. Haynes waited a moment; the convicts and the spectators seemed equally interested; and as the intensity of feeling seemed culminating, and tears started to eyes long unused to weeping, the words came. "George Hunnewell, stand up." And such a cheer as rose from those six hundred convicts! Mr. Haynes's Pictures of Prison Life has many touching sketches, but none that has a more pleasant ending than this. We give two pictures of the prison, one of the old building, and one of the building as it now stands, and from the cupola of this last, where the flag is flying, George Hunnewell looked out upon the world, and on Fast Day, from beneath that great dome, and from within those bolts and bars he went out a pardoned man, to begin life anew. George Hunnewell stood up, and another cheer THE - rent the air, while the face of the pardoned In a distant state a home has been provided for the pardoned man, and the prayers of the good will follow him, that he may, the few remaining years of his life, be an honest and a useful citizen. After the services were concluded, the convicts were allowed an hour of unrestricted intercourse in the yard. Some played at football, others gathered in little groups and talked; some sang, others danced to the music of the jewsharp; others walked about, lonely and sad, as if life had for them no pleasures, the future no hopes. In the kitchen an extra dinner was being prepared, for which there was an anxious waiting around the door. TIDINGS. FROM THE GERMAN OF COUNT AUERSPERG. BY. MORITZ BRECHER. HE lord returns from knightly feats, And, riding, with his varlet meets. "Hallo, hallo, my man! speak out; From whence, and what art thou about?" "I roam to take the air, and try To find a lodging, by the by." "To find a lodging dost thou roam? What is the matter, then, at home?" "No special news: your grace's dog Lies dead and lifeless as a log!" "My greyhound lifeless as a log! 66 My son! but you have saved his life, And fondly nurses him my wife?" "In heart's despair my lady died When she young master's corpse descried." "And by such dread and cruel fate, Thou, rascal, leav'st the house and gate?" "The house? Which may you mean, O sire? Yours is but ashes, coal, and mire! The litchguard fell asleep by night, Her hood and hair came near the light; One flare and glare were hall and stall, And burnt to death the servants all. DO "COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR N the 23d of May, 1856, the writer sailed ON from New York for Hamburg in the German vessel Nord America. Among the passengers was one named "Bosen," and he lived in the forecastle. He had been to sea a great many years, and had grown old and gray on the ocean. He was looked down to with great respect and veneration by all the sailors on board. This personage was none other than a noble watch-dog, whose history is somewhat remarkable. The first few years of his adventurous life were spent on board a German vessel that traded on the northern coast of Africa. But one day, when the vessel, which had so long been his home, was about to leave her wharf for another voyage, he leaped ashore, and no persuasion could induce him to go back. They sailed without him, and that ship was added to the long list of vessels that "left their ports and were never heard of more." He next took up his abode on board a mail steamer that ran between Hamburg and Liverpool, and for ten years he never missed a trip. At the end of that time he went on shore and secreted himself until she started on what proved to be her last voyage, for she foundered in the midst of the North Sea, and many of her passengers were lost. When the mail steamer was fairly under way, Bosen came out from his hiding-place, and, running up and down the wharf in front of the Nord America, seemed to invite himself on board. At length he was noticed, and called on deck. Then he adopted the cook for his master, and from that time had been his constant companion for eleven successful voyages across the Atlantic. The steward remarked, "When Bosen stays ashore, I shall." It may have been foolish, but, after learning these facts, the writer felt a degree of security on the treacherous deep which added much to the enjoyment of the passage. What became of Bosen is unknown; but it is to be hoped that, his voyage of life having ended, he arrived safe in that canine paradise where "Old Dog Tray," "Rab and his Friends," and all good dogs, at last find rest. ORIGINAL DIALOGUE. SEEING A GHOST. CHARACTERS. BY UNA GREME. MRS. MOONEY, a superstitious Woman in fantastic dress; JIMMY and MOLLY, her Children; MR. GOODENOUGH, the Minister; DOROTHY WILDE, a crazy Woman. SCENE. - MRS. MOONEY sits in her kitchen rocking and knitting. Mrs. Mooney. (Sings.) "Far from mortal cares retreating." (A frightened scream outside.) Jim, Jim Mooney! Come right straight here to me. I'll give you the rapsydardies, you good-for-nothing, quarrelsome fellow! You're fighting with Molly again! Come here, I say! You'll ketch it, if I get my hands holt of ye! (Another frightened scream.) I'm coming with a good stick! I'll see if I can't make you behave! JIMMY and MOLLY rush in and hide their faces in their mother's gown. Fimmy and Molly. (Crying.) O, mother, mother! Mrs. M. Massy sakes alive! what's the matter? Why don't you speak? Fimmy. A ghost! We seen a ghost! O, mother, mother! Mrs. M. O, Jimmy, where? Was it a comin' this way? Molly. Right straight across the pasture. Mrs. M. (In great fear.) Don't be frightened. How did it look? Fimmy. White. O, mother, let's hide in the bedroom and fasten the door. Mrs. M. Ghosts can come right through doors. Molly. It kept a going just so. (Waving her arms.) Mrs. M. "Twas a warnin', children. I'm afraid yer goin' to die! Jimmy. O, mother, mother! Mrs. M. I had a warnin' once before, when the old cow died. The rooster flew up on the window and crowed three times. I said it was a warnin', and, sure enough, it warn't more'n three weeks afore the cow died. (A knock at the door, renewed expressions of fear.) Fimmy. It's a comin', it's a comin'! Mrs. M. (Very sternly.) Go right away. You've come to the wrong house. We don't |