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other's and the Father's love.

IN MEMORIAM.
HENRY LEWIS PROWSE,
Died at Longueuil August 2nd, 1884.
AGED 6 YEARS AND 7 MONTHS.
A fair child of promise, just nipped in the bud,?To plant on heavenly shore,?To bloom and expand in its love-light and peace?Not dead, only gone there before!
Just six years he lived in his loved earthly home,?His fond parents' joy and delight,?Where his bright little spirit shed gladness around,?And filled it with radiant light.
His fond little heart with affection o'erflowed,?To all his beloved ones at home;?Oh, think not these heavenly cords will be riven,?In the spiritual land where he's gone!
Grieve not, then, fond parents, your darling is safe,?In the happier realms of the blest,?There waiting to welcome and join you again,?In the time the Great Father finds best.

THE RINK.
The rink, the rink, th' entrancing rink!?Come there to prove the sweet?Delicious joys of exercise,?In rhythmic glide of feet.
'Tis pleasure pure that all should taste?For it makes the spirit gay,?In graceful sylph-like movements free,?O'er the smooth floor to sway.
It stirs life's pulses to a glad.?Refreshing, genial flow;?It paints the cheeks with roses bright,?And lovely, healthful glow.
Come, then, and in enjoyment pure,?With loved ones at your side,?To sweet melodious music's strain,?Like fairies graceful glide.

A BINGHAMPTON HOME.
A lovely, happy, peaceful home,?Within the fond embrace?Of circling mountains and a stream?Of calm meandering grace.
The Susquehanna's limpid flow,?With the Chunango strove,?And at their mild contention formed?The lovely sylvan grove.
Nature smiled sweetly all around?This homestead glad and bright,?Which seemed peculiarly endowed?With heaven's blent rainbow light.
So danced its colours through that home,?As if they sought to prove?Their harmony with the glad hearts?That formed this shrine of love.
A tender wife refined and pure,?A husband brave and true?Ruled o'er this shrine of happiness,?And darling children two.
Blossy, a dark-eyed, happy girl,?Whom fourteen years have seen,?Blooming in gentle maidenhood,?As fair as e'er was seen.
And then a darling child of four,?Like a fair beam of light,?The household flower, who filled the home?With perfume and delight.
Nice Annie, a fair, dimpled girl,?Who with untiring care?Strove in the home's machinery?To take her loving share.
Mary, the maid, with active zeal?And ever thoughtful heart.?With conscientious care fulfilled?Her well-directed part.
Well skilled in culinary lore,?Her "graham gems" kept time?With all the other household gems?Which in rare grace combine.
Accept these simple words of love,?Dear friends, as we now part,?And guard kind thoughts of me, I pray,?Within the household heart.

MRS. LANGTRY AS MISS HARDCASTLE IN "SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER."
Like a radiant gleam of sunshine?She glanced upon the sight,?A being rare and lovely,?With wit and beauty bright.
Moulded and fashioned finely,?With tall, lithe, rounded form,?And graceful mien and manner,?Her beauty to adorn.
Without one graceless effort,?And perfected by art,?She gave a faithful rendering?Of her adopted part.
Her every turn and movement?Was poetry and grace,?Which lent a sweet enchantment?To her expressive face.
Supported splendidly by all?The other artists there,?Who well deserve with her, their star,?The public praise to share.
Would that we had more artists?As natural as she,?Then might the stage a mirror?Of true life prove to be.

THE SHAKER GIRL
I met a pleasant, thoughtful girl,?Fresh from a homely band?Of Shaker brethren who fare well?In this far Western land.?I talked to her of earthly love,?She answered with a sigh;?I sought to know the hidden truth,?And asked the reason why?She would prefer a Shaker's life,?Pleasant though it might be,?To working in the free, grand world,?Consistently and free,?With household duties wooing her,?And babies on her knee??She blushed a trifle, and looked shy,?Confessed the truth was plain,?That if "some one" should ever come?And seek her love again,?She would, with all her loving heart,?Accept his profferred hand,?And leave her Shaker friends with him,?For any clime or land;?But that she doubted that the love?He once professed was o'er,?And that she feared that it for her?Was quenched for evermore;?And so she guessed she'd best return?To her calm Shaker home,?And curb the feelings of her heart,?And never seek to roam.?O Shaker maiden, pause, I pray,?Take further earnest thought,?Nor stay the longings of your heart,?With heaven-born nature fraught?Duties there are on every side,?Awaiting willing hands,?All unrestricted, unconfined?By any creeds or lands.?Sweet ties of home are holier far,?Spontaneous acts more true,?Than any Shaker work ordained?For man to struggle through.

ICE PALACE.
O palace of marvellous beauty and light,?Like a shrine of enchantment thou art to the sight,?As sparkling with pride 'neath the sun's fond caress,?Thou blushest with love's conscious joyful excess.
Ten thousand bright jewels, from Neptune's realm won,?Compose thy weird structure, where daily the sun?And nightly the Moon in turn sparklingly play?Through each lunar ripple and bright solar ray.
Like some ancient temple upreared to the sun,?As chaste as a bride--and as pure as a nun,?Result of stern winter's imperious commands,?Fitting tribute to it in these northern lands.
Thy empire, O ice king, is stern and severe,?But it has rare pleasures which all hold most dear.?We, our winter pastimes to greet thee convoke,?And the goddess of health with thee daily invoke.
In gleeful assemblage we now celebrate?Thy reign, through