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keep,
Obedient to the heavenly law sublime,
Each
circle forming others through all time.
So our beloved one leaves his track behind,
Of multiplying circles to

his kind,
In the rich lessons of his well-spent life,
With holy
God-like teachings ever rife.
No storied marble setting forth his praise,
A more enduring
monument could raise,
Than the productive seed which he has sown,

Which chants his requiem in undying tone.
A priceless heritage he leaves behind,
In the example of his
well-trained mind,
A blessed Aftermath! God grant that we
May
tune our hearts to its sweet melody.
For though the jewel casket be no more
Amongst us, as in happier
days of yore,
The radiance of the gem it held will still
Remain our
lonely home and hearts to fill.
Let us then try courageously to tread,
The footprints where his noble
teachings led,
With self-denying zeal right onward go,
Striving to
vanquish every inward foe.
And thus we'll hope to meet again once more
Unitedly with loved
ones gone before,
In the divine hereafter-home above,
Safe in each
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