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Anna M. Ford

Mind Your Stops.

HE following specimens of curious punctuation are given by the Printers' Register: "A man was killed by a railroad car running into Boston, supposed to be deaf." A man writes: "We have decided to erect a school-house large enough to accom- He caught the first accents that fell from thy modate 500 scholars five storeys high." An old edition tongue, E kind to thy father, for when thou wast young, Who loved thee as fondly as he?

And joined in thine innocent glee.

Be kind to thy father, for now he is old, His locks intermingled with gray, His footsteps are feeble, once fearless and bold; Thy father is passing away. of a geography has this: "Albany has 400 inhabitants, all standing with their gable-ends to the street." On a certain railway, the following luminous direction was printed: "Hereafter, when trains in an opposite direction are approaching each other on separate lines, conductors and engineers will be requested to bring their respective trains to a dead As a patient mother sat beside the death-bed of her halt before the point of meeting, and be careful not to proceed until each train has passed the other." A A little worn-out creature, his once bright eyes grown steamboat captain, advertising an excursion, says: child : dim: "Tickets, twenty-five cents; children half price to It was a collier's wife and child-they called him little be had at the office." Over a bridge at Athens, Ga., Jim. is the following: "Any person driving over this bridge in a pace faster than a walk shall, if a white And oh! to see the briny tears fast hurrying down her man, be fined five dollars, and if a negro receive twenty-five lashes, half the penalty to be bestowed on the informer." A newspaper contained this: "We cheek, As she offered up the prayer, in thought, she was afraid to speak, have two school-rooms sufficiently large to accommo- Lest she might waken one she loved far better than date 300 pupils one above another." Another newspaper, describing the doings of a convention at Cleveland, said: "The procession was very fine and nearly two miles long, as was also the prayer of Dr. Perry, the chaplain." her life; For she had all a mother's heart-had that poor collier's wife. With hands uplifted, see, she kneels beside the sufferer's bed, And prays that He would spare her boy, and take herself instead.

A Am Great, and You are Small."

SPARROW, swinging on a branch, Once caught a passing fly; "O let me live!" the insect prayed, With trembling, piteous cry. "No," said the sparrow; "you must fall, For I am great, and you are small."

The bird had scarce begun his feast, Before a hawk came by.

The game was caught. "Pray let me live!"

Was now the sparrow's cry. "No," said the captor; "you must fall, For I am great, and you are small."

An eagle saw the rogue, and swooped Upon him from on high. "Pray let me live; why should you kill So small a bird as I ?י "O," said the eagle, "you must fall, For I am great, and you are small."

But while he ate, the hunter came; He let his arrow fly. "Tyrant!" the eagle shrieked, "you have No right to make me die!" "Ah," said the hunter, "you must fall, For I am great, and you are small."

Little Jim.

She gets her answer from the child: soft fall the words from him: "Mother, the angels do so smile, and beckon little Jim, I have no pain, dear mother, now, but O! I am so dry, Just moisten poor Jim's lips again, and, mother, don't you cry."

With gentle, trembling haste she held the liquid to his lip; He smiled to thank her as he took each little, tiny sip. "Tell father, when he comes from work, I said goodnight to him, And, mother, now I'll go to sleep." Alas! poor little Jim!

She knew that he was dying; that the child she loved so dear, Had uttered the last words she might ever hope to hear:

The cottage door is opened, the collier's step is heard, The father and the mother meet, yet neither speak a word.

He felt that all was over, he knew his child was dead, He took the candle in his hand and walked towards the bed; His quivering lips gave token of the grief he'd fain conceal, THE HE cottage was a thatched one, the outside old and mean, And see, his wife has joined him-the stricken couple kneel:

But all within that little cot was wondrous neat and clean; With hearts bowed down by sadness, they humbly ask of Him, The night was dark and stormy, the wind was howl- In heaven, once more, to meet again their own poor ing wild, little Jim.

The Drummer-Boy's Burial.

Midnight came with ebon garments and a diadem of stars, A LL day long the storm of battle through the startled valley swept; While right upward in the zenith hung the fiery planet. Mars.

All night long the stars in heaven o'er the slain sad vigils kept.

Hark! a sound of stealthy footsteps and of voices whispering low, O the ghastly upturned faces gleaming whitely through the night!

Was it nothing but the young leaves, or the brooklet's murmuring flow?

O the heaps of mangled corses in that dim sepulchral light!

Clinging closely to each other, striving never to look round, One by one the pale stars faded, and at length the morning broke, As they passed with silent shudder the pale corses on the ground, awoke.

But not one of all the sleepers on that field of death Came two little maidens-sisters-with a light and hasty tread, Slowly passed the golden hours of that long bright summer day, And upon that field of carnage still the dead unburied lay.

And a look upon their faces, half of sorrow, half of dread. And they did not pause nor falter, till with throbbing hearts, they stood Where the drummer-boy was lying in that partial solitude.

Lay there stark and cold, but pleading with a dumb, unceasing prayer, For a little dust to hide them from the staring sun and air.

They had brought some simple garments from their wardrobe's scanty store, And two heavy iron shovels in their slender hands they bore.

But the foeman held possession of the hard-won battle- Then they quickly knelt beside him, crushing back plain, the pitying tears, In unholy wrath denying even burial to our slain.

For they had no time for weeping, nor for any girlish fears.

Once again the night dropped round them-night so holy and so calm And they robed the icy body, while no glow of maiden That the moonbeams hushed the spirit, like the sound of prayer or psalm. shame Changed the pallor of their foreheads to a flush of lambent flame.

On a couch of trampled grasses, just apart from all the rest, Lay a fair young boy, with small hands meekly folded For their saintly hearts yearned o'er it in that hour of sorest need, on his breast.

And they felt that Death was holy, and it sanctified the deed.

Death had touched him very gently, and he lay as if in sleep; But they smiled and kissed each other when their new strange task was o'er, E'en his mother scarce had shuddered at that slumber calm and deep.

And the form that lay before them its unwonted garments wore. For a smile of wondrous sweetness lent a radiance to Then with slow and weary labor a small grave they the face, hollowed out, And the hand of cunning sculptor could have added nought of grace And they lined it with the withered grass and leaves that lay about.

To the marble limbs so perfect in their passionless repose, was done, Robbed of all save matchless purity by hard, unpitying foes. But the day was slowly breaking ere their holy work And in crimson pomp the morning heralded again the sun.

And the broken drum beside him all his life's short story told :

Gently then those little maidens-they were children of our foes- How he did his duty bravely till the death-tide o'er him rolled.

Laid the body of our drummer-boy to undisturbed repose.