September 29th.

WHEN lords and ladies went to hunt together,
The milkmaid, as he passed, kicked down her pail ;
When witty courtier criticised the weather,

The Countess swore he was a learned man;
For him the proudest bowed beneath a feather,
For him the coldest blushed behind a fan;
And titled dames gave fêtes upon the water,
To introduce him to their angel daughter.

DEAR Maiden of the shy and eager face
In drooping darkness framed, or ripply gold,
And spirit like the fresh bud half unroll'd
In morning's light!—

September 30th.

THE worst of miseries

Is when a nature framed for noblest things
Condemns itself in youth to petty joys,
And sore athirst for air, breathes scanty life
Gasping from out the shallows.

FLUSHED with youth her looks impart

Each fine feeling as it flows,

Her voice the echo of her heart

Pure as the mountain snows.

Praed.

William Allingham.

George Eliot.

Rogers.

October 1st.

VIL comes and evil goes,

But it moves me never;

For the Good, the Good, it grows,
Buds and blossoms ever.

Winter still succeeds to Spring,

But fresh Springs are coming.
Blither birds are on the wing,

Brighter bees are humming.

FAIR to the eye, as in her grace most rare,
And loved, desired, adored as she is fair!

W. M. W. Call

Theodore Martin, from Goethe.

September 30th.

October 1st.

October 3rd.