Before the Speedwell's anchor swung, THE DEACON'S MASTERPIECE; : "Men, brethren, sisters, children dear! God calls you hence from over sea; Ye may not build by Haerlem Meer, Nor yet along the Zuyder-Zee. "Ye go to bear the saving word "Yet think not unto them was lent "The living fountain overflows For every flock, for every lamb, Nor heeds, though angry creeds oppose, With Luther's dike or Calvin's dam." He spake with lingering, long embrace, With tears of love and partings fond, They floated down the creeping Maas, Along the isle of Ysselmond. They passed the frowning towers of Briel, The "Hook of Holland's" shelf of sand, And grated soon with lifting keel The sullen shores of Fatherland. No home for these!- too well they knew The mitred king behind the throne;The sails were set, the pennons flew, And westward ho! for worlds unknown. - And these were they who gave us birth, The Pilgrims of the sunset wave, Who won for us this virgin earth, And freedom with the soil they gave. The pastor slumbers by the Rhine, — "" ONE-HOSS SHAY. A LOGICAL STORY. HAVE you heard of the wonderful one. hoss shay, That was built in such a logical way Seventeen hundred and fifty-five. Now in building of chaises, I tell you what, There is always somewhere a weakest spot, In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill, still, lurking Find it somewhere you must and will, Above or below, or within or without, And that's the reason, beyond a doubt, A chaise breaks down, but does n't wear out. But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do, With an "I dew vum," or an "I tell yeou") He would build one shay to beat the taown 'n' the keounty 'n' all the kentry raoun'; It should be so built that it could n break daown: -"Fur," said the Deacon, "'t's mighty plain Thut the weakes' place mus' stan the Little of all we value here Do! I tell you, I rather guess She was a wonder, and nothing less! Colts grew horses, beards turned gray, Deacon and deaconess dropped away, Children and grandchildren, -where were they? But there stood the stout old one-hoss shay As fresh as on Lisbon-earthquake-day! EIGHTEEN HUNDRED; - it came and found The Deacon's masterpiece strong and sound. Eighteen hundred increased by ten;- Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year Without both feeling and looking queer. In fact, there's nothing that keeps its youth, So far as I know, but a tree and truth. (This is a moral that runs at large; Take it. You're welcome. No extra charge.) The parson was working his Sunday's text, Had got to fifthly, and stopped perplexed First a shiver, and then a thrill, Just the hour of the Earthquake shock! What do you think the parson found, When he got up and stared around? The poor old chaise in a heap or mound, As if it had been to the mill and ground! You see, of course, if you 're not a dunce, How it went to pieces all at once, - |